#I think I pretty much gave up when I was fourteen and now I’m not fourteen and it’s like Well shit

[heteromenckenist]

where do people get their serious wants lmao. my wants possible or otherwise will not happen so i just stopped thinking about them, how do you want actual stuff and why.

[cxlamarisalxmi]

Being a variant and being on Miles’ side [GN]

[Platonic Headcanons]

c/w: major spoilers, gender neutral terms and pronouns (they/them), no gendered terms used to describe reader, canon inaccuracies? I’m not really sure I’d just gone off what I had perceived from the movie

—

[Unedited]

• Miguel and Jessica had been keeping a keen eye on the teenager spider variant (you) from Earth-2315126 since you’d been bitten at five years old

• Strange thing was your father; Peter Parker was also bit, which meant your dimension had two spider variants as opposed to one— not unheard of but not common either

• It was fortunate for you however because you had someone to teach you, show you the ropes, the fact that it was your father who had become your mentor was only the icing on the cake

• And you were brought up into a spectacular spider variant in his care; strong, compassionate, kind

• Though despite having a father the pair kept a watchful eye on you regardless, seeing promise in your future and believing in your potential

• When you were fourteen your father was killed by Lizard, and for an entire year following you gave up on your heroic persona— hanging up your suit in the wake of your father’s death that rocked your entire world

• Being Spider-Man/Woman is about sacrifice, your father taught that to you when you began and you should’ve expected that you could not have it all

• A loving and doting father and the most badass secondary identity ever, it was always bound to happen and you should’ve prepared yourself for it

• But nobody could prepare themself for the loss of a loved one, and the ache in your chest and the burn in your stomach was something you’d never felt before— nor do you ever wish to feel it again

• So you gave up on the suit and you gave up on being the hero, eventually your Aunt May had stepped in and she scolded you pretty heavily about your state

• You didn’t think she had room to talk and she laid into you pretty hard for that comment because she most certainly did, Peter was her brother after all

• After you got it pretty good you decided that she was right, sulking about and ruining yourself wouldn’t change a damn thing, not only that but you knew your father would hate to see you like that

• You knew he wouldn’t ever force the suit upon you and you accepted that you had the choice to avoid dawning it ever again, but you also knew what he would do in your position

• He would bear the responsibility of his beloved city no matter the circumstances and no matter the heartache, because Spider-Man always gets back up

• So you stood firm upon all the valiant determination you could muster and picked your life back up again

• You got better emotionally and grew stable once more, and in the acceptance of your father’s death you had grown stronger, confident, courageous

• With you back on the streets of NYC the people of Brooklyn often voiced just how much they had missed and needed you

• And you didn’t plan on letting them down again, so despite the lack of a piece of your heart you always showed up when people needed you and you’ve not yet let them down

• Now, back to Jess and Miguel— they had known Peter would die and they had known they could not interfere as this was your canon event, the moment that would make or break you.. turns out it did both

• And they watched as you suffered through the loss, gave up on everything and everyone (including yourself) for a little over a year, worked through your pain and powered forward to overcome your grief, then became one of the strongest variants they had ever seen just before your seventeenth birthday

• Yes, they’ve been watching you for twelve years and yes, you have no idea

• It was on your seventeenth birthday that you had encountered Lizard once again, and this time he had taken enhancement drugs to increase his growth rate to tremendously rapid levels

• To say you were a bit stunned to see Lizard the size of a fucking dinosaur would be the understatement of the entire damn year

• Now, you held malicious and vengeful feelings towards Lizard for a long time in the wake of your father’s murder but it was feelings you had never ever acted upon, not even after you decided to pick up the suit once more

• As mentioned before you knew very well that the angry and hateful feeling brewing inside you at the expense of Lizard killing him could ruin you if you let it

• And that’s not where your morals lie, your beliefs and virtues are straight from those of your fathers— to be strong and courageous, righteous and pure for being Spider-Man/Woman is about hope

• So you did intend to take him down but you’d never do it with sinister intent or threatening tactics— just bring him down is all you wanted to do

• And if you were to speak honestly, it wasn’t as hard as you thought it was gonna be, obviously it was still pretty tough because hello? He’s the size of a fucking house, might as well be fighting a damn dragon

• It was easier because you’d felt at peace with yourself, and when at peace with yourself you worked harder and cleaner, jobs and protecting the city was just.. easier

• The fact the fight was easier than you expected could’ve also been because of your bite, the abilities you had gotten from it were a bit different than your father’s

• See, you’d been bit by a radioactive spider yes but it was a specific species and in accordance with that species you’d gained significantly different skills and traits

• The spider that had bit you was a Northern Wolf Spider, the arachnid gaining that name from it’s behavior of chasing, hunting and stalking prey, and in an odd turn of events you’d gained qualities that were more akin to that of a North American Timber Wolf

• Heightened senses came with the bite for every variant, and your specific qualities included; advanced stamina and strength, increased sense of sight, tremendously keen sense of smell and auditory processing, you had thick and durable fangs meant for tearing and searing

• You also bulked up a whole more more since your father passed, and in gaining more weight in pure muscle you’ve had to make your webs more durable, which helped out a lot with your fight against Lizard

• Speaking of—

“They’ve probably got it handled Miguel, is there any reason to actually go to their dimension?”

“I protect the multiverse which makes anomalies my responsibility, regardless of if that variant can handle them or not. And I’m going to have them join us.”

Jessica didn’t say much after, and she followed Miguel dutifully as he walked into the glowing orange portal. The pair flew through the multiverse for all of two seconds before a portal opened ahead of them and they were dropped onto a roof in your dimension.

“Went a bit too heavy on the ‘roids didn’t ya Doc?” The voice of a young teenager caught their ears. Just off to the side and a couple blocks away. Now facing that way they could see the large head of Lizard standing tall over the lip of the building on the distance.

“Is.. is that?—”

“Dr. Curt Connors.”

You leapt off the metal grail of the fire escape just as Lizard destroyed it with a whip of his massive tail. Using the momentum from your jump you swung a reverse axe kick to Lizard’s chin— putting enough force into it to throw his head back as you flip-jumped from him and landed on the road down below.

“I’m going to rip you apart and feast on your innards!” Lizard snarled as he recovered and glowered down at you with a sinister bear of his teeth.

“Season them well first at least, I’d suggest a nice barbecue rub!” You responded before shooting a web to the corner of the building on your left and swinging yourself into the air. Lizard roared angrily before lunging forward and attempting to catch you between his teeth. They snapped close with a chilling clamp and throaty growl from the beast.

Reaching the corner of the building you had shot your web at you leapt up and backwards flying over Lizard’s head and connecting a web to the side of his muzzle.

“Almost got me there!” You yelled as you swung around and around Lizard’s large scaled snout. “Don’t you know that animals that bite are often fitted with muzzles!” You quipped, enunciating the last word with a firm tug thus tightening the webs you’d been wrapping around his jaws and effectively sealing his mouth shut.

You kept the momentum and attached another web to the end of the one you’d been swinging around his muzzle. Then, you angled your hip to swing towards Lizard’s legs and using the same tactic looped around them several times before you were doing the same thing for his arms. When you deemed him wrapped up enough you landed behind him then tugged hard on the web end in your hand and forced Lizard to the ground by pulling his feet out from underneath him.

Once you were sure he was on the asphalt you were swift to web him up tightly and bind him to the ground. Hopefully, Captain Stacey got your message about the antidote and would arrive soon with it.

Meanwhile, as you waited you playfully walked along the edge of the building. The lip acting as your balance beam as you walked on your toes along it, doing a flip every so often just cause. You’d long since forgone your mask in favor of eating the sandwich gifted to you by the bodega owner on the corner.

Your spider senses tingled before—

“That was pretty impressive.”

You only flinched slightly at the abrupt interruption of your own little world, and turned to see two people. One, a very tall and broad man with wide shoulders and a muscular physique. The other, a woman with dark skin and a styled afro.. and she was pregnant.

“Uhm… thanks?”

“Was that a question?”

“Sorry it’s just—” you shook your head before jumping down and only now standing on the same level as him did you realize how tall the man actually was. “Who exactly are you two?”

“I’d think the suits gave you plenty context.” The woman replied, a smirk tugging up one end of her lips.

“Okay.. and why are you here?” You answered, still on edge about the two variants standing in front of you.

“My name is Miguel O’hara, and I lead an elite strike force dedicated to helping maintain the multiverse.” The man responded and you quirked an eyebrow at him.

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here?”

“There was an anomaly reading in your dimension and we’re here to retrieve whatever villain has jumped into your universe.” The woman explained, jumping in to answer before Miguel could.

“You mean Kingpin?” You replied pointing to the billboard behind them and they both spun around to find the suit wearing antagonist webbed to it. Thick, white webs covering his entire body save for his neck and head, finally a web over his mouth. And they all watched as he glitched and morphed in colorful and mixed patterns, the board he was attached to glitching out too before changing entirely.

“How did you?—”

“My AP Physics teacher won’t shut up about the multiverse and also he doesn’t look my Kingpin at all so.. I mean you know,” they shrugged.

Miguel turned his head slightly to look at the woman beside him before he jerked his head minutely then he was facing the teenager in front of him once more. You met his masked stare head on (something he was impressed by, not many people can meet his intimidating glare straight on) as the woman walked away from you two before slinging a web up to the billboard and pulling herself up to it.

“You know the whole sinister and dark ‘nobody touch me I’m emo’ vibe you got going on isn’t very heroic.”

Miguel didn’t say anything, didn’t move an inch as he just stared at you. “See that right there isn’t becoming of someone who’s supposed to make people feel safe.”

“I protect the multiverse.”

“Right. But there are ordinary people in the multiverse, in every dimension you’ll find people.”

“The multiverse is my priority.”

“Yikes, saying things like that are not very becoming of a Spider-Man either.”

Miguel turned his observant stare cold as he chose to glare at you instead for the disrespectful responses and jokes. And he figured you must’ve felt he’d changed to glaring heatedly because you awkwardly looked away with a hand rubbing the back of your neck.

Finally, the woman returned with the Kingpin variant at her feet. This one significantly smaller than yours and lankier too, he must rely heavily on his Tombstone and Prowler. You’d rather have this Kingpin as opposed to your Kingpin— who for some reason is built like a fucking overgrown Silverback Gorilla.

She fiddled with the watch on her wrist before a golden portal erupted into life beside her, and you watched as she threw the Kingpin variant in before stepping in herself. But not before saluting you a goodbye with a playful glint in her eye and cheeky smirk on her face.

The portal closed and then your attention was back on Miguel, and your spider senses tingling brought a hand up to catch the watch he threw at you.

“Join us?”

You looked from him to the device in your hand, then you looked behind you at the Lizard on the ground down below. Captain Stacey at his neck and injecting him with a vial of clear liquid. You turned back to Miguel with a smirk and eager look as you slid the watch onto your wrist. “Sounds like a damn good time.”

• You didn’t know if you actually wanted to be there at Miguel’s Spider Society or whatever he’s calling it but you were also a bit intrigued by it

• So you followed them when he offered you that watch, and you grinned as he gave walked you around the building, giving you a small tour of his headquarters

• When you met Peter B. Parker you had an emotional breakdown and refused to return to the society for days following your first interaction with the man

• When you finally went back he was concerned that he’d done something wrong to garner such a reaction but you were quick to jump in and let him know it was in no way his fault before you explained why you had reacted as you did

• He was more than understanding, offering to keep his distance if that was what you wanted and whilst you appreciated the gesture you told him you would be fine

• And spending time in his company had begun to fill that gaping hole in your heart, obviously he’d never replace your father and you didn’t expect that of him either but his fatherly presence made you feel better than you had in years since your father’s passing

• Mayday was just an added bonus to his presence

• Time passed and you were there for a couple months before you met Gwen Stacey, and the two of you clicked almost instantly, it was a bit odd for you since the Gwen from your universe was about three years old and hadn’t been bitten but you got used to it

• And in that time you’d also learned the pregnant woman’s name was Jessica and that she was Miguel’s right hand in his society that he created

• You’d also met Hobie Brown and Pavitr Prabhakar whom you’d come to adore more than you’d ever outwardly admit lest you wish to give them egos the size of fucking Mars (but those two alongside Gwen were definitely your favorites) (behind Miguel ofc)

• Speaking of, you’d also grown quite close to Miguel in your time as part of his society of spider people, which was a huge surprise to yourself, him, Jessica and pretty much everyone involved

• He couldn’t really explain what it was, just something about your energy and the way you carried yourself that had him intrigued and impressed

• Your attitude that alluded to you never giving up was something he admired about you too, and it was those qualities that drew him in, made him want to protect you

• The bonding with you was something he didn’t expect to happen but was shocked when he wasn’t against it, and he ignored the initial reluctance and fear that he felt when you two began to get closer and closer

• Maybe it was the little things, the way you’d check up on him after a particularly harrowing or difficult mission, or the way you’d do anything to see if you could get him to crack a smile, there was something about your mere presence too, something warm and comforting

• Something he hadn’t felt since his young daughter was still a part of his life, and he was afraid of the consequences that would follow if he ever got close to you and lost you

• The same heartache he felt for his daughter would return, and it was pain that he didn’t want to feel ever again, that’s why he kept himself so guarded, those broken and vulnerable pieces protected behind vaulted steel doors

• But you had somehow managed to slip through his barbed defenses and made yourself right at home in his heart, and again he was initially afraid of the possibility that he’d lose you too and he’d face that pain all over again

• He doesn’t remember when or how he got over it, but he does remember the feeling that washed over him when he finally accepted your friendship

• It felt akin to a bucket of cold water being dumped over that fiery and searing ache in his chest, relief and comfort that he felt weigh so heavily on his chest he almost cried

• After that your guys’ relationship developed to much deepen levels, and he’d never admit to your face but you had quickly become his favorite and he would do anything to protect you, protect your bond like his life depended on it

• And just like Peter, his mere presence seemed to make you finally feel whole again… complete

• And as time continued to pass you’d only grow closer with the two men, finding safety and comfort in their arms, safety and comfort you’d been craving since you were fourteen years old

• Then, Miles Morales came along and everything went to shit

• Despite being on his team for months Miguel failed to mention that there was a spider variant that was an anomaly

• And in failing to mention that you had to figure it out on your own when Miles’ scent hit your nose and he smelled drastically different from the other spider people

• He smelt odd, unnatural and unusual… strange

• It didn’t take you long to figure out that he was an anomaly but you still figured it out by the way his scent, and you thanked the stars for that particular gift you got from the species of spider that had bitten you

• After Miles, Hobie and Gwen returned from the rescue they accomplished in Pavitr’s dimension at the expense of Spot is when things went from bad to ultimately worse

• Miguel had hoped somewhere small in his chest that you would side with him but he knew in a significantly larger part of him that your morals would not allow you to stand for him preventing Miles from saving his father

• Miguel knew that if you had known your father would’ve been killed that horrible night those years ago that you would’ve interfered without hesitation

• So he was not confident that you’d agree with him and well over half of the rest of the spider variants that this is something that must occur

• And he feared the confrontation with you, he feared the hate he’d no doubt see in your eyes when you find out this is where he stood on his opinion about the situation

• He wasn’t wrong either, because when Miles had returned and they all had cornered him after Miles discovered that Spot would be the cause, you didn’t take it all that well—

You were conflicted, you cared about Miguel but you’re morals and beliefs were very important to you— defined who you were. They were instilled into you by your father and you truly believed that by following through with them to the end you were keeping his legacy alive.

And they were loud in your ears right now, deafening in their prominent voice as you watched Miles get more and more tightly wound.

The thing was.. you agreed with him. And your father would’ve agreed with him too. There is no way Miguel knows for absolute certainty that Miles’ universe would collapse if he saved his father. And there’s no way any of the other spider variants could possibly know either.

There were facts and evidence on Miguel’s side but again— your values were speaking much louder than him. Because your father would’ve been disgusted by the behavior these spider variants were displaying, and he would’ve straight up hated Miguel. That you were absolutely sure of.

“This is wrong Miguel,” you spoke up and the spider variant you were speaking of turned to look at you. “You’re just going to let someone die when you know you could change the outcome? How could you possibly think that’s okay?”

“[Y/Name]—”

“Spider-Man isn’t about the acceptance of loss and grief yet to come, Spider-Man is about hope, hope and promise of a greater tomorrow. Hope that there will always be someone there to help… someone there to protect those who can’t do so themselves.”

“The security of the multiverse is important!” Miguel argued, his tone aggressive and his expression frustrated as he ignored the ache on his chest. The ache that had erupted into existence at the expense of his theory proving correct— you would be against him.

“No! What’s important is not standing by and allowing someone to suffer or die! If that’s truly what you believe, then you don’t know the first damn thing about being Spider-Man!”

“[Y/Name]…” Peter B. trailed as he got your attention, walking closer to you and putting a gentle hand on your shoulder. “We cannot interfere.”

You smacked his hand off your shoulder and stepped back and away from him several times to be standing beside Miles instead. “You too? Peter this is wrong, so unbelievably fucking wrong!”

“[Y/Name], I can’t let you get in the way. I’m sorry.” Miguel apologized before he was throwing something at yours and Miles’ feet. The device activated and put up a scarlet force field, Miles panicked and beat against the walls. As the variants outside the force field argued you looked to Miguel and Miguel only. And he looked right back. You just stared at him, eyes hard and brows taut and pulled together as he stared right back.

You ignored Miles as he continued to search for a way out, Miguel finally pulled his eyes off yours as Peter B. advanced on him. “Miguel! This is taking it too far!”

“He’ll only do more damage, we all know that!”

As they continued to argue outside the shield you turned your back on Miguel and flexing your fingers extended your thick and powerful claws. You could tear this force field apart if you truly tried, that’s what you were going to do. But before you could even put your hands up your senses tingled and you instinctively put your arms around your head to protect yourself as the shield was destroyed by a powerful electrical surge.

When Miles destroyed the force field he hesitated for but a single moment before he turned, grabbed your wrist and took off.

“[Y/NAME]!”

You distantly heard behind you before you were freeing yourself from Miles to run beside him instead, and you two sprinted through Miguel’s headquarters with you leading him seeing as you’ve already been there for close to a little more than six months.

Getting out wasn’t hard, at least not for you. The variants certainly tried but they weren’t any match for you. A well seasoned and thoroughly trained hero with twelve years of polishing your expertise and craft to a fine point.

Miles had a little trouble keeping up but you didn’t get too far ahead of him in which he couldn’t follow, you two only got separated once. And whilst you weren’t entirely sure where he’d gone off to, you had the absolute pleasure of facing off against Miguel (note the sarcasm).

Your senses tingled as you discreetly swung through the underbelly of Miguel’s HQ, and you pulled yourself up just in time to avoid Miguel’s web. And the two of you fought and danced around each other throughout headquarters. Miguel trying to capture you and yourself avoiding that outcome at all costs by expertly evading him. When you had finally reached outside you met up again with Miles on the train overhead cover that was speeding upon a vertical track at astronomical velocity.

It was hard to hang on, even more so with Miguel on your ass but you made due. Better you than Miles and you’d gladly fend off Miguel for him if it meant he could find his way home to save his dad in time. Maybe it was a selfish part of you that wished something for him that you wanted to have, or maybe you truly just wished only the best for the younger variant.

Either way, Miguel was kicking your ass instead of his and you could live with that.

The 2099 Spider-Man choke slammed you onto the cold, hard metal of the futuristic locomotive and pinned you there by a hand around your neck.

“Can’t you see?! He’s the original anomaly! He’s not meant to be here! He is not Spider-Man!” The man snarled in your face. The anger he was feeling making his fangs appear and he sneered down at you, bearing them ferociously.

“He’s more Spider-Man than you’ll ever be!” You retaliated, attempting any sharp words pointed enough to cut him deep and painful. And you watched as his face turned and grew solemn for only one second before he was darkening his expression and snarling at you again.

“I hate to do this to you, but I can’t lose you over this!” He yelled over the roaring grind of the moving train. And your heart fell to your toes when he beared his fangs again— this time with a wide open mouth. A second later he was lunging forward intent to inject your body with venom.

You thanked whatever god above was listening for your much quicker reflexes as you caught him by the lower jaw and redirected his lunge to the air beside you instead.

Then you were bringing your legs up and forcing him away from you, not wasting a second you shot a web to the top car of the locomotive. You pulled yourself all the way up to where Miles had perched himself, and just before you could get a word out Miguel erupted out of nowhere and tackled Miles down.

You moved to help but got a web wrapped around your wrist instead, whoever shot it pulled you off your feet and then you found yourself under Peter B. Parker and Mayday instead.

“[Y/Name], enough!”

“No!”

“You can’t change destiny!” He argued, just as Miguel had done before, pinning you to the ground— though Peter’s was less of an attempt to capture you and just in a way to get you to listen to him.

“We control our own destiny Peter.”

“This’ll put the multiverse in danger! If you’d known your father would’ve been killed that night would you have saved him even if it meant there was an off-chance of your dimension being destroyed?!” Peter was just trying to reason with you now, and you stared directly into his warm brown eyes as you answered him.

“Without question.”

Peter drew back a bit at your response, then you watched behind him as Miguel flew overhead. That was your cue, so you grabbed Peter’s shoulders and utilized the enhanced strength of your specialty skills to push him off you.

Not enough to hurt him or Mayday but enough to give you space to escape, which you did. Once given enough breathing room to leap you leapt, jumping from the locomotive to fly through the air instead. Miles followed you, and Miguel was right behind.

You didn’t get much of that end of the chase, swinging directly to the headquarters and sneaking in past Kess and standing on the platform the machine usually used to send variants back to their proper dimensions.

It was minutes later when the machine suddenly came to life and you watched as the numerous screens turned on, looking a little closer you saw that it was Miles and that he was using his invisibility power to get the machine up and going.

Seconds later you felt his presence land beside you, and as the mechanical spider above lowered down and began creating the web to send Miles home and consequently you to his universe— Miguel erupted through the glass doors like a bat out of Hell.

And you stood back and watched as he sprinted to the platform’s edge, leapt over the gap and began furiously clawing at the web’s exterior.

Just as he was pulling it apart, the sequence completed and you and Miles were lifted into the air as the portal was created before the machine was throwing the two of you through the multiverse and into Miles’ universe.

• After the exhausting and frustrating chase, and even more annoying escape you and Miles had made.. you decided to follow him to his dimension, if only just to see that he’d be okay

• But he took off the second he was back in his own universe (or so you thought) and you were quick to follow, calling out his name in an attempt to get him to slow down but he did not listen

• So you just followed as he swiftly made his way to his apartment, only upon arrival you decided it might be best if you stayed outside which is exactly what you did, and you listened as he told his mom the truth and she responded with a question of her own not knowing who he was referring to

• When your spider senses started tingling uncontrollably is when you though something might be wrong so you webbed yourself to the roof of the building directly across Miles’ apartment and just observed from there

• As you watched him interact with a man that you assumed was his uncle your senses tingled again only it was too late to react when a muscled arm wrapped around your waist and a gloved hand covered your mouth, and then you were pulled backwards and through the portal into another dimension

• Upon arrival at the new universe you were pinned to the ground on your stomach by a heavy weight much larger and much stronger atop you, holding your arms in the small of your back and forcing you tighter against the ground

• You knew it was Miguel and you knew that unlike back at headquarters this pinch would be tighter to get yourself out of— so you didn’t intend to fight against him, you’d already done more than enough for Miles and on the off chance he still needed you then and only then would you fight for him again

• Until then, you’d accepted the fact you’d been captured, so you slumped to the rain soaked concrete of the building’s roof, and as you lay there you could only hope Miles had reached his father on time

—

a/n: Feel like it got kinda lame at the end but I hope you enjoyed the first post of the blog regardless! I’m super excited to get this blog started! Spiderverse is my hyper-fixation right now so that’s what I’ll be focusing on for a moment! Again, hope you enjoyed! Ciao!

[atlabeth]

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

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

summary: a look into your unclaimed year.

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

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

wc: 11.4k JESUS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could have warned me,” you seethed.

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you feel?” Tate asked anxiously. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank the gods you’re okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You huffed. “Sounds like an interesting place.” 

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

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

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

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

“You haven’t gotten a tour yet?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

You didn’t know where to start.

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

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

You frowned. “Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head. “Only the infirmary.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope so,” you murmured. 

“Luke, who’s the new girl?” 

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

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

“Unclaimed or your sibling?” he asked. 

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

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

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

He snorted. “You’re telling me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Course,” he said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “The god?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

“You promise you’ll be safe.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d the tour go?” he asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

“You’re not holding it right.” 

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

“You’re still not holding it right.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He winked. “Thank you.” 

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You still hadn’t been claimed. 

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

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

“How’re you doin’, Berkeley?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In training,” you said. 

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

“And my—” 

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

That gave you pause. “Bee?” 

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

“Just explain it,” you said. 

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

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

“Sure,” you said. 

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

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

“It’s in my genes,” he said proudly.

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

By the end, your face hurt from smiling

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.” 

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

“Are you okay?” 

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

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

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

“No, I don’t,” you whispered back. 

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

“It’s past curfew,” you mumbled. 

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

Still, you stared at him. 

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

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

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

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

“So,” you repeated. 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

Your frown deepened. “That’s awful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have your dagger with you?”

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

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

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

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

“We’re sneaking out even more?” 

“It’ll be fine,” Luke promised. 

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

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

-

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your parent?” he asked. You nodded. 

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

“Gee,” you said dryly, “thanks.” 

Luke shrugged. “You asked.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tilted your head. “That too.”

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

“God, I hope not. Priya hates me.” 

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

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

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

“I hope so.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I like it,” you said. 

“The ocean?” 

“Not so much.” 

“And the darkness?” 

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

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

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

“Why do you always do that?” 

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

“Do what?” 

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

“Luke—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always,” he said. “And I mean that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

“Luke,” you groaned, “this is awful.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luke grinned. “You think I’m pretty?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luke smiled. “You know I always am.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

“Luke,” you whispered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was your fault!” he exclaimed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Serene,” you suggested. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

Luke didn’t miss a beat. “Always.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look at me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh gods. You were in trouble. 

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

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

“Luke,” you whispered. 

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

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

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

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

But you didn’t. 

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you say,” he mused. 

-

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

“What’s got you so down?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you asked halfheartedly. 

“You— you’re—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(You should be happy.)

Your new siblings. 

…Your new cabin.

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

(You should be ecstatic.)

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

(Why are you not smiling?)

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

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

thanks for you request!! I’m SO SO SO sorry it took me so long to complete, there has been so many edits and rewrites and start overs but anyways, here is the final product, I’m praying it doesn’t disappoint. my motivation has not been there lately… anyways I gave it a go, hope you enjoy 🤍🤍

title: the hawthorne with the green eyes

pairing: jameson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: your avery’s best friend and she’s suddenly been thrown into a world that isn’t her own and she needs you… but in going to support your best friend, you don’t expect a certain someone to take you interest

warnings: mild swearing and mentions of the reader having a dead father

a/n: this is set mid the first inheritance games book, timelines may clash a little but work with me please 😭😭

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @heartwithsimplenotes @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual

“I go on holiday for two weeks and of course that’s when everything blows up,” I exclaimed over the phone.

Avery was down the other end. I’d practically just stepped foot back in my house after fourteen glorious days in Europe and just about had time to fling my suitcase to the corner of my room before I straight away called her. How did I miss everything?! Pretty much as soon as the plane touched down back in America my phone practically blew up with messages and calls and news alerts. Suddenly my best friend’s face was all over TV and I had a billion DMs from people I’d never even talked to before.

“Timing is impeccable as always,” Avery laughed.

“Tell me everything,” I said.

Screw jet lag, this was way more important. We had the longest conversation I think I’ve ever had in my whole lifetime. She told me all about the will of this mysterious Tobias Hawthorne and the people involved. She explained how she’d been flown all the way out to Texas and was now required to live in Hawthorne house for at least a year where basically the whole family resided. Including four of Tobias’s scarily hood looking and intelligent grandsons.

“I can’t lie, this all sounds like it’s been plucked right out of a novel,” I said.

“42.6 billion dollars,” she confirmed, “what gets more fictional than that?”

“Ave this is crazy,” I replied, eyes as wide as saucepans.

“I can’t believe it,” she responded with a long sigh.

“You’re literally a billionaire,” I murmured. Saying it out loud made it even more real, even more shocking.

“I never thought I’d hear anyone say that out loud,” she said, then she sighed again,“I just can’t work out why I inherited it, I mean over his family it doesn’t make sense.”

“Well what did his grandsons have to say?” I asked.

“One thinks it’s a game of sorts, like a puzzle,” she explained, “their grandfather used to give them puzzles when they were younger and he thinks I’m the final one.”

“Are you okay?” I questioned suddenly, feeling guilty I hadn’t asked her right away,

“Yeah I’m fine,” she exhaled, “I’m a billionaire right?”

“No, I mean are you really okay?” I clarified, “because if it were me I know I wouldn’t be.”

“I think I’m okay,” she replied, hesitating a little.

“Avery,” I sang in an accusing tone.

She laughed a little and then, “I don’t know how to feel about any of this,” she sighed, “god I wish you were here.”

“Then I’ll come,” I blurted out, the instinct too prominent to ignore.

“What?” she gaped, as I pictured her with a hanging jaw.

“I’ll come to wherever you are, seen as you can’t come to me,” I replied, “that is if you want me to.”

“Of course I do,” she said, “but that’s a long trip for you and-“

“I don’t care about any of that,” I interrupted her before she went off on a selfless tangent, “seeing you is going to make whatever I have to do to get there worth it.”

“You’re an angel, a real life angel,” she whispered and I could hear the smile in her voice.

I laughed, “see you as soon as possible, I have a plane ticket to book.”

“Wait,” she told me suddenly, making me jump a little, “I’m paying.”

“Avery-“ I said, attempting to begin to decline.

“No, you can’t even decline because I’m a billionaire,” she snapped before I could even say no, “heck I could buy you the whole plane if I wanted.”

“You don’t have to do any of that,” I pressed further.

“Let me buy the ticket, it’s the least I can do,” she said, “and I’m getting Oren to pick you up from the airport.”

My mind flicked back to her explanation, the name sounded familiar. It took a few minutes for it to finally come to me, “Isn’t that bodyguard?”

“He’s the only one I’d trust with your life,” Avery explained.

“God Ave, you make it sound like I’m going to get shot,” I attempted to joke.

“I really need to be cautious at the moment,” she said, warning in her voice, “this whole billionaire business is not as glamorous as it seems.”

“Oh Avery,” I murmured sympathetically, “I’ll be there to hear every last drop in a few hours, okay?”

“Thank you,” she said, he tone thick with gratitude, “you have no idea how much this means to me.”

***

Next thing I knew I was on a first class flight to Texas at three AM in the morning. I’d never flown first class before. It’s a shame I didn’t get really experience it, seen as I fell asleep for the entire flight, still exhausted from my previous travels. For the parts I was awake, it was beautiful and such a lovely smooth ride. When I’d finally made my way through passport control and grabbed my luggage I was in search of Oren. Avery had text me the number plate of the car ready to pick me up. Seemed she’d forgotten to mention it was a limo I was being picked up in. That information alone would’ve sorted me out just fine as there was only one limo at the pick up station. I walked up to the window and tapped on the blackout glass. It rolled down all of a sudden, making me jump. A man sat in the front, a flat serious expression on his face.

“Identification,” he said before I could even get a word out.

Identification? What the hell did that mean?

“y/n l/n,” I guessed, my name seeming like a viable option for a response.

“Physical identification,” he clarified.

“Can’t you see my face?” I asked, not really knowing what else he meant by physical identification.

“Do you want to get in this car?” he deadpanned.

Great! I’d gotten on the wrong side of Mr. Smiley now.

I wracked my brain for what he could mean by physical identification, “do you want my passport or something?”

“That’ll do,” he nodded sharply.

I fumbled around in my bag like an idiot until I find my passport. I handed it over as soon as I could.

He took it swiftly and analysed it for a good few minutes, “okay jump in.”

“Are you Oren?” I asked, swinging the back door open and putting my suitcase down by the seats.

“Most certainly,” he replied, as I slid in.

“Avery mentioned you,” I clarified, worried he might he starts speculating I’m an enemy imposter dressed up as Avery’s friend coming to commit a murder.

He gave me a thoughtful look as he began to pull out of the pick up station, “all good things I hope?

“Very good things,” I reassured him.

He smiled to himself, almost looking touched, “that’s nice to hear.”

We fell into an awkward silence. There was nothing more necessarily to be said but something hung in the air waiting to be said, but I don’t think either of us could work out what. Thankfully for me, it was Oren who broke the silence first.

“It is also nice Avery has a friend coming to stay with her but I hope you understand you won’t be able to have your normal coffee and catch up anymore, Avery’s life is so different now,” he said, his tone authoritative and serious.

“I know,” I nodded, “I understand how dangerous it all is. I’m just here to make sure she’s okay.”

“That’s very nice of you,” he replied, “you are a good friend.”

“This is the bare minimum,” I shrugged lightly, “and I know she’d do the same for me if ever I needed it.”

And that was true. She’d do anything for me in a heartbeat. Avery needed me right now, so that’s exactly where I’d be.

***

The rest of the car journey was relatively smooth. I conversed briefly some more with Oren, having the standard school and home life, getting to know me talk. I didn’t mind his company at all, he was a genuine man with a kind heart. I could tell as much from just that hour in the car. When we finally pulled up, sunrise is on the horizon. The house was a phenomenon.

I got out of the car and just stared up at it, my jaw dropped in pure shock. The exterior was huge and it looked like a castle crossed with a Manor House crossed with the worlds biggest mansion. Everything about it screamed prestigious. It reminded me of a historical palace I once toured when I was younger.

“It’s quite something, isn’t it,” Oren smiled, handing me my luggage.

“Oh thanks,” I nodded, “and yeah, woah. Avery owns the whole of this?”

“Every acre,” he nodded.

“Someone needs to pinch me, so I know I’m not dreaming,” I murmured, “it’s magnificent.”

“It truly is,” Oren agreed.

I stared up at the building again and attempt to take in the grounds. It’s so vast I can’t even see all of it. It expands for what seems like forever. I was so lost in thought when my name was shouted that I nearly didn’t hear it altogether.

“Y/N!” shouted a voice. It could only be one voice.

“AVERY!” I screamed, whipping my head around.

I spotted my best friend and suddenly discarded all of my luggage, it somehow seeming irrelevant at this time. We sprinted towards one another as fast as possible and collided. I flung my arms around her and squeezed her as tightly as humanly possible, it’s a wonder I didn’t suffocate her. She did the same, holding me so close that I heard the uneven thumping of her heart in her chest. I inhaled the comforting scent of her perfume as I closed my eyes, suddenly feeling at home in her arms. I didn’t even realise I was crying until we pull away from each other.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she laughed, tears also rolling down her cheeks.

“You better believe it girl,” I smiled, “thanks for the plane ticket, first class is gorgeous.”

“Get used to it,” she told me, with a little wink.

“No, I’m not becoming a gold digger friend,” I shook my head, putting a palm out, “I refuse.”

“We’ll see,” she said, with a graceful shrug.

“Nope,” I shook my head stubbornly.

“Let me show you the house,” she said, veering the subject elsewhere.

“I know you said it was big but you didn’t mention it was this big,” I gaped, my eyes glued to the structure.

She smiled sheepishly, “big was a bit of an understatement on my part.”

“You think?” I laughed, still trying to drink up the details.

As we walked up to the doorstep I became aware of movement coming from behind us, I turned around to see Oren walking around two meters behind us. Quickly I whipped my head back around to Avery, to avoid awkward eye contact with him.

“Does he follow you everywhere?” I asked, dropping my voice low.

“Most places,” she shrugged in reply.

I raised my eyebrows.

“It’s not as creepy as it seems, trust me,” she said, “he’s very subtle.”

“Okay,” I replied unsurely, tempted to turn around again.

“Just don’t think about it,” she told me as we approached the door.

I tried to, but it was impossible not to be aware of someone tracking your every move. I began to wonder if I’d been microchipped with cameras and microphones yet. Avery grabbed the door handle and turned it, pushing the door open to reveal what looked like magic.

It seemed even larger on the window with its towering central staircase and large windows. The corridors seemed endless and so did the rooms within them. The floorboards were wooden and glossy, clearly expensive. The carpeted parts were velvet, they must’ve been. I wouldn’t have been surprised to discover that everything was embroidered with some sort of gold laced trim. A large, intricately crafted chandelier hung roundly from the ceiling, glistening with crystals. It was mesmerisingly beautiful. And my best friend owned it all.

“Ave…” I trailed off, at a loss for words.

“I know,” she nodded, beaming at me, “come in.”

“I feel like if I walk on the floors I’ll scratch them or something,” I scoffed.

“Don’t be stupid,” she grinned, yanking my arm so I practically fell in, “where should we go first?”

“Shouldn’t we pick up a map or something?” I joked, “is there a tour guide who can show us around?”

She giggled, “I’m your certified map and tour guide today.”

“Lucky me,” I winked, “where to first, oh noble one.”

“How about my room?” Avery suggested.

“Yes! I need a room tour!” I replied, excitedly.

“This way,” she said, grabbing my hand and cocking her head towards the large central staircase, that split into two.

***

I’d thought the house was beautiful but I couldn’t believe Avery’s room. Heavenly was an understatement. She had a queen sized bed sat in the middle of the room, that looked so comfy just staring at it made me sleep. She had a chest of drawers and matching vanity and a massive bookshelf that I was green with envy of. I noticed two bifold doors on one side of the room, which confused me.

“Open them,” she grinned, as if reading my mind.

Slowly I curl my hand aground the edge and pried the two doors apart. I almost fainted at the sight. A walk in wardrobe. Of course I’d seen them in the movies but never in real life, in someone’s house. It was such a massive wardrobe, it reminded me of that scene from Barbie, where her wardrobe seemed endless.

“No way!” I gaped at her.

“Way!” she winked.

There were of course other species of furniture, like shelves, a desk and chair, a beanbag, bedside tables, an armchair and so much more. Anything could ever want or need was in that room. Like the huge TV or the mini fridge. There was a small door on the other side, which I presumed lead to an en-suite, as I caught a glimpse of bathroom tiles inside as the door was slightly ajar.

“It’s definitely an upgrade from the car,” Avery exhaled.

I looked at her sadly. I’d offered her to live with us for a while so many times, but she declined each and every time. I thought it was because she didn’t want to be a burden. She never deserved the life she had, she deserved this now. After all she’d been through, all she’d lost, all she’d worked for, she deserved this. And secretly I was glad a random dead billionaire left her in his will.

“Don’t give me that look,” she said quietly.

“What look?” I asked.

“The one where your eyes go all sad,” she murmured.

“My eyes go sad?” I said, almost laughing.

“You know what I mean,” she rolled her eyes, then sighed, “I wanted to live in my car okay?”

“Okay,” I mumbled, unconvinced.

No one wants to live in their car, it’s something you’re forced to do when your home is no longer liveable. But I didn’t press the matter, those days were long gone now. Now she had this. She pulled me down onto the mattress beside her. We laid down staring up at the ceiling, my head resting on hers. We didn’t say anything for a good while and the silence was comforting, it was nice. It allowed us to breathe a little.

“This house is full of secret passageways,” Avery murmured after a while.

“You’re kidding,” I said.

“Nope,” she grinned.

“This just gets more and more like a mystery movie by the second,” I replied, wide eyed.

“I know,” she said, “I’m finding it a little mental.”

“A little?” I scoffed.

She laughed lightly, airily. It was a pretty laugh but not a proper one, if I’d been looking at her face, I was sure that the smile wouldn’t have quite reached her eyes.

I say up and she followed suit, so I looked into her eyes and asked her, “are you really okay?”

There was a long pause. Hesitation. It told me everything already but still I waited for her to respond.

“No,” she sighed. It surprised me that she said that. Avery wasn’t one to admit she wasn’t okay very easily, not even to herself. So the fact that she was admitting that to me out loud spoke volumes. She was really not okay. I didn’t say anything right away and let her carry on.

“This is a lot,” she exhaled, “and I know it makes me sound so selfish. I have everything and anything I could ever want but it’s just so much to adjust to.”

“You don’t sound selfish, you sound human,” I reassured her. She needed to know that her feelings were normal, if I were in her position I know I’d be a mess. But she was here, holding it all together or trying to at least.

“I have a helicopter, a freaking helicopter and there’s all these interviews I have to do, functions I have to attend,” she exclaimed, “I don’t know what to do with myself half the time. I mean it’s so obvious I don’t fit in, I wasn’t born into all of this.”

She took a sharp breath in and I decided I needed to let her rant and get these things off of her chest.

“School is like a living hell, most people hate me,” she groaned, “private school is not for me, I’ve got no friends there and everyone seems to be either shooting me weird looks or whispering my name. And it shouldn’t affect me and I know it’s pathetically stupid but it really does.”

“Hey,” I soothed, rubbing up and down her arms, “kids are stupid and you know they’re just jealous. Besides you won’t be in school for that much longer anyway. One, two years with these people and then you never have to see them again. And you’ve only just joined recently, there’s time to make friends if you want to. And I’m only a call away, no matter where you are, what time it is, we have phones for a reason.”

“Yeah,” she blew out a breath, “yeah, okay.”

“You can carry on,” I told her, “just get the weight off of your shoulders.”

“I don’t want to complain, it feels wrong,” she sighed.

“Nu-uh,” I snapped wagging my finger, “you’re a human with feelings which means you have every right to complain so shoot girl.”

“Thank you, really,” she said, her big hazel eyes deep with gratitude.

“Stop thanking me for doing the bare minimum, this is like getting you a spoon from the cutlery drawer when you ask,” I said, “now tell me, what else?”

“My life is apparently constantly at risk, I mean I have bodyguard who is standing outside this door right now,” she replied, “I could be killed. Literally killed. And people want to do that to me and that’s so hard-“

Her voice broke and she struggled ro pull herself together, despite how hard she was trying. I instinctively enveloped my arms around her and pulled her tight to my chest

“I’m sorry Avery,” I murmured, “that’s awful, absolutely awful. But you have Oren and you know he’s going to take good care of you, you have whole teams of people preventing that from happening.”

She mumbled an indecipherable response and let a few tears slip.

“And these stupid people aren’t making things any easier for me. All of them are so…” she trailed off, “I can’t find the right word to describe them. Grayson thinks I’m some sort of threat and I’ve inherited this money because I’m a scheming, lying, manipulative snake. Xander seems to live to confuse me, constantly throwing out weird phrases that just throw me off. Nash, well Nash is just very laid back, he doesn’t seem to care about me or my role in the will which is good, but I don’t like the way he looks at Libby. And Jameson…” she hesitated, “Jameson thinks I’m just a game, one left by his grandfather. And the worst part is I dont even know what I’m here and I can’t figure it out.”

“Yet,” I replied.

She titled her head, confused, “What?”

“I can’t figure it out yet,” I explained.

“That’s patronising,” she said, “are you trying to take me back to first grade?”

“It might help you,” I shrugged.

“First grade?” she laughed.

“An open mindset,” I clarified.

She doesn’t reply.

“These grandsons for the most part seem a bit snobbish if you ask me, you shouldn’t pay too much attention to them,” I said, “they’re not worth you at all. You’re not a snake, you’re not stupid, your sister isn’t a prize and you’re not a game. You know this, in here,” I press my palm on the left side of her chest, “don’t let them make you forget it.”

She smiled through glossy eyes,“what would I do without you?”

“Have a mental breakdown in the shower alone and pretend it’s all okay,” I guessed.

“I did that yesterday,” she told me.

“Damn it I didn’t get here fast enough,” I joked, my heart breaking at the thought of Avery sobbing all alone.

She cracked a weak smile, “you got here, you are here, that’s all I care about.”

“Just take a second and breathe, okay?” I said.!

“Breathing,” she replied. I could hear she was breathing in and out in a rhythmic, calming motion.

“Good, keep going,” I nodded in encouragement.

We fell into silence again but like most of our silences, neither of us felt discomfort. I let her breathe, I let her think, I let her have the moment to herself I know she’d felt to selfish to take since she got here.

“Better?” I asked after a while.

“Better,” she nodded her head.

“You’re going to get through this, it just all seems a lot right now because you’re not used to it and it’s all come at once,” I said.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she replied.

We wrapped our arms around each other, a warm hug acting as some sort of cocoon, excluding the outside world for mere moments. I breathed in her shampoo, the smell comforting. We stayed in each other’s arms for long time. We had both needed it.

“I’m really glad your here,” she whispered as we pull away.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” I told her.

***

“I still can’t believe you live here now,” I exhaled, the side of my cheek pressed on her head.

We’d gone back to talking, catching up on each other’s lives for a bit. It seemed we just never could stop talking. And it felt good.

“I know, it’s crazy,” she admitted, “me and Lib have just about got used to it.”

“Libby’s here? Now?” I asked excitedly.

Avery nodded.

“Please can we go and see her?” I asked, “I haven’t seen her in so long.”

“Of course,” she grinned, “I’m just going to ignore the fact that you love my sister more than you love me.”

“It’ll probably make you feel better,” I shrugged, teasing her slightly.

“Hey!” she laughed, slapping my arm lightly.

I’d forgotten how much I’d missed Avery’s company. She wasn’t just my best friend, she was part of me. Every time we were together I was just immediately elevated. I needed her.

“What? You said it,” I grinned, poking my tongue out.

“My best guess is that she’s baking in the kitchen, so we’ll look there first,” she explained.

“How comes she’s baking at nine in the morning?” I asked.

“She’s productive,” Avery shrugged.

I nodded as we exited her room. I followed Avery, presuming she would know where she was going. But after a labyrinth of corridors and a few smiling landmarks, I began to doubt her orienteering skill and decided we were lost.

“Ave I swear I’ve seen that suit of armour before,” I mentioned to her.

“There’s a suit of armour?” she asked.

“We’ve seen it like three times now,” I nodded, pointing to it.

She tilted her head and examined it, “we have not!”

“I’m telling you we definitely have,” I replied,

“You have walked past it four times actually,” a sudden voice said, making me jump out of my skin.

I turned around to see a boy coming up behind us. He was very tall, towering over both Avery and I. There was a bounce in his step and amusement in his voice, he was young, energetic and full of life. He had dark skin and a small grin planted on his lips. And there was a certain wistful sparkle in his eyes. I presumed he was one of the four grandsons, but I was trying to work out which one due to the descriptions Avery had given me.

“Have you been watching us?” Avery scoffed, arms folded,

“I just happened to notice you walking past four times,” the boy shrugged.

Avery narrowed her eyes at him, “why did you count?”

“I wanted to see how many tries it would take you until you realised you were lost,” he replied coolly.

“We’re not lost,” Avery insisted.

“Are you sure?” he chuckled, eyebrows raised.

“I call it non-purposeful wandering,” I piped up

He looked at me for the first time, his deep chocolate eyes meeting mine. His eyebrows now shuffled inwards and he tilted his head to the side, “I don’t recognise you.”

“I’m y/n,” I smiled, “I came to visit Avery.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” he nodded, “did you only just arrive?”

“It was about an hour ago,” I shrugged in reply.

“Did you fly all the way out here?” he asked me.

“From Connecticut to Texas,” I confirmed with a short nod of the head.

“Now tell me,” he said, looking very serious, “do robots interest you?”

I side glanced at Avery and she subtly signalled for me to carry on conversation.

“I’ve never really thought about it before,” I said honestly.

“How have you lived your life without thinking about robots?” he gasped, looking somewhere between purely shocked and offended.

“I don’t know,” I replied, “should I start?”

“I’d strongly advise you to,” he said, “they’re most interesting.”

“Is that why you’ve got a singed eyebrow and oil on your sleeves?” I asked, not being able to suppress my mind’s curiosities.

“Observant,” he smiled.

“That’s what they say,” I replied awkwardly, knowing Avery would tease me about this later.

“Robots have a tendency to explode when you get them a bit wrong,” he explained, “if you can get past that, it’s great.”

“Explosions don’t really sound like my cup of tea,” I said, “but I suppose you never know until you try.”

“You have a good spirit,” he told me, “I think you would work well with robotics.”

“Thanks,” I replied, taking it as a compliment to mask my confusion over the whole conversation. I took him as someone who you just rolled with, no matter what. So that’s what I was attempting to achieve.

“Blueberry or lemon?” he asked me.

“Blueberry, no matter the context,” I answered without missing a beat.

“I like you,” he nodded, “Avery can we keep her?”

“For the time being,” she grinned, “unless she starts biting.”

“Can’t make any promises,” I winked then turned back to the boy, “you know your way around this place right?”

“Most of it, though I still discover a new secret passage way every now and then,” he shrugged, as if it were the norm to find secret passageways around your house.

“Do you know how we get to the kitchen?” Avery asked.

“And you said you’re not lost,” he teased her.

“She’s testing you,” I said,

“Is it because you got stuck non-purposefully wandering on your way there,” he smiled, using my precious wording,

“Precisely,” I nodded.

“Okay then,” he replied, “to get the kitchen you just need to follow these suits of armour and when they stop take two rights and walk down your closest set of stairs. You should find it there, if I’m not mistaken.”

My jaw hung slack, “you memorised that?”

“Sort of, thought I usually end up stumbling upon the kitchen by accident through a secret passage way,” he shrugged, “it’s an important room to locate.”

“I guess,” I agreed

He nodded, “Safe travels.”

“We’re not trekking across a desert,” I laughed.

“No,” he smiled, “this is much worse.”

And with that he turned and walked in the opposite direction. We watched him until he exited the corridor and went off elsewhere.

“That’s Xander,” Avery filled me in.

“The one who’s addicted to scones?” I asked, the blueberry or lemon question finally making sense.

“Yes, that’s him,” she confirmed.

“Yeah that figures,” I nodded, “I like him.”

“He’s nice, I mean he doesn’t act like he wants to kill me all the time so that’s a plus,” she said.

“Oh yeah, when do I get to meet the angel of a man who keeps wishing you death?” I grinned.

“Hopefully you won’t have to,” she grimaced

We finally made it to the kitchen, after a few wrong turns and a game of eeny-meeny-miny-mo. I spotted Libby from the doorway. She was piping vibrant blue icing, almost the colour of her hair, into a pink sponge cupcake. I snuck up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist, tightly squeezing her closer. She let out a small gasp in surprise.

“Guess who?” I murmured excitedly.

“Is this real or does someone have to pinch me?” she asked, the smile in her voice.

“It’s real,” I assured her.

I let go of her and she spun around, cupping my face in her palms.

“Y/n!” she beamed widely at me, brining me in for a hug, “hi love, it’s been a while, huh?”

“Too much of a while if you ask me,” I mumbled into her.

“Glad to see you again,” she smiled as we break apart. The unspoken ‘make sure my sister is okay’ running through her eyes.

“Me too,” I replied, silently reassuring her of the reason I was here.

“I’m starting to think you prefer my sister to me,” Avery scoffed, scooping a little buttercream onto her finger tip and popping it into her mouth

“Sometimes I do,” I replied mischievously.

“Hey,” she complained.

I stuck out my tongue in reply.

“Ooo please taste this,” Libby said, quickly grabbing a couple of cupcakes and handing one to both me and Avery.

“Well it’d be rude not to,” I grinned, taking one gratefully.

“It would,” she agreed as Avery broke the half of the bottom off of her cupcake and put it into of the icing to make her little cupcake sandwich.

I stared at her in disapproval, “you are a monster for doing that.”

“You’re just bitter because it’s the smartest way to eat a cupcake,” she replied.

“When you eat a cupcake you shouldn’t be analysing how you eat it you should just eat it how it is,” I exclaimed passionately. We’d had this fight many of times and I would never stop backing my corner.

“I don’t want icing smeared up my nose,” Avery defended, “and this is the best way to prevent that.”

I shook my head and took a bite of my cupcake, like a normal person. The flavours tantalised my tastebuds, teasing them to crave more. The cake itself was airy and light, not too dry but not too moist. It was the perfect cake to icing ratio and nothing was over sweet or too artificial. It was like heaven on my tongue. I’d really missed these.

“So…” Libby asked, nervously, “what do you think?”

“How do you do it?” I replied, taking another bite.

“Good?”

“That’s an understatement,” I told her, “is there fairy dust in this or something?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” a new person entered, cutting off whatever Libby’s reply was. His accent was definitely Texan and I looked up to my surprise to find an older looking man. Well not old at all, just older than me. I presumed he was in his twenties. He wore a cowboy hat, titled slightly to one side and from under it I noticed his brownish-blondish hair. He had hazel eyes and a sharp jawline but what stood out to me was his nose. He had a similar nose to Xander which gave him away to being another grandson, but which one?

“What are you doing here?” Libby asked, annoyance in her tone.

It surprised me. I had never heard Libby talk to anyone with any remotely negative connotation. I widened my eyes and looked to Avery who only shrugged in response.

“Coming to check up on you and your crazy cupcake baking obsession,” he explained, walking further into the room.

“I don’t need checking up on,” she grumbled, turning back to her piping bag.

“Oh I know that darlin’,” he smiled. It was the kind of smile that you don’t see often, the kind of smile that shows everyone else in that room that the person who is being smiled at is the other person’s whole world.

No one had ever smiled at me like that.

I scooted closer to Avery and whispered, “Are they…”

“I don’t know, I’m 99% sure but it’s not official,” she explained quickly.

“Oh okay,” I nodded.

We watched as they bickered, back and forth for a little bit, unsuppressed smiles on both of their faces. They meant something to one another, even if they didn’t know it yet. They continued to argue until the cowboy noticed my presence.

“Who’s the new one?” he asked, nodding at me

“New one? She has a name,” Libby said sharply.

“I’m y/n. Avery’s friend and Libby’s practically adopted little sister, nice to meet you,” I introduced myself.

“Am I even relevant anymore?” Avery sighed.

“Nope,” me and Libby grinned simultaneously.

“Nash,” he nodded, shaking my hand, “nice to meet you too.”

“We’re going to get going now,” Avery said, “I haven’t shown her the bowling alley yet.”

My eyes widened, “bowling alley?”

“Catch you guys later,” she grinned, pulling me out of the kitchen.

“You have a bowling alley in your house,” I said, still in shock, “why didn’t you tell me already?”

“When’s the best time to bring up the fact you have a bowling alley, I mean it’s not exactly normal conversation,” she told me.

“Okay fair enough,” I responded, as we start walking again, “so are we meeting everyone like it’s a parody of sorts?”

“Seems like it,” she sighed,

“Tour of the hottie Hawthorne’s,” I joked, spreading my arms out to reveal an invisible sign.

She giggled, “hottie?”

“Oh please, you can’t deny it, they’re all gorgeous so far,” I said.

She looked around cautiously, “they could be listening you know?”

“Oh well I’m sure they know,” I scoffed, “besides you’re telling me that you don’t find at least one of them attractive?”

“Moving on,” she said quickly, brushing over the subject, with pink-tinged cheeks.

“Are you blushing?” I asked her.

“No,“ she replied bluntly, “shut up.”

“You’re blushing,” I sang, “which one is it? Oh please tell me Ave!”

“None of them,” she insisted, digging her heals in.

“I don’t believe you,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her.

She replied, “that’s because you have trust issues.”

“No it’s because I know you’re lying,” I told her.

She didn’t reply.

“You better tell me fast because I will attempt to make a move on one of them at some point,” I warned her, “Nash is already out of the question because he’s Libby’s, so which ones yours? I’ll pick between the other two.”

She laughed. It was the first time since we’d met up that I’d seen her properly crack a smile, her eyes fully lighting up, “pick whoever you want, no one’s mine.”

“You might regret saying that later on,” I warned her.

“Doubt it,” she shrugged, “just be careful, okay? These people, this family… just be careful.”

“I will, promise,” I nodded, “so who’s on stage next in ‘let’s meet the Hawthorne brothers’.”

“It’s a surprise,” Avery said,

I smiled, “oooo how intriguing!”

We turned the corner and I noticed someone approaching. Avery did too, as I noticed her breathing sped up a little.

“Speak of the devil and I mean the literal devil, here comes another,” she muttered.

Approaching us was a blonde. Like his brothers, he was tall, but not as tall. He was dressed in what looked to be a highly expensive suit and matching designer shoes. His face was serious and unemotional, like it was paralysed in a state of seriousness.

“Woah, hello jawline,” I mumbled, after catching a glimpse.

“Wait until he looks you in the eyes,” Avery murmured.

“Oh god he walks really fast,” I said quietly, as he approached closer and closer.

She grinned at me, “rich boy leg strides.”

I tried to smile but fail, “Why is my heart beating so fast?”

“He has that effect of people,” she shrugged, “intimidation.”

“Why does he look like he wants to kill me,” I said under my breath when he was about two meters away.

“That’s just his face,” she reassured me.

I began to ask another question, “Are-“

“Shut up,” Avery hissed and I understood why. The blonde had stopped infront of us and he was staring me up and down, as if he were scanning for some sort of hidden weapon I had.

“Who’s this?” Goldilocks snapped, his voice clearly portraying his dominance.

“A friend,” Avery replied curtly.

“A potential threat,” he said sharply.

Why did everyone in this place think I was some sort of axe-murderer. Was it common in Texas or something?

“She’s none of your business,” Avery grits through her teeth.

“We’ll see about that,” he replied walking away.

He hadn’t bothered to introduce himself, though I couldn’t work out if it was because he felt I was too below him or he just didn’t feel a need to. Whatever it was, it was clear that there was a tension between those two, but I decided not to bring it up yet.

“What’s he going to do? Research me?” I scoffed.

Avery shrugged as we continue walking, “probably.”

“You’re kidding!” I laughed.

“I wish I was,” she said, wiping the smile off of my face.

“So I take it he’s the one that hates you for breathing?” I clarified, mentally ticking him off of my list of what Hawthorne’s I had met and what ones I hadn’t.

“Yep,” she nodded, “that was Grayson.”

“Yeesh, his jawline looked dangerously sharp,” I winced.

“Better not get on the wrong side of it,” she winked.

“I think I already am,” I blew out a breath, “I mean if looks could kill…”

“Oh we’d both be long gone,” Avery giggled.

“I get the eye thing now,” I groaned rubbing my eyes, “god, ouch, it burns.”

“Doesn’t the piercing grey just give you a headache?” she asked.

“It really does, have you got aspirin?” I said.

She shrugged, “somewhere in the maze of a house.”

“Was he wearing a designer suit?” I was dying to ask.

“Always,” she nodded.

“You’re kidding, all the time?” I gaped.

She sighed, “All the time.”

***

We spent the rest of the day in various different places. I adored the library and the dance studio as well as the karaoke bar and swimming pool. These people had everything. But something was playing on my mind. I’d met three of the four Hawthornes, which meant there was still one to go. I hadn’t seen the other all day, but I had stumbled across his brothers another few times. I found it odd. Avery only shrugged when I asked her about it and presumed he was drunk somewhere. Avery and I had also convinced ourselves Grayson had a murder club, consisting only of himself, and we were the first on his hit-list. We figured if we went, we’d go together so it’d be alright.

Somehow, after touring not even a quarter of the house, we ended up back on her bed again, me catching her up on old school drama. I’d forgotten that she’d missed the break up of the century with an added cheating scandal from the girl with the guy’s brother.

“Hey I just need to run and find Libby a minute, I’ll be back,” she’d told me, after she’d received a text in her phone.

“Everything okay?” I checked.

“Fine,” she nodded once, “I’ll be back soon.”

But soon didn’t feel that soon. It was a little awkward sat in someone else’s bedroom without them. I didn’t know what to do with myself. After a while, I decided I should look for Avery. I opened the door and smacked into someone and almost toppled over.

“You should really watch you’re going, heiress,” the person said.

“Maybe you should too,” I scowled, looking up to meet a pair of alluring green eyes.

“You’re not Avery,” he replied, looking very confused.

“Gee, you’re observant,” I rolled my eyes, then suddenly felt a pang of guilt, “sorry, I tend to overreact when I’m pissed off.”

“A quality we share,” he grinned slightly.

“I wouldn’t call it a quality,” I said.

I stared at him properly, he was tall with dark, unruly hair. He had a similar bone structure than his brothers but his face was softer than Grayson’s, his features warmer.

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” he smiled, a witty, mischievous smile, “Jameson Hawthorne.”

He extended a hand towards me and I took swiftly it. His grip was hard, strong I noted. Jameson, the brother I was yet to meet. And dare I say it, he was the best looking by far.

“So who are you?” he asked.

“I’m y/n,” I said, “I’m a friend of Avery’s, I’ve come to stay with her.”

“That’s nice of you,” he commented, a little awkwardly.

“It’s the least I can do,” I replied quietly.

He doesn’t say anything back but I don’t want him to. It was hard enough focusing on conversation when he was looking at me. He was gorgeous. Simply gorgeous. His whole face with was the picture of perfection. Symmetrical, but not harshly, it was more of a mellow, kind symmetry, that enhanced all of his features. His soft looking lips, his nice shaped nose and his eyes. God those eyes. They were a rich green like nature, glistening with intelligent thoughts.

“Well I suppose I’ll see you around then,” he said, pocketing his hands.

“I suppose you will,” I replied.

He walked away slowly and I realised that evening that my stomach fluttered whenever I thought about the Hawthorne with the green eyes.

***

That night I found it so hard to sleep. Avery was out in a mere few minutes but I couldn’t even shut my eyes. Tossing and turning and tossing and turning until I got so bored that I just slipped out of bed all together. I pulled a pair of socks on and left Avery’s room, beginning to wonder the dark hallway. I didn’t really think any of it through. Wandering in the dark, alone, in a house I didn’t know, surrounded by people I didn’t know.

“Midnight wandering are we?”

His voice made me jump but I didn’t let him see that. I turned around to see Jameson Hawthorne stood behind me. How long had he been there then? He looked so poised, so ready, like a big cat on the prowl. He needed to know I wasn’t his prey.

“Maybe,” I replied, a smile adorning my lips, “but even if I am I don’t know why that’s any of your concern.”

“Maybe I’m not concerned, just curious,” he said, “are you lost?”

“No,” I lied to myself and the world.

He waited a few beats.

“Maybe a little,” I smiled shyly, “this place is even harder the navigate in the dark.”

“Lucky for you I know it like the back of my hand,” he did, extending his hand towards me.

I stared at it, “do you want me to hold it or something?”

“No,” he shrugged, “I mean if you want to-“

“No,” I blurted out quickly, “not at all.”

He dropped his hand, a shadow of an expression I couldn’t read shifting across his face.

“Follow me then,” he said, shooting me a lopsided grin that I somehow manage to make out in the dark.

I walked beside him. He was wearing a plain black t-shirt and slightly baggy pyjama pants. My cheeked heated up as I suddenly became horribly aware that I was dressed in my pyjama top reading ‘I need coffee’ and shorts decorated with cartoon coffee cups. I hoped Jameson wasn’t paying that much attention to me.

“So why are you awake?” he asked casually.

“I can’t sleep,” I replied bluntly. There wasn’t much more to it.

“Straight forward as that?” he said.

“Pretty much,” I shrugged, “why are you awake?”

“Can’t sleep,” he replied, with a small smile.

“Copycat,” I teased.

“Am I stealing your thunder?” he played along.

“Very much so,” I said, folding my arms across my chest, with a pointed stare laced with banter.

“My deepest apologies,” he exaggerated.

“Not accepted!” I exclaimed.

He grinned, then shoved his hands in his pockets, “Where do you want to go first?”

“Where would you like to take me?” I countered.

“I respect people who answer questions with questions,” he noted.

“Good because I do it far too often,” I told him.

“We’re going to the games room,” he announced.

“Why?” I questioned, like a whiny child.

“Because it is where I’d like to take you,” he shrugged delicately, before picking up the pace with longer leg strides.

I struggled to keep up as I asked, “this isn’t going to be like one of those sadistic murders where you cook me alive and blame it on someone else is it?”

“How did you figure out my master plan?” he teased, with a joking expression.

“I guess you’re just too predictable,” I replied, with a laugh.

“So you watch true crime then?” Jameson said.

From that comment I gathered he was an analyser. Just like me. He analysed conversation and made educated assumptions about people. But what split us apart was that he had the courage to say it to there faces, I kept all my observations in my head. I didn’t care if they were unconfirmed. But Jameson did.

“I listen to a podcast now and then, not a fanatic or anything like that,” I replied.

“Should we play a game?” he said to me, changing the subject suddenly.

“I thought we were going to a games room?” I said.

He thought for a moment and then responded, “a pre-game game.”

“I’ve heard you and your family are quite fond of those,” I said.

“Oh really?” he joked, quirking a brow.

“Yes really,” I grinned back.

“I see,” he pondered “and do you like games?”

“Depends,” I replied.

“On…” he prompted.

“What I’m playing,” I told him, “who I’m playing it with and why I’m playing it.”

“Interesting,” he hummed, opting thoughtful tone, “the man who makes it doesn’t want it, the man who buys it doesn’t need it and the man who needs it doesn’t know it yet.”

“Is that a riddle?” I almost laughed. It was so out of the blue, so sudden asking me a riddle in the middle of a conversation.

“Is my last name Hawthorne?” he countered with a smirk.

“A coffin,” I answered briskly. It wasn’t difficult to work out.

His eyebrows flew to his forehead, “that was fast.”

“Your riddle was maudlin and far too simple,” I shrugged.

He raised an eyebrow, “too easy? Okay, let’s try another and see if you’re as cocky.”

“Not cocky, just honest,” I replied.

He paused for a moment, thinking, “how can you physically stand behind your father while he is standing behind you?”

“My father is dead,” I said. It was true. I don’t know he I suddenly felt the need to blurt it out. It just happened.

“Oh-“

“But we’d have to be standing back to back,” I replied quietly, “that’s the answer to your riddle.”

“Correct again,” he nodded, then hesitated, “and I’m sorry about your dad,”

“Oh it’s okay, it’s not your fault,” I shrugged lightly, “I was young when it happened.”

I didn’t remember much, just being told I wouldn’t see him ever again. I had asked why and they had said he was going to stay in the stars now. And when I asked them if he’d ever come and visit, they told me couldn’t. So I cried. During the most part of my childhood I despised the stars, I’d stare up at them with a tear streaked face and curse them for stealing my dad. When I got older I realised the only thief was death and that the stars were nothing but a metaphor to hold a memory.

“I’m sorry,” he said again.

I shoot him a small smiled, letting him know I’m okay and that we can move on. He read my expression well and together we carry on. After a little while he stopped in his tracks outside a set of doors. I almost crashed into the back of him as he paused to abruptly. He swung both doors open at the same time, having a little ‘Elsa’ moment in let it go, as he walked through with his held high. I quickly followed, trying not to gape at the extraordinary components of the room.

There was a pool or was it a snooker table, there was air hockey, ping pong, table football, everything you could ever imagine. There was also a regular coffee table, surrounded by comfy looking chairs and a sofa. But what caught my eye the most was the games cabinet. It was a sight to behold. It covered an entire wall and reached all the way up to the ceiling. There was a ladder on the side that looked like it could slide across, like a book ladder. Within the cabinet laid dozens upon dozens of board games and other games alike were piled atop of each other, like books in an old crooked bookshop, all slanted and uneven in the most perfect of ways. There must’ve been thousands of games here. Jameson caught me staring.

“Ever played chess?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“I don’t live under a rock you know,” I deadpanned.

He cracked a smile, “good.”

He jumped on the ladder and swiftly pulled out one of the several chessboards from the shelf and placed it down on the little coffee table. I followed him there and we both sat down. He then began to set it up and I was quick to help out the pieces in place.

“How good are you?” he asked.

“Why? You scared?” I teased, attempting to psych him out before the game even started.

“Only curious,” he said, cool as a cucumber.

“I can’t say,” I shrugged, “how can I judge my own ability fairly, I’m biased.”

“I suppose,” he replied, “but you would know if you’re alright at it.”

“I’ve won before,” I said. Actually I’d won quite a lot before, many many times. I wasn’t exactly lying, just being vague to work in my favour.

The board is set up, “what colour?”

“You choose,” I told him.

He shifted the board so the black chess pieces are on his side. Secretly my preference was the white anyway. I did a quick analysis of the board and sketch out a rough game plan in my head. I didn’t spend to long thinking, this game could go anyway and I didn’t want to be thrown off, but knowing what you sort of want to do was a start. Definitely the first few moves anyway.

“You start,” he urged.

“Such a gentleman,” I joked.

“I can’t help it,” Jameson winked in response.

I picked up a pawn between my middle finger a thumb, surprised at how smooth the finish was. This was an expensive chess set. I went with my classic start move of two spaces forwards into the centre. He grinned and mirrored the move on his turn.

“Copycat,” I teased.

“I would apologise but you still haven’t forgiven me from earlier,” he shrugged in reply.

“And I probably never will,” I grinned.

“Is this the beginning of some Shakespearean vendetta?” he scoffed, with a playful undertone.

“It might be, we’ll have to see,” I shrugged, “I haven’t decided whether it’s a comedy or tragedy yet.”

“Pick comedy, I don’t want to die at the end,” he said.

“We’re all going to die at the end,” I told him.

He replied, “not what I meant.”

“I know,” I smiled.

“You’re getting in my head,” he observed, realising my tactic.

“Am I?” I asked, batting my eyelashes.

“Yes you’re distracting me from the game,” he said sharply.

“Oh I hadn’t even realised!” I exclaim, doe eyed and innocent.

He narrowed his eyes at me, “your move.”

“Right,” I nodded.

We didn’t have much conversation after that. Actually the only conversation consisted of ‘your turn’ or ‘thanks’. Other than that only the sound of chess pieces being slid about the board could be heard as well as the dull silence that seemed like the loudest sound of them all.

Jameson had a lot of my pieces, the ones I didn’t need in my opinion. I let him have them, I want him to think I don’t know how to defend my pieces.

go on… my mind smiles, please. underestimate me.

I was deceptive and wanted him to underestimate me so I could surprise him, catch him off guard and steal the game from right under his annoyingly perfect nose. But Jameson Hawthorne wasn’t a big of a fool as I thought him to be. The few times I’d been forced to pull out critical moves, he noted them. He began to realise my talent for the game about half way through. He too was a talented player. His moves were swift but calculated, he was going to be a hard opponent to beat.

Move after move. Minute after minute. It was getting intense. Every move was critical, every second in between play was agonising. I found myself constantly self-consciously chewing on my bottom lip, captivated in my concentrated state.

He made his move and suddenly I realised what I can do. I could take a risk and bargain on what his next move was to trick him, but the tactic would only work if he moved the piece I needed him to move, otherwise it was checkmate for me. I sat there, weighing up my options. There was a chance he’d work it out and beat me, but there was also a chance he wouldn’t and I’d beat him. My eyes darted from left to right and back again until I impulsively took the chance. Praying my efforts had paid off, I watch his painstakingly slow next move. He shifted his knight diagonally by two. I wanted to stand up and scream in joy. I had him trapped. Brilliant. My calculated risk had actually worked. I kept a poker face as I realised he’d not yet noticed that I was a venus flytrap and he had crawled blindly towards me.

“Checkmate,” I smiled, leaning back.

His eyes were wide with surprise as his eyebrows shot up to his forehead. The reaction was so real, he didn’t have time to hide it. His jaw wanted to hang down but he was stopping it, I could see the clenched muscles.

“What?” I asked “didn’t plan on being beaten?”

“I was going easy on you,” he gritted through his teeth.

I grinned widely. So losing was a sore spot for Me Hawthorne. Interesting.

“That would explain why you look so shocked that I won,” I said with a sweet victorious smile.

“Fine, rematch but this time we play Hawthorne chess,” he replied, as if it were a deadly game.

“Hawthorne chess?” I raised my eyebrows.

He only smirked in reply.

***

He explained the rules. It was a lot like regular chess but there were six boards to play over and a few added rules that confused me. It wasn’t long before Jameson had me cornered.

“Checkmate,” he grinned, nicking my king.

“I was going easy on you,” I teased, mocking his earlier comment.

“Ha-ha,” he deadpanned, looking very unamused.

“Is your ego mended now you have a win?” I asked.

“Not quite,” he replied.

“Shame,” I pouted.

“Another match?” he suggested.

I shook my head then rubbed my temples, “I can feel a headache coming on. It’s probably from my lack of sleep.”

“Do you want me to walk you to bed?” he offered.

I shook my head again, “I’m not tired. My head just hurts.”

“I know something that might help,” he said.

“Okay,” I agreed.

“Fancy taking a trip the kitchen?”

“This is feeling very serial killer-y again.”

“I only snap into serial killer-y mode every third Wednesday,” he joked.

“Well now I know I’m safe!” I grinned back at him

***

We walked to the kitchen together and I noted it was a completely different route to the one I’d taken with Xander’s instructions this morning with Avery.

Once we got there Jameson leaned against the counter and asked me, “do you like hot chocolate?”

I nodded.

“Or would you prefer a coffee?”

His eyes were pinned to my pyjama set as he said it. I self-consciously looked down and blush a deep shade of scarlet, remembering the deign, as he snickered.

“Very witty,” I rolled my eyes sarcastically, “hot chocolate is fine.”

He fumbled around for a saucepan in the endless row of cupboards. I didn’t know how he knew which one to search in, they were all identical. He put it onto the hob and added some milk.

“Our cook goes home after serving dinner so I’ve gotten pretty good at midnight concoctions,” he explained.

“The way you say that makes me a little nervous there,” I told him.

“Maybe you should be,” he flashed a smile.

He put the hon on to heat up the milk and grabbed the instant hot chocolate powder, whipped cream, mini marshmallows and sprinkles.

“Are you five years old?” I laughed.

“Mentally,” he nodded, “is that an issue?”

“Not at all,” I said , “I’m with you there.”

“Nice to know I have a fellow person who had the metal capacity of five year old too,” he beamed, “our conversations will be incredible.”

“We’re having a conversation right now,” I stuck my tongue out, childishly.

“I’m describing the ones in the future,” he rolled his eyes, before returning my tongue gesture by poking out his own.

I smiled to myself as I watched him silently. Even at this time at night - or was it morning by now - he looked good. I wished I could see him like this every night and not feel like I was stealing glances at him.

“So what about you?” Jameson asked suddenly.

“What about me?” I chuckled.

“Well I don’t know much about you,” he clarified.

“You know my name,” I shrugged, searching for more information about myself, “I’m seventeen, Avery is my best friend, my dad’s dead, I like hot chocolate but I also like coffee, I find the rain relaxing, I used to play chess a lot, I like to read novels, I don’t like sleeping but I do all at the same time… now what about you?”

“What about me?” he tilted his head to the side, copying what is aid moments ago

“I gave you my information now you give me yours.”

“Jameson Winchester Hawthorne, I’m eighteen,” he began, “my best friends are my brothers, I don’t know my dad at all, my grandfather liked to give me games, I like hot chocolate and coffee, I prefer the snow to the rain, I have played chess since I could talk, I like to read too and I love sleeping but I don’t do enough of it.”

He’s countered all off my points and mirrored them with his own. It was interesting to compare us. We were similar but so different. I was about to reply but he cut me off.

“Woah!”

“What?” I asked.

“The milk!” He yelled, worry outlining his features.

I spun around to see the saucepan emitting in a thick blanket of steam.

“Why is it smoking? Can milk even smoke?” he shouted.

“It’s steam!” I rolled my eyes.

“Can milk even steam then?” he quipped.

“It’s a boiling liquid of course it can steam!” I exclaimed, for someone so smart, I did wonder how he was acting so stupidly.

“What do I do?” he panicked, the stress evident.

“Take it off the heat!” I cried out. I’d thought that was logical but no. Apparently it was not.

“Oh shit, yeah,” he said, almost laughing

He took the pan off of the heat and the steam began to die down. We made eye contact and started laughing like mad people, until our lungs couldn’t take it anymore and we had to get our breaths back, our bellies aching. We just seemed to fit, me and him. It was like we were the two missing pieces of a jigsaw that have been lost between the sofa cushions for years and now we’d finally been found and put together to complete the puzzle.

The milk turned out pretty much okay and we prepared the drinks a lot easier than we’d heated them. Jameson added every topping going excessively, which made me shake my head and laugh. When we were both done I took a sip, the warm liquid seeping through my body to the tips of my toes, making me feel a little less cold. It was delicious.

“Verdict boss?”

“S’alright,” I shrugged, “I’m kidding, it’s really lovely actually.”

“I agree,” he nodded, “maybe I should smoke my the milk more often.”

I laughed, “you didn’t smoke the milk, it just got a bit steamy.”

“Steamy,” he wiggled his eyebrows

“You really do have the brain of a five year old,” I sighed inwardly.

“Hey! I thought we already established that and moved on,” he said.

“I felt like we needed the conversation to resurface but we’ll put it to bed,” I sighed, then with a mischievous look on my face added, “for now.”

He grinned at me, taking another swig of his hot chocolate, this time getting whipped cream on his nose. I subtly rubbed my nose, hoping he’d mirror my body language or take the hint. He did. Silence hit us like a bus would hit an animal running across the road in the dead of night. Quickly. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable but nor was it comfortable. It just was. The only sound was the occasional sip of our hot chocolates.

After a while, I became aware that he was looking at me, actually it was more like staring. It was an analytical look in his eyes, like I was some sort of science experiment rather than a person.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I asked, trying not to squirm as he held his gaze.

“You’re a lot like Avery you know,” he replied thoughtfully.

The comment caught me off guard and I couldn’t work out why. It wasn’t exactly an insult but it hit me like one. Why was Avery on his mind? And why was she on his mind whilst he was looking at me?

“Our brains work in similar ways,” I hummed, “I think that’s why we’re so close.”

“I noticed that,” he nodded, “but I also noticed you’re quite different at the very same time.”

The same and different? Being cryptic, I’ve decided, is a Hawthorne personality trait.

“How so?” I said.

“There’s something about you that is…” he paused to find the right word, “bolder.”

Bold? Really? That was one of last words I would have described myself with.

“You’ve only known me for a day,” I scoffed, “and you haven’t exactly known Avery for that long either.”

“I know,” he replied, “but you’ll find I’m very observant.”

It was only then I noticed his smile. It was the same smile Nash had on his face when he looked a Libby. And I hated to admit it but he look beautiful. His eyes illuminated, sparkling, bright. He looked genuinely happy. It made my heart melt a little, I wanted to see that smile every day. There was only major problem. I didn’t know if he was smiling at the thought of me or the thought of Avery. He could have easily be thinking about either of us and I didn’t want to get the wrong idea.

“You think Avery’s some sort of riddle,” I stated, trying not to let the bitterness seep through my tone.

“And you don’t like that?” he observed, an eyebrow raised.

“Any person who values another as just another game doesn’t get my greatest sympathies, no,” I told him blatantly.

“And what if she is?” he challenged, defensive.

“Is that all she is to you? Just a game?” I asked, getting angrier by the second, “what happens when the game ends Hawthorne, ask yourself that.”

“Then the game ends,” he shrugged, nonchalant as ever, “there’s not much more to say.”

“So she becomes nothing if not a tool for your own wants and needs?” I asked, stating it as bluntly as a pencil that barely writes.

“I didn’t say that,” Jameson insisted, a mixture of feelings betraying the usual mask he hid behind.

“You’re implying it,” I hissed, my eyes overcast, darkened.

He didn’t deny it and that gave me the only answer I needed.

“Now I don’t know you very well, but from what I have to go off of, I didn’t pin you as someone who was selfish,” I told him, raw passion in my voice, “a little bit cocky and far too brave, sure, but not selfish,” I snapped, my tone sharper, “but you’re acting like it and it’s not fair.”

He didn’t reply. Instead he morphed into some sort of stone statue, unmoving, unemotional, unwavering. I felt like a mother scolding her reluctant child.

“And did you even consider how hard this has been for her?” I questioned him, “coming here, to this labyrinth of a house, her life now dictated by a will, forever changed. She’ll never be able to walk the streets again like a normal person without paparazzi bombarding her. She’s just about adjusting to living here, one of your brothers seems like he wants to kill her, you treat her as if she’s a game and she’s being bombarded by the media, I mean the poor girl doesn’t even know why she’s here. She didn’t ask for this and I don’t want her to have to put up with your ‘I’m a Hawthorne so I’m going to use you because I’m entitled’ shit.”

Again, I got no response. For someone so witty and poetic with his words it was odd that now he chose to be silent. He stood still and said nothing. I wanted to shake him until he made a sound but instead I chose to be diplomatic, I chose to carry on.

“You can’t think of her like that, it’s not fair. Not for her or for yourself,” I said, “if you go by your whole life thinking everyone and everything is a game you’re going to lose people, fast.”

“You sound experienced,” he finally said, not replying to a word of my rant just picking out who he thought I was.

“Yeah well maybe I am,” I laughed bitterly.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I didn’t realise what it might feel like from her perspective of things. I’m used to being in my grandfather’s world, a world full of games and tricks and puzzles.”

“People aren’t puzzles,” I snapped.

“I disagree with you there,” he said, “people shouldn’t be treated like puzzles but every person is a puzzle.”

“Am I a puzzle to you Jameson?” I challenged, taking a step towards him.

“You’re one of the most intriguing ones yet,” he whispered, moving closer to me.

“Funny, I think I could say the same about you,” I murmured.

My face was inches from his, close enough to see his beauty up close. It was even more breathtaking. He looked down at me, his eyes so tentative, so gentle. We moved closer into each other, like a magnetic force was reeling us in, we had no control. It felt natural, it felt right. Our lips were about to brush…

He cleared his throat and pulled away quickly. My face grew very flushed as my eyes darted to the nearest corner of the room I could focus on.

“Still not tired?” he asks after a few beats of silence.

“Not in the slightest,” I replied, our eyes connecting once again. The soft rolling fields of hypnotic emeralds once again speeding up my heart rate.

“Good because neither am I,” he smirked, “say, have you ever played strip bowling?”

Now this could get interesting.

a/n: again, I’m really sorry for how long this took me to write and I realise it’s not my most amazing work, so sorry 😔😔 I really wanted to portray a strong friendship with Avery as well as interest in Jameson but idk if that was achieved. anyways hope this was okay, thanks for reading <3

TIG masterlist

[mcuamerica]

The Shadowsinger: Seventeen

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. angst, Az is a bit of an asshole in this, mentions of parental abuse, mentions of death/grieving, fluff, canon level violence, ACOTAR series spoilers. If I forgot anything, please let me know!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: You join the IC in their visit to Hewn City.

Disclaimer: I do not own SJM’s characters or plot lines, only the ones I create for the purpose of this story. This is a work of fiction. I do not give permission to repost my work on any other platform or medium. Please be respectful.

My graphics are my own. If you wish to use them, please give credit!

Series Masterlist

Twelve - Thirteen - Fourteen - Fifteen - Sixteen

“Rhys wants you to join us at the Court of Nightmares.” Azriel said the next day during your breakfast. 

You looked up from your meal, glancing around at the Illyrians sitting around you. “You’re going to the Court of Nightmares?” You asked. 

“Yes… unfortunately. We’ll need to call in the Darkbringers soon… and we need something for the Queens.” He said. 

“Why does Rhys want me there?” You asked, moving around your food. The thought of going to the Court of Nightmares didn’t sit well with you. You might be able to handle the Illyrians… but the residents of Hewn City were different. You remember being stuck Under the Mountain, fashioned after the city. Your thoughts drifted to the horrors you went through there. If Under the Mountain was fashioned after it… 

Azriel rested a hand on your knee, low enough under the table the other Illyrians couldn’t see. He and the shadows sensed the direction of your thoughts. “Because you’re part of the Inner Circle now.” He said. “And you’re one of us. We would never let anything happen to you.” 

Your eyes shifted to his hand, the gentle squeeze he gave you grounding you back to reality. “I’m part of the Inner Circle?” You asked. 

“I’m pretty sure Rhys thinks of you as his sister, so yes.” He said, pursing his lips to hide his smile. 

“And what do you think of me as…” You asked, leaning closer to him. To hell with what the Illyrians thought. You were falling hard for the male next to you and if that made you weak… then so be it. 

Azriel studied your eyes, the smile finally slipping from his lips. “So much more.” He whispered, then leaned back. “Finish your meal. I have a surprise for you.” He said and stood up, squeezing your shoulder. “Meet me at the Far East training ring in ten minutes.” He said before walking out of the mess hall. 

You took a deep breath, shaking the thought of him from your mind as you finished your meal. In five minutes, you appeared at the training ring, seeing a smaller version of the qualifying course set up. “This is where the males practice before they officially try the course.” Azriel said. “Five laps for warm up, stretches, and then you’ll run this until you finish in under ten minutes.” He said. 

You bit your lips. “Powers at all?” You asked and he shook his head. “Only training weapons.” He said, nodding to the weapons rack. 

“When did you set this up?” You asked and started stretching out your arms and legs for the day. A flash of his head between your legs went through your mind and you turned away, studying the course. You couldn’t be distracted. 

“When you were still sleeping this morning.” He answered. 

He made you run the course all day, only breaking for lunch. By the end of it, you had finished it in 15 minutes. You couldn’t get past the large rock wall that was set up. How in the Cauldron Azriel dragged that over here, you couldn’t figure it out. Unless Rhys came over and transported it with his magic. 

You were sore and exhausted by the time night fall came, just in time for Rhys to walk into the cabin. Azriel looked up from where he was rubbing your shoulders. Your felt heat rise to your face, hoping Rhys wouldn’t say anything. Friends could give each other massages… 

“I see you two are on speaking terms now.” Rhys said and leaned against the table next to the door. “Did Azriel tell you about Hewn City?” He asked. 

You shifted and faced him, Azriel’s hands falling from your shoulders. His shadows came and swirled around your back instead, the cool sensations relaxing you further. “Yes… I’ll go.” You said. “He also told me you had Feyre go to the Weaver’s Cottage to retrieve a ring? Please don’t tell me you plan on proposing to her with it.” 

Rhys only smirked in response. “How’s training? You’re using your Siphon properly? Don’t need two?” He asked. 

You shook your head. “As powerful as I am, one training Siphon is enough. I can’t imagine what it was like when you and Cass were trying to use them.” You said, turning to face Azriel. 

Azriel shrugged, putting on that cool mask he wore almost all the time. “Anyway, I’m doing fine. When do we go to Hewn City?” You asked. 

“Tomorrow… you’ll be there so I can introduce you as the emissary to the Illyrians. It may come in handy when we’re in battle with the Darkbringers.” Rhys said. 

You hummed and took a shaky breath. “I don’t have anything to wear.” You said. You remembered what they wore in Hewn City and you definitely didn’t have anything close to their fashion. You weren’t sure you even wanted to wear that. If you were being shown as an emissary, you would need to be dressed as one of his court, not a warrior like Az or Cassian. 

“Amren will find you something… it might be revealing.” He said, looking at you for a few moments. You simply shrugged, knowing exactly what he meant. 

“I can handle it.” You said and smiled. “You want me back at the House tonight, I assume?” You asked. 

“Only if you want to come.” He said and you nodded, looking at Azriel as he stood up and held out a scarred hand. You took it and stood up slowly. “This one here had me running all day…” you said and nudged Azriel’s shoulder. Your wings were even sore. He refused to let you use them in the course. 

Rhys chuckled and held out a hand for both of you, quickly winnowing you above the house. You all glided into the balcony and you grabbed Azriel’s bicep to steady yourself. 

Amren did find a dress for you to wear. Well… dress was a strong word for the fabric. It had a tight fitting bodice, only covering your breasts, abdomen, and your underside, thankfully covering your rear. Other than that, it was completely sheer black material, with swirling designs that complimented your shadows. Mor helped you curl your hair and put some kohl on your eyelids. You knew it wasn’t as much as most of Hewn City, but you would fit in well enough. You were representing Rhysand’s Court. And you would do as good of a job as you could. 

You were glad to see Feyre, and she actually pulled you in for a hug. She had filled in all of her curves, you could tell she was sleeping better. She told you about her trip to the Weaver’s Cottage. And that she went to the Bone Carver in the Prison. Az hadn’t mentioned that. 

“Training with Cassian going well?” You asked as you slipped on the heels Mor gave to you. Her outfit for the Court was much more revealing than yours, but you knew she was playing a certain part. You may not agree with it, but you knew Rhys had a plan. You knew Feyre was meant to play a part while they went to get the Orb to show to the Queens. You were glad Rhys didn’t ask you to join them in the Mortal Lands.

“He really doesn’t let up.” Feyre said and you laughed. 

“You should try training with Az… he’s even worse. But I’ve heard Mor is the worst.” You said and smiled, standing up. “You need anything in Hewn City today… you let me know.” You said and squeezed her shoulder. 

She nodded and gave you a small smile. You went down to the living room and waited for the boys to come down. Instead, you saw Azriel step out from the shadows, staring intently at you. You were very aware of the lack of clothes. It was much different than your leathers. 

You couldn’t help but shift under his gaze, watching as he slowly stalked over to you. “You look… perfect.” He said, stopping so close to you that you had to look up. 

“Perfect for Hewn City or just perfect?” You asked, eyes wide as you stared into his own. 

“Both.” He rasped. 

You weren’t sure you could stand next to him this entire night if he was staring at you like that the whole time. Luckily he would slip in between the shadows to grab the Orb while you stayed with Cassian. You were also to be there as another distraction, similar to Feyre, but to serve as another female in the court. With you, hopefully they wouldn’t notice Az.

“I have a mission for you,” Rhys chipped in. He most definitely was in your mind. 

“Yes?” You asked, turning towards your High Lord. 

“I’m introducing Feyre and you… but Feyre has a different kind of job. Your job tonight is to show you are one of my warriors as well… so if anyone gets out of line… I’m going to give you permission to test out your new Siphon on them.” He said. 

Your eyes widened slightly. “You- you want me to hurt someone?” You asked. 

“You will have to do it eventually…” Rhys said. 

“They’ll deserve it.” Azriel said and you glanced towards him. 

“So I get to be your guard dog? A lackey?” You asked. “No… Rhys no. I was Amarantha’s Shadowsinger for too long. I- I can’t take orders… not like that. Not to hurt someone.” You said and shook his head. He always gave you a choice. He wouldn’t make you do it if you didn’t want to. 

“You can’t seriously think that someone in the Court of Nightmares is as innocent as the ones you hurt under her.” Azriel spoke up. It struck something in you. What did he know of the people you hurt… killed for her? Did he understand that at some point, you enjoyed it? When you were slowly torturing Illyrians that turned their backs on the Night Court, on their own families? Like that one male had done to you? Did he know that Amarantha made you stand and watch as she killed hundreds of children in the Winter Court? That you were the one to help the daemati slip in between the shadows? He didn’t know any of it. He couldn’t possibly understand.

You turned towards him, narrowing your eyes. “I will not be someone’s lackey. I will not hurt someone under another’s orders.” 

“Rhys is your High Lord. You will have to do it eventually.” He said. “What happens when someone threatens him? Or Feyre? Will you just stand by?” 

“That’s different.” You growled out. How could he expect you to just.. follow Rhys blindly. What if he asked you to harm someone that you didn’t want to hurt. What if he thought they were guilty when they weren’t? You trusted Rhys with your life. And he’s never led you wrong before. But that doesn’t mean you’ll follow him to no end. 

“Is it?” 

“I don’t take orders to harm others anymore.” You said firmly. 

“Some Illyrian you’re going to be…” He growled. 

Your heart dropped, looking at him for a moment. “What’s your problem?” You asked, narrowing your eyes. It was like all the progress you made these past two months went out the window. 

“Ready?” Feyre called from the stairs. You all turned towards her. You could smell the arousal that came from Rhys and you shoved him to the side. 

“Let’s go.” You ground out, watching as Mor and Cassian came down. The simmering rage that subsided these past few weeks was about to boil over. You took Mor’s hand, staying away from Azriel. Your skin was crawling at what he said. Some Illyrian… as if you can’t be a strong Illyrian and have your own principles. 

Mor glanced between the two of you and winnowed you to the Moonstone Palace atop Hewn City. 

Soon enough, you were waiting before the throne room with the rest of them. Rhys wanted to make a certain entrance. 

“Don’t be upset with him. Trips to Hewn City puts everyone on edge.” Rhys said in your mind. 

You glanced over to him and didn’t answer, but let the irritation show on your face. When he didn’t say anything, you shifted. “You’re my High Lord, I have to protect you.” You snapped back to him, still sensing him in your mind.  

“I’m your brother,” he said and you looked over to him. “By bond. Like Az and Cass are my brothers. You’re my sister. And you have no obligation to defend me if I don’t deserve it.” 

You looked at him for a few moments, frowning slightly. Flashes of Oran ran through your thoughts. He was your brother by bond… and he was dead. You couldn’t save him. What made you think you could save Rhysand, the most powerful High Lord you’ve ever heard of. But Rhys deserved you defending him. He’s given you a new life and you owed him everything. More than everything. 

“I’ll speak with you mind to mind if something happens. You tell me if you want to handle it or not.” He said, most likely seeing the same thing. You nodded to him as you watched the doors open. 

Once Rhys was seated with Feyre on his lap, Az disappeared to go get the Orb and you waited with Cassian. Your wings were stretched out as much as his, and your official Siphon was displayed on your left hand. It was a dark purple, your killing power swirling inside of it. Your shadows swirled around you, as if protecting you from the eyes of the people. You almost wished you were in ironclad armor like Cassian was. It would make you look a lot less like a side piece and more like the warrior Rhys wanted you to seem. Why did he have you dress like this when he also wanted you to be his warrior? You know it was for distraction, but you wondered if it would’ve caused too much uproar to have a female here in armor. 

You stood next to Rhys and Feyre once they got up. You heard what Keir said to Feyre: you’ll get what’s coming to you, whore. 

At that moment, Rhys asked you mind-to-mind to restrain Keir. You didn’t need another moment to think about it. Maybe it was Hewn City indeed putting you on edge. But you knew it was to protect Feyre. She was your friend. She saved you. And you wouldn’t let someone like Keir get away with calling her a whore. 

You put out your hand, your power swirling around him until he was on his knees. Your shadows did the rest and held his hands behind him. You might have instructed them to go just a little tighter than necessary. He wasn’t getting out but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t inflict a little pain. Did he not understand that Feyre was the one who saved all of you?

Rhys ordered Keir to apologize, and when he didn’t, he began breaking bones. You were happy to watch. Mor told you what he did to her. And insulting Feyre… you would’ve gladly broken his bones. But this was Rhys’s right. This was his mate he was defending. 

You saw Feyre sink closer to Azriel and Cassian while you kept Keir restrained. You let go, watching as he fell to the ground. 

You walked over to Az, Cass, and Mor. You took Mor’s hand, letting her winnow you and Cassian back to the House. 

You changed into your fighting leathers quickly, not wanting to stay in the dress much longer. You didn’t want to even think about Azriel coming to see you in your bedroom. In that dress. Especially after what he said to you. 

You needed to let off some steam, especially after seeing the Court of Nightmares. So much of it reminded you of Under the Mountain. It was much worse, but the memories it dragged up… you couldn’t just go to sleep. 

You ran a few laps around the ring, then started using the weights to do warm ups. As you worked, your thoughts drifted to your family in Valorworth, how your father used to beat you. How you were never good enough for him. You thought of Sirona and Igna, how you knew they would have protected Oran that final night when the fire roared through the camp. You eventually picked up a training sword, letting out all your thoughts into the wooden post. 

Your shadows told you that Azriel was in the stairwell before you heard his feet. The fact that you heard him made you aware that he wanted you to know he was there. “What?” You asked, striking the post with your training sword again. 

“Are you okay?” He asked. 

“I don’t know. Would a real Illyrian be okay after that?” You ground out, dropping your sword to the ground as you looked over to him. “Because I clearly am not. I guess you were right. I’m not a real Illyrian. I have emotions and principles and I won’t just blindly kill and hurt if it isn’t right.” You said, stalking over to him. “I won’t allow another high powered person to tell me to kill. To force me to tell them secrets. And I certainly won’t let anyone else let me feel smaller because of it.” You said, stopping not even a foot away from him. Your chests were almost touching. 

“Sounds like a real Illyrian to me.” He said and you pushed him back. His eyes widened and you clenched your fists. 

“I’m glad that you think so. Because I don’t care.” You did care. A lot. “Because your opinion means nothing to me.” It did. “Not when you insult me for standing up for myself.” That was true. 

“I-“

“No, you don’t get to talk. You don’t get to apologize. You doubted me.” You said, arms dropping to your sides. “You didn’t think that I would defend Rhys. Feyre. You- Do you have such little faith in me?” You asked. You failed your family before. You weren’t going to let it happen again. 

Azriel stayed silent, only walking over to you slowly. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I won’t justify what I said. I have some issues I clearly need to work out… but (Y/N)….” He tilted your head up. Tears were welling in your eyes. Why did his opinion mean so much to you? Why were you so frustrated? “You are the strongest female I know. And I have all the faith in the world in you. You’d go to any end to protect your family. To protect us…” he said, wiping away a stray tear. 

“I couldn’t protect them.” You whispered, your throat catching. 

“You did everything you could.” He replied, knowing exactly who you were talking about. You fell apart, a sob releasing as you cried into his chest. His arms wrapped around you, both of your shadows swirling to comfort you as well. He repeated himself, rubbing your back just under your wings as you cried. You couldn’t save your mother. You couldn’t save Sirona, Igna, or Oran. And the one person you thought would understand that doubted you today. If anything, you thought Azriel would understand that you didn’t want to keep doing the dirty work of a High Lord. Even if it was Rhys. 

Azriel promised himself to never doubt you again. He knew you would do whatever you could to keep them safe. Above all else, he knew that you would have more trouble forgiving yourself than you would anyone else. But Azriel would always be there to pick you back up, and put you back together.

A/N: Moving the story along...

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[abeautylives]

Times I Remember Well

(and Some That I Don’t)

Part 1

author’s note: I’m really excited to have something to share with you guys. It’s written from a diff POV than I usually do, but my main character girly pop has a lot of personality 😘 Big big big thank you to bff @samkiszkasfacialhair for all the help, the ideas, and the motivation 🤍

pairing: female!OCxkiszkas (just read it, you’ll figure it out)

time frame: 2010-2014

word count: 5.7k this part

warnings: language, illicit substance use, rampant teenage emotions and delulu, kissing, josh 🥺

I don’t actually remember the day I met Sam Kiszka.

Not the date, or even the day of the week. I do know what year it was, because it was the year my mom moved us to this quaint (read: weird) little town. Charming, but weird. And boring.

Boring, until I met Sam.

Eleven-year-old Sam was a menace, but twelve-year-old me was bored. So obviously, we became the best of friends. He taught me how to light a firecracker, I had an endless supply of Barbies to blow up. He showed me how to slip out of my bedroom window without making a sound, I told him how to impress girls without grossing them out. In our early teenage years, he introduced me to drugs and I taught him how to unclasp a bra. Chill out, it was weed, and I wasn’t even wearing the bra.

My mom just loved that I’d made such a great friend.

The first time I was allowed to play at his house I met his sister, who was closer to my age, but it was too late. Sam and I were already attached at the hip, though mine sat an inch or two higher than his for a couple of years, until a growth spurt and puberty eventually left him with the height advantage.

That was when he stopped calling me by my name, and started calling me Tiny. Like I said, a menace.

“You’re the coolest girl I know, even if you’re vertically challenged.”

Please note: the first time he said this to me, he had finally just surpassed me in height by half an inch.

Then of course, there were the twins. You’d think the eldest siblings would not have become a big part of my life, but they were just always around, and actually liked hanging out with their baby brother. Close knit family and all that. It’s weird, right? At the wise and worldly age of twelve, the two fourteen-year-olds terrified me. Josh and Jake were both scary in their own way to a pubescent girl on the cusp of teenager-dom. Jake was pretty quiet, but his ego was not. He was hot, okay? In like, a Justin Bieber-y way but also kind of a jock-y way, but a jock with a guitar. Whatever, I’m only human.

Josh was… well, Josh was Josh. Unlike anyone else I’d ever met, and not necessarily in a good way. He was loud, like, all the time. He never seemed to stop talking and ended most of his sentences at an eardrum-piercing decibel level. Fortunately, or not, he didn’t get hot until I was old enough to obsess over it.

I’m sure I didn’t speak a coherent word to either of them the entire first year of my friendship with Sam.

I have a million memories of the time I spent with Sam and his family, but I have no recollection of the day I fell in love with Josh Kiszka.

But once I did, it was a deep, obsessive kind of love that only a teenager can achieve. One day he was my best friend’s eccentric older brother and the next…

Well, the next he was a rockstar.

I mentioned the whole jock with a guitar thing that Jake had going on, and that really hadn’t changed, but somewhere along the way Josh had transformed from a loud, annoying theater kid to a genuine, full blown vocalist. I mean, for a while he was both.

When they first started playing together, I only gave a shit because they’d roped Sam into it too and it took up way too much of his time. I’d watch them play, and they weren’t… bad? They weren’t good either. My time could have been better spent watching R rated movies (scandalous) or, I don’t know, doing my homework. But nope! We were in a band now.

They practiced, a lot. It felt like all they did was practice, for at least a couple years. And I just watched dutifully, every weekend of every month of every year. They did get better.

But here’s the thing. I was there for all of it. I was there the day Jake ran into the living room and snatched Sam up by the back of his shirt. Come on Sammy boy, we need you on bass. I was there the day their buddy Kyle sat down at the drum kit and completed the ensemble. (I was also there the day he got replaced.) And of course, I was there the day Josh pushed his voice past the instruments and the amps, and went from a weak imitation of a rock singer to something else all together. Something totally and completely him.

That’s not the day I fell in love with him (I would’ve remembered), but it was the first time he had ever… impressed me. And not that I cared, but Jake was impressed too. I saw it on his face.

It was cute. In like, a sweet, brotherly way.

Okay, anyway! The combination of Jake’s skill and Josh’s raw talent got them noticed. (Sammy’s talent would develop over time, I didn’t forget about him. Sam, you’re the most talented one in the band.) And then they were playing actual gigs. I wasn’t allowed to go to most of those early ones, because for some reason these dive bars were permitting these pint sized, teenage Zeppelin wannabes to perform at them. Old people like our parents loved that shit. The locals went crazy for it.

They played Fischer Hall a couple times, right there in town, but around their third or fourth gig there, Josh had unbuttoned the flowy, floral, women’s blouse he was wearing and took to the stage with it hanging open, beaded necklaces draped down his bare chest and curly hair wild.

Why was he sort of… ripped? How had I never noticed? Were his pants always so tight? And low cut? I was sweating. I didn’t even know he was literally cosplaying Robert Plant.

Did I fall in love with him that night? Of course not, I already told you I don’t remember the day that happened.

The Saturday after my sixteenth birthday, I left my house around 8:30 to head to Sam’s. To my mom, this was an average Saturday night - I spent nearly all of them at Sam’s house, where his parents were always home. Ya know, or so mine thought. Whether the Kiszkas were actually home or not, we hung out in the garage.

That’s not as weird as it sounds, it was a really cool garage. With furniture and everything. And their instruments, a lot of them. I don’t know how every one of these guys knew how to play every instrument packed into that room, but they did. And by the time I was sixteen, they were really almost good at it.

(Jake was good. Very good… I told you he was hot.)

This particular Saturday though, this was going to be the Saturday that changed my life. And I wanted to dress the part.

In hindsight, I wore something I’d probably worn a hundred times. Then why had it taken me so long to get ready? I changed my jeans twice, my shirt at least ten times, added a sweater, threw it back on my bed, added a flannel, tossed that to the floor. Picked it back up and shoved my arms in, made sure it hung off my shoulder just so. Shoulders are sexy, right? Do guys like shoulders? Oh shit, what do guys even like?

Anyway, I left the house looking exactly as I always did.

I rode my bike slowly that night, already hyper aware of the sweat under my arms.

So I slowed my pedaling even further. When the house came into view, I hopped off the bike and walked it up the drive before tossing it to the grass outside the garage.

Okay, knock twice and just go in.

That’s what everyone always did, what I always did. Just knock twice then lift the door. Everyone was always welcome, come on in!

So go in, idiot.

Look, I did it eventually. Just like always, knock knock, lift the door enough to slip underneath, let it close behind me. Except when it rolled back to the ground, I lost my nerve and stood frozen there for a few seconds too long.

Sam called me out, because he’s a menace.

“The hell are you doing, Tiny? We started without you.”

I moved farther into the space, eyes bouncing between my options through the soft haze of pungent smoke that already hung over the room. There was my usual spot - on the floor, next to the spot where Sam sat cross-legged, his long frame folded and bent, his sharp elbows resting on his knees as he waited for the joint to make its way back to him.

Not tonight, I’m on a mission.

Jake sat to his left, in a well-worn, floral print wingback chair. It was comfortable enough for one person, decades of weight softening the strength of the cushion’s springs before it ever came to live in this particular garage. Jake’s body was slung over it, legs thrown haphazardly over an arm while his own were wrapped around an acoustic guitar. Typical. He tipped his chin at me from under the brim of a bucket hat, then nodded towards the floor beside him. Holy shit, does he want me to sit by him?! I think my fingers lifted in a barely-there wave but I’m not really sure they were functioning correctly.

Okay focus, he did not. Does not. Not in this lifetime.

Still without his next hit, Sam glanced up at me over his shoulder and patted the threadbare throw rug next to him. “Sit down weirdo, you’re making me paranoid.”

Nerves that I’d never, never, felt before in this room fluttered through my stomach, I let my gaze meet Sam’s before continuing the search for a place to plant myself.

There was really only one option left - the couch - and both ends were already occupied. Our friend Danny (Kyle’s replacement, sorry Kyle) was in the process of melting into the corner closest to Jake, his eyes glassy and already tinged pink when he looked up at me. Only his eyebrows lifted in greeting before he mirrored Sam’s offer to sit next to him, tapping the cushion beside him.

This is fine, totally normal! Danny was Sam’s other half. Well, his other male half. I guess we were in thirds. A trio.

I accepted the offering, stepping around the coffee table, scarred with years worth of “art” - drawings and carvings, a few discreet dirty words etched into the surface in between - to drop to the middle of the couch. One of Sam’s brows tipped up when I met his eyes again, his expression asking, “Dude, what gives?”

“Hey, you’re here!” He noticed me, finally. Silvery smoke crept from between his lips as he grinned, and I watched transfixed when they pursed together and he blew a cloud toward the ceiling. My stare was broken when he leaned across the table and passed the joint to an impatient Sam, but to the delight of the butterflies going nuts in the pit of my stomach, he leaned back into the cushions and threw an arm over the back of the couch behind me. EEEEP!

“Hey-“ It was a humiliating and unsexy croak, and I quickly cleared my throat and tried again. “Hey, Josh. Hi.”

His long hair was pulled back, his entire face available for my viewing pleasure. Things were going perfectly.

I joined the rotation, the weed easing the flutters caused by sitting so close to Josh, but amplifying the feeling that the other three were watching and wondering why I was acting so strange.

They were not. They were high.

Aside from the stray curious eyebrow from my BFF across the table, they actually acted like nothing was abnormal about my seating choice, even when I started to scooch imperceptibly to my left every time I adjusted the way I was sitting.

Pulled my legs up under me? Scooch.

Dropped them down so my sneakers met the cement? Scooch.

Crossed my left ankle over my right knee? Scooch.

It was totally subtle.

“I’m gonna grab a pop, you guys want anything?” Sam startled me out of a pleasant reverie as he jumped up from the floor, but my freaking knee was touching Josh’s knee! No I don’t want anything, I have everything I need right here!

It turned out Sam was a huge knee blocker. He gripped me by an elbow and peeled me from the couch as the others murmured at our retreating backs about needing Doritos. He pushed me out the side door and towards the house and had me in the kitchen before I could even tell him he was ruining everything!

Even through bleary, hooded eyes, his death glare was brutal.

“Saaammmmm, what are you doing?!” “What the hell do you think you’re doing, T?”

More glaring. He broke the glare-off first, jerking his head to the side to flick his hair out of his eyes and turning to open the refrigerator, but once his face was inside it, he called me out again.

“Why are you being so weird with Josh?”

I love him, I need him!

“Whaaa.. I don’t know what you mean. You’re just super high.” Yeah, I really thought that would work. Sue me!

Straightening to his full height (seriously, like two inches taller than me… maybe three), he spun to face me again. He actually looked down his nose at me.

“Do you like, like him? What the fuck, Tiny?” He whispered that last part, as if his parents were lurking around the corner waiting to bust him for cussing.

“Look, you wouldn’t understand Sam. I’m much older than y-“

“You’re not even an entire year older than me.”

“Eleven months is basically an entire ye-“

“That’s not the point!” That part was like whisper yelling. I swear it looked like he was yelling, but it sounded like he was whispering.

“Okay!” Yeah, I whisper yelled back. “Sammy, I like him… I’m sorry! I don’t even know when it happened but I woke up one day and I realized that he’s perfect! He’s funny and nice and he’s so… so… cute! Okay? He’s so cute I wanna die and I love him!”

Sam’s eyes were wide, as wide as they could be under the circumstances, and he stared at me like I’d grown another head. With a horn coming out of it.

“You love him. You realize how dumb you sound right now?”

Dumb? No no, this was serious. I pleaded with my best friend for forgiveness. And his help. “Sam… please. Don’t be mad at me, I- I don’t know, I can’t help it! That’s just how I feel, and I want him to like me back!” That’s when it hit me, I needed a wingman for this plan.

“Can you help me get him to like me back?” I gave him my best puppy dog eyes, bottom lip stuck out and everything. As if that had ever worked in the four years we’d known each other so far.

“Fuck no.” His eyes moved side to side, looking for sneaky parents again I guessed. “Definitely not. Why do you have to like my brother, dude? That’s sick, it’s like incest or something!” He stomped his feet a little, and I couldn't help but think it made him look like a child. He was a child! This was serious, grown-up shit and I didn’t have time to play games.

“Ugh, if you’re not gonna help me then at least get out of my way.” I pushed past him and headed back out of the house and into the garage. Not much had changed when I got there, but Danny must have left while Sam and I were gone. The entire couch was empty aside from Josh, still sitting cross-legged in one corner. Damn it!

I flopped into the spot that Danny had vacated, just as Sam hustled back in through the side door, arms full of sodas and bags of chips. My cheeks were warm when I looked up at him, and then they burst into flames.

“Scoot over T, I like the corner spot.”

He’s helping me! Oh shit, he’s helping me. Move your ass!!

Fumbling for a grip on reality, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Sam’s. He lifted his brows and tilted his head in Josh’s direction. I suddenly remembered why I wasted all my days with this kid - he’s my ride or die. And now I owed him, big.

As soon as I stood to shift to the center of the couch, Sam’s elbow snuck out and made contact with my shoulder. My feet tangled with each other and, balance lost, I tumbled. Right into the arms of my beloved.

Okay okay, that’s a reach. But I did land on him. Sam had nudged me just hard enough to send me toward the opposite end of the couch and I landed ass-first on Josh’s leg, still folded and crossed under the other.

Through the mortification, I heard Sam’s distinct snickering as he placed himself gently on the other cushion. Then, through the popping of soda tabs and crinkling of chip bags, I heard the sweetest, most beautiful sound ever.

“If you wanted to sit next to me so bad, you could’ve just done it, T.”

I quite literally had to extract myself from his lap, but Josh just giggled as I clumsily moved off of him. To my extreme delight and disbelief, I didn’t make it too far. He slung an arm over my shoulders and kept me at his side. We are sharing a cushion. ALERT ALERT - OUR THIGHS ARE TOUCHING.

His hand wrapped around the ball of my shoulder and squeezed. Not once, but twice. I felt like I was gonna puke, but I risked turning my head and meeting his eyes. And he. Fucking. Smiled.

“You good, Tiny?” I should’ve laughed. We were the same exact height, I could be calling him tiny. But this wasn’t funny, because he was still smiling at me and he’d lowered his voice to speak directly to me and I felt it all the way to my toes. Somehow I managed to smile back.

“I’m good.” I was soooooo good. Even when Sam shoved a bag of Doritos at me, I was good. Because Josh reached into it and pulled a few out for himself. He reached into my lap! For chips!

Risking a sideways glance at Sam, I found him eyeballing Josh’s hand that was still resting lightly over my shoulder. I gave him my best “holy shit holy shit holy shit” expression, to which he rolled his eyes and shrugged. Before turning my attention back to the love of my life, my gaze drifted past Sam and landed on Jake. Oh, he was still here? Hadn’t noticed.

Except I was noticing. And he didn’t look pleased. He locked in and held eye contact, absolutely scowling. He was pissed. At me?! I must not have hidden my surprise well, because after a few more tense seconds of the longest eye contact we’d ever held, he blinked away and flung the guitar he’d been cradling all night over the arm of the chair.

Look, he didn’t throw it or anything. The stand was right there and the guitar landed safely, if not a little roughly, in its place. But then he tossed the open bag of Lay’s to the table, swung his legs around and stood. He caught my eye again, his hair doing that flippy thing over his eyebrows as he shook his head.

“Whatever. Night, guys.”

Just like that, he was gone. Two down, one to go. GTFO Sam!!

The next hour or so passed in a blur. Sam kept hitting the joint long after Josh and I had turned it down, and by the time he’d deposited the roach in the ashtray he could barely keep his eyes open. I watched his head fall back into the cushion and pounced on my opportunity.

Leaning away from Josh’s loving embrace (shut up, I was in heaven okay?), I slapped Sam’s chest with the back of my hand.

“Sammy… Sam!” He snorted as his head whipped up, swiped a hand over his mouth and looked at me. I was still leaning toward him, my back to Josh, and I spoke to him telepathically. Or with my eyebrows.

Get out of here right now or so help me God.

He answered verbally, like he couldn't even read my mind. “Huh?”

I withheld growling at him like an animal. “Why don’t you go to bed, man? You’re toast.” Go. NOW.

His eyes tried to focus on me, they really did, before he shook his head and tried again. “Shit. Yeah, okay. Are you… do you wanna stay on the couch tonight?”

Yes. This couch. Allll night long.

“Yeah yeah, I will, but I’m not tired yet. I’m just gonna, um, chill here for a little bit longer?” At that, I turned my head and risked a glance at Josh. Thank God I did, because he was already looking at me, and he grinned. EEEEEEEP!

“I’m not tired yet either, we can listen to some music.” I doubted I could hear music at that point, not over the blood rushing in my ears. But then, oh then, he looked up at Sam and said, “I’ll make sure she makes it to bed, I mean, the couch. Downstairs, I’ll make sure she makes it downstairs.”

“Fine, whatever.” See? He’s my ride or die. “See you in the morning, T.” And then he was gone.

We were alone.

HELLO? WE. WERE. ALONE.

Sure, I’d been alone with Josh before. I’d been hanging around his house nearly every day for four years, we’d definitely been left in a room together at some point. But not while his arm was draped loosely over my shoulders, not while our legs were touching, not while my heart was about to beat out of my chest.

But now that we were alone, I had no effing clue what to do. Then Josh stood up. My heart dropped into my stomach, but he walked over to the stacked milk crates that housed a small part of their family’s record collection and crouched to skim through them. He found something he liked and set it on the turntable, the needle bringing the crackling beginnings of a song to life.

When he turned back to face me, I thought for sure he’d sit in that ugly wingback chair. Or at the other end of the couch. Instead, he circled the coffee table and sat on the opposite side of me than he had been all night. And now his other thigh was touching mine!

I’m pretty sure my throat closed up because I had to clear it rather unattractively to speak. “What, uhh, ha, um, who is this?”

Sexy, right?

Didn’t matter, his smile took shape right in front of my eyes and all I could see was the little barely-there gap between his front teeth. I wanted to know what it felt like on my tongue. Would I be able to tell? If I kissed him right now, would I be able to feel that little discrepancy in the perfection of his teeth? I lifted my eyes to meet his and realized he’d spoken, and I’d missed it.

“Sorry, uhh… what?”

His head tilted and his eyes searched my face for… something. “Wilson Pickett. Sammy hasn’t played this for you?”

Sammy? Who is Sammy? Ohhh right, best friend.

“Um, no, I don’t think so. But maybe? There’s always music on, he’s probably played this.”

He just nodded, at first in response to my rambling and then in time with the song. When it ended, he just… looked at me, for what felt like forever but was probably only a few seconds. I was once again hyper aware of my underarms. Sweating. So I slipped the flannel off of my shoulders, keeping my forearms in the sleeves but giving me some airflow to the pits. Josh’s eyes dropped from mine and landed on the now exposed skin. Yes! Guys like shoulders!

The realization slapped me in the face, so I grabbed it and ran. I slid my arms out of the sleeves and tossed the flannel past Josh and onto the chair, thanking God that I’d worn a tank top. He gulped. Like a full-blown gulp.

Omg I’m making him nervous!!

Confidence boosted, I shifted even closer to him, until our bodies were tucked tight against each other. I’d never been this close to him, aside from that one time we’d been crammed in the back seat of his mom’s car with Sam and Jake, their sister sitting pretty in the front seat. But then I had been a scrawny kid, only thirteen (and a half) and he had been a really weird fifteen year old, not yet having grown into his features. I hadn’t wanted any part of his stinky, sweaty, farty body near me and I’d squeezed myself so close to Sam I was practically in his lap.

But on this night? This Saturday after my sixteenth birthday, I was no longer a kid. And he was no longer weird. He was beautiful, and my face was really close to his face. I could feel it when he whispered, his breath actually touched my lips.

“Wha- what are you doing, T?”

He was looking at my lips, waiting for my answer. I licked them because I was freaking parched, but he watched. And I watched him gulp, again! My tongue slipped out and wet my bottom lip a second time.

“Josh?” Whispering is sexy, it’s seductive. I was sure of it. He did it back, just my name - my actual name - lilting at the end in question.

“Do you.. wanna… kiss me?” I leaned over him, placed my left hand on his chest and felt his collar bone under my fingertips through his t-shirt. Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

I saw the panic widen his eyes, then they darted around me, looking at anything but me. It was really so cute how nervous he was. He was eighteen, for Christ sake! And I was making him nervous!

“Kiss me, Josh.” His eyes snapped back to mine, slipped down to my mouth again and then back.

And then. He. Freaking. KISSED. ME.

In a split second that felt like hours, I watched his eyes close and perfect lips pucker. My eyes stayed open at first, I didn’t want to miss this.

Leaning further into him, I settled my lips against his and slid the hand on his chest up the side of his neck (his pulse was out of control, by the way), and then cradled his jaw. My fingertips were in his hair right behind his ear. I pulled his face closer and ramped up the pressure of our lips pushed together.

He put his hands on me. I swear to God, he really did! One reached for my hip and the other came up to rest against my cheek. My eyes fluttered closed and my body took over. Not a coherent thought left in my pretty little head. Especially when our mouths separated, and then he pushed them back together.

With a mind of its own, my other hand came up and gripped his shoulder. Then my leg swung over his lap and I. Was. Straddling. Him.

It wasn’t my fault. My brain had gone haywire, my body moving on instinct. I’d quite literally never done this before. I’d kissed plenty, I even kissed Sam once (barf), but this felt different. This felt mature. Probably a little more mature than I was ready for but like I said, it was not my fault.

A lot of blame fell on Josh, a whole mountain of it, when the hand on my cheek dropped to my other hip and gripped hard, pulled me flush against him. And his lips coerced my mouth open. And the tip of his tongue swept out and touched mine.

Oh, I was in way over my head. But this was Josh, the boy I loved, and he was loving me back!

A sound I’d never made before crept up my throat. Instant embarrassment heated my already toasty cheeks and climbed up my neck, but then. Ohh then. The same freaking sound came from somewhere below me. Josh groaned. Because of me.

My animal brain completely took over. My tongue was already sliding against his, and my hips decided to follow suit. With zero finesse, they rocked into his. Just once.

He broke the kiss and dropped his head back to the cushion.

No no noooooo, you like this! You love it!

I could feel the proof that he loved it. I was sitting on it. I could see it, his chest heaving.

So I leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his throat.

“Stop, T.” His hands fell limp and landed on my thighs. My brain scrambled to catch up. Stop? Go! His fingers spread across the denim on my legs. Go go go!

But then he pushed. I leaned back to see his face, find an explanation, but his eyes were still closed as he pushed me off of his lap. Helped me swing my leg back over. Kept his hands on my thighs until they were planted back on the couch and closed. Firmly. Then they left me, and I felt their absence like a knife to the heart.

“I… wow, okay.” It’s the best I could manage to formulate, but my brain was running in overdrive.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let that happen.” He rubbed his palms, the ones that were just holding me, over his knees then leaned forward and dropped his forehead into them.

Okay, maybe he just thinks we were moving too fast!

“Josh, it’s okay. I want this! We can just kiss, I’ll stay over here and you stay there and-“

It was so quiet, but it stopped my words on my tongue and slammed my lips shut.

“I can’t.”

Okay. Okay. Okay.

It’s because Sam’s my best friend.

It’s because I’m too young.

He thinks I’m still a kid.

Like his kid sister.

Fuck!

Anger rolled through me. “Why? Is it Sam?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face and turned to me. Looked at me, finally.

“No, I-“

“Am I too young for you? You’re not that much older, Josh and we’ve known eachother forever, it’s not that big of a de-“

“It’s not that, Tiny.” His eyes closed again.

“Don’t call me that!” He’d offended me, I was o-ffen-ded. “I’m not a little fucking kid!” Okay, I was pissed! I was a grown ass woman!

(I wasn’t.)

Both of his hands reached forward and he pulled mine towards him. Held them there. Opened his eyes. Was he gonna cry? Why are his eyes wet?! Shit, am I crying?

“It’s not you, T. It’s me.” Oh please. “I- well, I um, I like someone else.”

Back to angry! “What?! Then why the hell were you kissing me?!” What a scoundrel, what a snake, what an asshole!

“It’s not like that-“

“What the fuck is it like?!” I didn’t normally curse much at that age, but when I tell you I was mad? Hurt? Embarrassed? I couldn’t stop it from happening.

Shit, his eyes were definitely wet.

“It’s a guy.”

He whispered it, and it wasn’t sexy, it wasn’t seductive. It was sad. Scared. Defeated. I snatched my hands out of his.

There was a long silence. Uncomfortable. He stared at his empty hands and we processed.

“What did you say?” His posture shrank, like he was trying to disappear. “Josh, it’s okay. Talk to me.” It was my turn to take his hands. I held them in mine and squeezed once.

“I’m so sorry, I- I just don’t like you. Like that.” His eyes found their way back to my face, “I really like him.” They went wide and I’m pretty sure mine did too. He seemed shocked that he’d said it out loud, right before panic spread across his features again.

“Please don’t say anything, T. I haven’t- no one knows that. No one. Please.”

“No, I would never Josh, I swear. I just… why were you, ya know, kissing me?” Touching me, pulling me in. He pulled his hands away from me this time.

“I just wanted to feel normal. I wanted them to think I was normal.”

I couldn’t help it. I threw my arms around him and held on tight.

“You are.” Normal and beautiful and perfect. And not mine. A heavy sigh slipped from between my lips. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He stayed silent, so I did too. I kept my arms around him for a few minutes before finally letting them slip free, rubbing a palm between his shoulder blades.

“I guess I should go… Are you okay?” Look, I was not okay, but it didn’t seem like that was important anymore.

“Aren’t you gonna stay downstairs tonight?”

Definitely not. “No, I think I should go home…” Probably won’t show my face over here for a goooood long time.

“Let me walk with you.”

I did. He walked on the other side of my bike while I walked it by the handlebars. When we reached my driveway, I left the bike propped against the side of the garage and turned to him. And just like in my dreams, he moved close and pecked a kiss into my cheek. Then he pulled me into his arms.

“I’m really sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, ya know?” His voice was soft and low, his breath tickling my ear. It should’ve been a literal dream come true.

A half step back and I rubbed my hands up and down his arms. “It’s really fine. I’m sorry for…” Humiliating us both? “Everything.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I mean it,” he emphasized when I shook my head. “Just… please don’t say anything. Even to Sam. Especially to Sam. I’m gonna tell them all when I’m ready, I think.”

Huge, massive sigh. “I won’t. I promise.”

And I never did. Not really.

[cierraonline]

not gonna lie sometimes i get pissed when i find books like yours and they’re not done cause then i have to wait for the individual chapters instead of binge reading all at once. that being said don’t stop writing i love your work.

at first I thought I was in trouble. plus wheres the emotion and anticipation when you binge read.

No Honey Without Peaches 

chapter two: no honey without peaches 

Masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter 

Three years later

VANITY FAIR INTERVIEW

SALT LAKE, UTHAH

OCTOBER 18 2017

What is your name?

"My name is Storm Siren," the white-haired girl smiled at the camera, revealing her perfectly imperfect pearly whites. She subtly licked her teeth, ensuring there was no trace of her crimson-red lipstick left behind. "It is October 18, 2017."

How old are you?

"I’m thirteen, but almost fourteen. Fun fact—my birthday is on Halloween."

How many Instagram followers do you have?

"Oof," Storm gave the camera a nervous laugh. "Actually, I don’t have social media. I think it's too consuming and makes people compare themselves to strangers. I’d rather not fall victim to that."

How many Google results for 'Storm Siren'?

"2.3 million," she said, glancing at her name on the search engine. "Well, that’s kind of scary."

Most liked photo on Instagram?

"Can I call a friend?" Storm laughed, genuinely clueless since she doesn’t have an account. With a nod from the producers, Storm’s best friend stepped into the frame. "This is my best friend in the whole entire world, Honey…but you might know her as Billie Eilish," Storm introduced her with a smile.

"Her most liked photo is this black-and-white one from the Lovely video shoot behind the scene," Billie said, flipping her phone to show the camera the image.

Who’s the most followed person who follows you?

"If she had Instagram, it would be Chloë Grace Moretz, who actually asked for it, but I had to text her that Storm doesn’t have one," Billie answered, as Storm wrapped her arms around her waist. Billie leaned back, chuckling. "Peaches, you need to get Instagram already."

"I don’t want one," Storm pouted, shaking her head.

"Watch—by next year, she’ll have one," Billie laughed, making her way off-camera.

Who is a famous person in your phone?

"To me, it’s Anna Clyne, an English composer," Storm said, trying to contain her admiration. "But I guess, by pop culture standards, it’d be Khalid. By the way, Khalid, if you’re watching this—you still owe me a pack of sour Skittles."

What’s the largest audience you’ve performed in front of?

"I’d say at The Crocodile in Seattle, about 500 people. It was terrifying—I have terrible stage fright and usually have a complete breakdown before performing. Honestly, I don’t know what I’ll do if this music thing goes further."

How often do you get recognized in public?

"Quite a bit, but it depends on the music scene," Storm paused to think. "For my work with Billie and Finneas, probably once or twice a week, and for composing, maybe three times a week by classical musicians."

What advice would you give yourself a year from now?

"Don’t let something that happened when you were five stop you from living your dream."

Which artist inspires you the most?

"My Peaches, obviously," Storm laughed. "She’s a total bad a-word, even if she doesn’t see the spark in her own voice. I sometimes wish I were more like her, even if she thinks I’m better off. After her, it’d be Tyler, The Creator—his artistry is wild and so creative."

Have you met Tyler?

"Ugh, don’t even ask," Storm pouted, rolling her eyes. "One of my friends who’s currently working with him tried to set it up, but I fell asleep from rehearsal exhaustion. Tyler, I’m sorry!"

Biggest thing to happen in your career?

"Honestly, nothing yet," Storm shrugged. "And that’s okay. I know it’s because I’m not the face of the brand—it’s Billie’s time to shine, and I love watching people see her in the same light as I do. My time will come one day."

How often do you talk to your family?

"Pretty much every second of the day," Storm smiled. "I don’t have that many friends, so my family is my rock. Especially my mom, who’s currently non-verbal; talking to her fills me up with joy, even if she can’t respond."

What’s your favorite movie?

"Easy, Dirty Dancing."

Why is your hair white?

"Yes! I was waiting for you guys to ask so people would stop wondering," Storm straightened up in her seat. "I was born with a mutation that gives me no pigment in my hair, so it’s naturally white. And no, it’s not a wig—I promise. And my white eyes are just contacts...I like the look."

Do you feel pressured?

"No," Storm answered truthfully. "Everything is actually pretty calm right now. It’s nice—a comfortable pace."

Do you have a boyfriend?

"Nope," Storm shook her head. "It’s not my focus right now. But if I’m honest… I think it might not even be a boy—it could be a girl. I don’t have feelings for anyone, so I’ll just see what happens."

What’s your biggest regret?

"My biggest regret was being ashamed of loving classical music and the West Hollywood aesthetic since they’re not popular with my peers. Before I found my small group, kids would tell me I was trying to be 'white' or that I was 'whitewashing' myself. One girl even said I shouldn’t praise those things because Black people weren’t included back then and were often disrespected. I feel like, when people hear ‘classical music’ or ‘Hollywood glamour,’ they only picture white faces instead of seeing the beauty of the era itself. Like, Black people were amazing then too, despite the politics. Just look at Sugar Shack paintings or the singers from the Cotton Club—they went through tough times but had such beautiful energy."

What do you hope to take away from your first tour?

"I hope it reminds me I’m special and that everything will fall into place. I’m usually positive, happy person, but lately… I don’t know, it feels like my spark has dimmed. Maybe touring will bring it back."

What’s the biggest thing you’ve learned?

"It’s okay to be… not okay."

Craziest fan moment?

"These girls showed up dressed exactly like me—white hair, white contacts, preppy outfits, and red lips. It was like that Spider-Man meme where everyone’s pointing at each other!"

Who’s your dream person to perform with?

"Oh, easy! I have it all planned. I’d perform with Lana Del Rey, under a starry sky. We’d sing a song I wrote called 'Young and Beautiful,' with this grand orchestra behind us. And the crowd would be totally silent, just experiencing the moment. It’d be… perfect."

Can you sing a little for us?

"Ah!" Storm let out a small squeak, laughing nervously. "Okay… here goes."

Hot summer nights, mid-July

When you and I were forever wild

The crazy days, city lights

The way you'd play with me like a child

"That’s all you guys are getting."

Country you’d love to visit?

"I would love to go to Berlin. If you’re a classical or orchestra music lover, then you know the biggest venue for classical music is in Berlin—the Berlin Diana Art Hall. It’s three times bigger than Madison Square Garden! For some people, selling out Madison Square Garden is the ultimate dream. For me, it's selling out the Berlin Diana Art Hall. I only want to go to Berlin if I’m performing a sold-out show. If not, I’d rather wait."

Favorite artist at the moment?

"Melanie Martinez. I love the storytelling in her music."

What’s your favorite color right now?

"Dark crimson red. I’m completely fixated on it, and it’s kind of becoming my signature. When I wear it on my lips, it makes me feel powerful and confident."

How do you define your style in three words?

"Beauty… is… death," Storm laughed.

How do you feel about the music industry?

"I’m a little scared of it. Someone once told me the industry preys on the young and talented until they’re dried up and hate what they used to love," Storm shrugged. "I just don’t want that to happen to me. I can’t picture a world where I hate creating music."

What’s your philosophy?

"Stop fearing the unknown and let it drive while you sit in the passenger seat."

What’s the best approach to songwriting?

"Let yourself feel everything. Go through the five senses around a topic, and write it all down."

What do you want to say to yourself in a year?

"Do everything you dreamed of, shawty. Who cares about fitting in? You weren’t born to fit in." 

With that, the questions were over, and Billie dashed back on camera, wrapping her arms around Storm from behind and resting her chin on her friend’s shoulder.

"And older Billie and Storm better still be best friends forever, or I swear, I’ll build a time machine, go to the future, and beat their asses!" Billie said, pointing at the camera.

"What she said… but maybe less violent," Storm smiled. "Like a stern talking-to over fruit snacks… or maybe plant-based chicken nuggets."

"Nope, we’re sticking with ass-kicking," Billie laughed, shaking her head. "Because there’s no Honey without Peaches. We’re best friends forever and ever."

"I see you, Honey," Storm said, reaching up to gently pat Billie’s head.

"I see you, Peaches," Billie replied, holding her even tighter.

taglist @billiesrighthand @bilswildflower @bilsluckyheart @billiesgoodgirll @billsvip @billieshrry @dandelions4us @factsbybriggs @rhearipley-69 @cierraonline @amberg1998 @crystalblue88 @mercurylvd @saffsblog @ihavenoideayimhere @umadirectioner @harajukub4rb1e @sun81rise @jamiemundy7773 @cyberdreamlanddeer @steampunkprincess147 @zendayasredbottoms @efemerous @lady0ftheflowers

[tgmsunmontue]

More than movie magic... 19/24

Hangster AU. Explicit (eventually). Jake is a Hollywood actor and Bradley is a stunt coordinator. Jake's about to make a few self-discoveries. So is Bradley.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT NINE TEN ELEVEN TWELVE THIRTEEN FOURTEEN FIFTEEN SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN EIGHTEEN

Chapter 16 is pretty much the only explicit chapter (so far), so you can skip it if you like, but it's not explicit by my standards, and it's very soft/tender.

NINETEEN

                “Sorry, sorry. Sorry I’m late. Jake’s mom is way more terrifying than you. Hopefully I won’t need more than one shovel talk.”

                Marcia snorts and shakes her head, gestures to where Bob is working and Bradley is grateful that he brought him along with how easily he just seems to know what needs to be done. Man deserves a bonus for this job for sure, picking up Bradley’s slack, uncharacteristic as it is. It’s not a usual situation and he knows Bob will understand that.

                “Also, Marcia, I need to warn you that Pete’s on his way. I apologize in advance for anything and everything he says.”

                “Ugh. It’s fine. Thanks for the warning though. I’ll put him to work and then refuse to put his name in the credits. Serve him right for just turning up and expecting to be welcomed.”

                “You’re the best. Thanks.”

                “Yeah yeah, now get to work and bring us back on schedule hmm?

                “Yes ma’am!” Bradley replies, tipping an imaginary hat. She scoffs and rolls her eyes, makes a shooing gesture with her hands and Bradley grins.

                “Not you too!”

                “It’s rubbing off on me!” Bradley calls back.

                “Rubbing off on something, your boy looks like he got attacked by a cheese grater and then used lemon juice as a moisturizer. You’re going to need to start shaving twice a day,” Natasha mutters, reaching out to whack him on the arm as he walks past. “Maybe consider getting rid of the caterpillar huh?”

                “I happen to like the caterpillar,” Jake interjects, and he looks a little uncertain about interrupting them but Bradley reaches for him, pulls him into a side-hug, leaves his arm around Jake’s waist and feels Jake relax against him. He thinks about Aunty Kaye saying maybe he’ll believe you and he just squeezes a little more, pokes his tongue out at Natasha’s eye roll.

                “You two are gross. Can we get on with doing what we’re meant to be doing?”

                “Sure sure…”

…            …            …

                It’s meant to be all long distance action shots today of them riding and corralling, and Natasha and Rueben are proficient riders, comfortable in their seats even if they don’t quite look born to it. That’s fine, Javy and Callie aren’t playing characters born to it like Jake is.

                “You know, your mom just gave me the most eloquent shovel talk I’ll ever receive.”

                Jake snorts.

                “She was an English and Drama teacher, what were you expecting?”

                “Well, the fact that it was also a pep talk was sort of weird…”

                “What do you mean?”

                “Well, she said she’d do the same to you if she found out if you hurt me. Physically, emotionally or mentally.”

                “What did she threaten you with?” Jake asks, because his mom is not one for violence, not even threatening it. She was always pretty creative with Jake and his siblings growing up, which is almost worse than threatened violence which will never actually eventuate. His mom always believed in only ever threatening things she was fully committed to following through on.

                “Uh. Just a disappointed look? For either of us if we screw it up on purpose?”

                Jake bursts into laughter.

                “Oh god. You don’t know her very well yet, but uh, when she says that, she really means it. It’s not just an in person look. She’ll take a photo of herself, she will then print it, and she will post it to you. She will email it to you. Post it on all her social media accounts. She’ll rent advertising space and put text saying I am disappointed in you with the photo. It’s… it’s horrifying. And I haven’t had her do that to me thankfully, but my sister, oh boy… It stops when you make it right. Or when she thinks you’ve suffered sufficiently.”

                “Well, I’m glad you have her in your corner. And I don’t need her to threaten me to do the best for you, I want to do that anyway.”

                “You a secret romantic there?”

                “No secret about it. I grew up surrounded by love stories.”

                Jake pulls a face, because while there might be plenty of love stories in Hollywood, there are also plenty of affairs and divorces. Bradley seems to pick up on his train of thought.

                “Nothing worth it is easy. I don’t scare easily. Not afraid of hard work. But the love story I was thinking of was my parents. And you have your parents. Those love stories are where we should be looking.”

                Jake blinks, throat a little tight and he nods, because yeah, that kind of love story is something he believes in.

…            …            …

                “Seresin.”

                Jake looks up, and he doesn’t recognize the person addressing him but something about the way he said his name has him straightening up and his stomach flips, because yeah, if he hadn’t known Tom Kazansky was going to be arriving today he wouldn’t have recognized him, but now that he’s looking this man is him. Older and greyer, but still recognizable if you know who you’re looking at.

                “Mr Kazansky, it’s nice to meet you,” Jake says, holding out his hand.

                There’s a brief hesitation before Tom Kazansky is shaking his hand and the man is a multiple award winning director and screen writer, albeit no longer as prolific as he was twenty or even ten years ago, but he still has a presence that expects people to listen to him when he talks. He’s a little intimidating, but not because of his reputation in Hollywood. This is Bradley’s other parental figure and he desperately wants to make a good impression.

                “And you. Pete’s told me a lot about you.”

                “Uh. Okay,” Jake says and grimaces a little, because he’d rather that he’d heard all about Jake from Bradley, but he guesses they’re new, Bradley wouldn’t have had time to talk about him to his parental figures.

                “Don’t worry, I only believe about half of what Pete tells me.”

                “How do you know what half to believe?”

                “Experience,” Kazansky says dryly and Jake bites his lip in amusement, ducks his head so it won’t be noticed. “Also Pete is prone to exaggeration. He’s likely bothering Marcia and Arnold. And Bradley. Thought I’d come and introduce myself.”

                Jake nods.

                “Bradley didn’t tell me about you until just this morning, hasn’t really had a chance to tell me anything. I know he was planning on a family dinner when we get back to LA.”

                “Yes. Pete sort of forced Bradley’s hand there. You’ll get used to it. I hope.”

                “Bradley has already warned me that Parent-Pete is different from the Professional-Pete that I know, but I’m not going to be scared off by threats or anything. Bradley’s already having to deal with that from my mom, so it seems like the bare minimum I can do.”

                “It’s not the threats I’d be worried about when it comes to Pete. And I guess I get Partner-Pete and you get Parent-in-law-Pete. Lord help us.”

                Jake thinks he’s going to like him, once he gets to know him better. Seems to have a dry sense of humor and actually… reminds him a lot of his dad.

                “I don’t know if you’re wanting to hang around the set, but if you want a quiet place to just, sit and chill, my dad is at home. He doesn’t get out much since his accident, prefers peace and quiet. You’re welcome to wait there, if you don’t want to hang around the set that is.”

                He’s aware he’s rambling a little, but by the expression on Tom Kazansky’s face he’s letting Jake do it deliberately.

                “I’d like that. Thank you.”

TWENTY

[cakerybakery]

Childish Behaviour part four.

“Okay. Now you try.” Micheal was being friendly but Lucifer rolled his eyes. He’s seen Micheal turn into a bird and it didn’t look hard at all.

He concentrated on what kind of bird he wanted to be. Lucifer wanted to be a duck. Then he could show Lilith and Adam, if they could find him, his new toy and how well he could turn into a duck.

He tried to think about what kind of duck to turn into and couldn’t make up his mind. They had all kinds of colours of feathers and even bills. He’d seen one with a blue bill once! What kind would his friends like?

Lilith’s shiny blonde hair came to mind and he remembered the baby ducks he and Adam had watched at one of the ponds a few days ago when they had still been friends. It’s fluffy yellow feathers and how Adam had thought they were cute.

Lucifer concentrated on those little ducklings. Their little bill and fluffy feathers. Their little webbed feet and tiny wings. Then closed his eyes and transformed with a little pop.

He opened one eye and then the other. Looking up and Micheal was HUGE!

A quack popped out of his bill in surprise. It worked! He clapped his little wings and tried to take a step.

He tripped over his own webbed feet and quacked as he giggled. Lucifer tried to get back up but couldn’t figure out how to get his feet under him again. Lucifer wiggled his tail feathers as he tried to push up his back end up but he just pushed himself along the ground.

Big hands wrapped around his belly and he was gently lifted up.

“Well done, Lucifer. You did a very good job!” Micheal praised him with a smile.

He quacked happily as his tail feathers wagged uncontrollably.

Micheal said he did a good job! Lucifer couldn’t wait to tell Sera all about it!

“Morningstar?”

Sera! She was here to pick him up!

He wasn’t allowed to go to his lessons on his own anymore and she picked him up to go to Eden for the afternoon too because she didn’t want him skipping or getting lost.

He was a whole fourteen days old! He’d been to Eden on his own, like, four whole times! She worried too much. He could even turn into a duckling now. He was very grown up.

Flapping, he wiggled from Michael’s hands and landed on his fluffy butt. Michael put him on his webbed feet and he waddled as quickly as he could to Sera, hopping around her and quacking excitedly because he wasn’t sure yet how to talk as an animal.

She smiled at him and scooped Lucifer up. Sera looked him over and nodded approvingly. “Excellent job, Lucifer.”

Joy burst through him and he could barely stand because his tail feathers were wagging so hard.

Sera thought he did a good job! And excellent job! Lucifer couldn’t wait to show his friends!

Micheal scratched his head as Lucifer plopped down in Sera’s hand. He wait impatiently as the grownups talked about him but he was too busy thinking about what games he was going to play with Lilith and if she had found Adam yet to pay attention until they were finally saying goodbye.

“You don’t want to turn back?”

He shook his head no and let Sera carry him all the way to Eden.

Lilith was going to be so so SO surprised!

The whole trip down he was very good and patient, even though it took forever for Sera to find Lilith being given a bath in one of the shallow ponds by an angel lady Lucifer didn’t know.

Before he could help himself he paddled his little legs furiously, excited to get into the water and surprise Lilith.

“How did you get so dirty?” The angel tutted scrubbing at Lilith’s hair while she pouted.

“I’m bored! I want to play in the mud again!”

The angel just sighed and dunked her under to be rinsed off.

Unable to contain Lucifer any more Sera let him go in the water and he paddled over to Lilith, who was shaking her head to get the water out of her ears.

He raised his head proudly and paddled close by her, giving a little quack to get her attention.

Lilith gave him a curious little smile and reached out to pet him. “Hello pretty bird.”

He let her.

The little smile grew and she gasped as she touched his feathers.

“Ohhh, so soft.”

Lucifer couldn’t contain himself anymore and lost control of the transformation. No longer buoyant, he sunk into the pond.

Much like Adam had the first time they met, Lilith gave a surprised shriek and jumped back.

He sat up, spit water out of his mouth and put his wet hat back on. “Hi Lilith! I learned to turn into a duck! Want to play?”

[lordeemailarchive]

Pure Heroine turns 10

(27/09/2023) (PH 10 YEAR ANNIVERSARY DISPATCH)

Living in Ruins of a Palace within My Dreams

Photo by Simeon Patience

Hi,

Firstly, I wanna say thank you for your extremely supportive and kind messages after my last newsletter. I genuinely feel deeply cared for, less alone, and more sure that things will be okay after sending it! Albeit with a slight overshare hangover. I think a part of me knew that I had hit a wall, and that I needed to invite in the compassion and understand I’d been struggling to generate on my own, and then I’d have something to draw from and mirror. It feels like it’s working. I feel incredibly grateful that we have this relationship, that we can each give when the other needs it. Beautiful stuff x

Now, might U have noticed it’s 2013 mode round here????????? Yes that’s right, it’s a very special anniversary… Pure Heroine is... ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡TEN ˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚ YEARS ˚༘♡ ⋆｡˚ OLD ੈ✩‧₊˚ TODAY ! ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

You may (like me most of the time) hold the opinion that this album has been MYTHOLOGISED QUITE ENOUGH, but a milestone is a milestone, so I thought coming here and typing some shit to u about this time would be a fun thing for those who care.

2 xxxxtra special ltd time only commemorative designs by Hassan, who did the original of this bootleg tee 10 years ago❤️

It’s close to midnight, and I’ve just finished scrolling through my entire computer and phone archive from 2011-2013. Going on this memory lane ride has reminded me, for one thing, what a different time it was technologically. We were just starting to be able to see ourselves in real time, but we weren’t constantly connected. I had an iPod touch until halfway through 2013, which didn’t have a front camera or internet access, and my sister and I shared a MacBook, which is where we did our schoolwork and I wrote my lyrics. I took my first few years of selfies on Photo Booth…. Just let that… sink in!!!

Note the Royals Nat Geo pic in background— it’s happening...

When I was fourteen, my greatest work of art was my bedroom. A very cool, very classic teenage bedroom, Andie’s and Duckie’s from Pretty in Pink meets the Virgin Suicides— fairy lights, fabric on the ceiling, candles, stolen road signs (badman), paper lanterns, beer crate shelves, magazine pictures and club night posters and permanent marker on the walls. Bliss! I’d sit up there and vibe out, taking a lot of selfies. Creating a small-scale work of art using the self, and then examining the product from every angle, was the best method I had to express myself and exercise creativity at that time, and I now see it as an important PH incubation phase, whether I knew it or not. Something really amazing about a young person starting to see their own face and body for the first time, coming to a very secret understanding that they are beautiful. 

I started to smoke weed, which gave me a deeper understanding of sensory pleasure, and allowed me to start to see my world as a possible work of art. I’d go on long walks around the neighbourhood, and began to mythologise the stuff around me (big empty floodlit rugby fields/bus rides/dark streets/boredom/isolation) into the motifs that would become Pure Heroine. I wore a lot of like, navy lipsticks from the 2 dollar shop. God, this aesthetic, It’s just TOO MUCH.

At some point in here, I met Joel, and another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. When you’re a teenager, you’re particularly sensitive to adults being condescending to you, not respecting the specific and finely tuned skills you have because of the ones you don’t. I was always on the look out for it, and from the first day meeting Joel, I knew that he would never give me that feeling. Which I’m sure wasn’t easy — my wallet at the time was the foot of a pair of tights that I cut off and knotted at the top — but somehow from the very beginning he made me feel like my ideas had value, like we were peers, in the most sensitive and age-appropriate way. 

My view for thousands of hours making this album

We got on a call earlier this week and broke down the complete history of making the album. We both agreed that making Pure Heroine was deeply exciting and intimate and free, and still one of our most treasured experiences. I’ve linked it here.The second half of 2013 is when I really met the world, went to America and Australia and Europe for the first time. I found an incredible (for some reason Christmas themed) disposable camera image of my stage outfits all over the floor of my hotel room, which really sums up how ad hoc everything was at the beginning — a jetlagged sixteen year old, late for lobby call and frantically stuffing thousands of dollars of borrowed clothes into a suitcase. 

In this stage, it felt like I pulled everything off by the skin of my teeth. Every week was the most exciting week of my whole life, I was so tired and still didn’t have a winter coat and took everyone clamouring for a piece of me completely for granted. I had zero cultural context, had no idea if an interview or TV show was huge or small, and so breezed through it all truly not giving a fuck. I am not a naturally nonchalant person, it was literally just too much to care about, I could hardly get up in the morning, so I just said absolutely whatever I felt like, all kinds of wild shit, if someone did something corny I’d say so, I was ruthless in that way that only teens are. Then through that year we went on our first tours, met you guys for the first time, hours and hours of hugs after the show, my favourite part so far and where it started to feel real for me. James took a lot of beautiful film photos through that time, and I’m really grateful he did.

Ten years goes really fast. One minute you’re wearing a leather collar with a giant crystal hanging off it to a Chanel party, and the next you’re blonde. A lot of stuff isn’t good after ten years. But I am still totally touched by this sweet record. I have deep respect for the vision of the little one making it. 

Going back through all of this has reminded me of something that feels important to point out, whether you make art or not: everything starts out as a bunch of bullshit in a laptop. Pure Heroine was a handful of Photo Booth selfies and emotional Word documents and Tumblr posts (and a gorgeous over-decorated bedroom) before it was even one song. I had no reason, on paper, to believe that I was capable of anything. But if you can trust that the first impulse you had to create came from a place of deep wisdom, develop a few principles for your decision-making, and absorb a lot of stuff you find inspiring, you’ll have something special on your hands. Pure Heroine exists because I had the tiniest inkling of what I’ve now come to see as one of my guiding principles: that each of us have a handful of songs inside us that are ours, and only ours, to sing. Your specific interests and upbringing and physiology and experiences exist only in you; you are sitting on a gold mine that no one can rob. Whatever that means to you, whatever that statement you were born to make is, I invite you to take a big breath and make it.

All my love for another ten years of all this, and more, and more—

Ella XXXXXXXXXX

(source: received this email)

[softie-rain]

Like or Like Like

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow/Sejanus Plinth

Tags: possibly ooc - takes place two years before canon - coryo is weirdly nice - idk guys this is so lovesick and fluffy I'm not used to it

Summary: Having a crush on the handsome boy you share classes with has got to be the most embarrassing thing to happen to someone. Like, seriously: how do you hide it without failing? Or, Sejanus Plinth is caught staring at Coriolanus Snow during class.

Notes: inspired by the headcanon @incorrect-pipravi sent, which you can find here. Was supposed to be a small drabble and instead ended up 2k words (which is shorter than what I usually write anyway.)

Also damn I haven't posted my writing on tumblr since FOREVER it's been ages fr. So this is your reminder that other than bitching about coryo and sej I also write

you can read it on ao3 here

Sejanus kept staring at his reflection in the mirror, fixing his hair. He wasn’t one to usually care about his looks, as long as he looked decent enough to go out in public. But lately he felt like had to be at his best, even going as far as thinking of wearing his favorite sweatshirt (the blue one Coriolanus gave him for his fourteen birthday, he had been the only one to show up at the party he had organized), but the weather was definitely too hot for that one. Besides, the uniform was mandatory at the Academy.

“Sejanus, why are you still here? You have to hurry if you don’t want to be late!” His mother entered the room, looking at him with worry. Sejanus turned with an apologetic look.

“Don’t worry ma’. I’ll be fine.” He said. Mrs. Plinth nodded and walked over to him, patting him on his back.

“You look perfect, darling. I’m sure this secret girl you seem to like so much will adore you!”

“Ma’!” Sejanus heavily blushed, gently pushing his mother away in embarrassment. The old woman chuckled, smiling at her son.

“There’s no need to be ashamed of it. Everyone has their first crush at some point.” She said, trying to reassure her son. Sejanus wanted to laugh. Of course his mother didn’t know. There was no way she could have found out on her own, and he never said anything. She was convinced Sejanus was in love with a girl from the Academy, and he surely wasn’t going to be the one to break the news to her that said girl was actually Coriolanus Snow.

He wasn’t sure his ma’ would have minded actually. She thought Coriolanus was a good boy, and even his father appreciated him. Yet Sejanus had never told them the truth, and he wasn’t going to. Whether out of shame, or fear, it didn’t matter.

Sejanus shook his head, ignoring his mother’s comment. “I better get going now or, as you said, I’m going to be late. See you later ma’.” He said, waving at her as he walked out of the apartment.

After the short drive to the Academy he ran up the stairs rushing to get to class, even if there was no need to. They had assigned seats, he knew he'd end up sitting next to Coriolanus either way. But he also wanted to chat before class started, and Coryo always seemed to arrive awfully early, for some unknown reason.

When he finally got in the room he smiled upon noticing the curly haired boy with his head down in the textbook, probably revising for the lecture of the day. Coriolanus was a perfectionist like that, always studying, making sure everything he did was excellent, especially when it came to the Academy and his studies. Sejanus was pretty sure he had never failed one single class.

Clemensia Dovecote hadn't either, but she didn't put in half the effort Coriolanus did. Coriolanus Snow always worked much more than what was required, sometimes Sejanus wondered if it was because he wanted to be better than everyone else. Or maybe he just craved academic validation.

Either way, Sejanus thought it was extremely attractive. When he was always so carefully focused in class, and Sejanus so carefully focused on him. The way he'd bite his lip when he tried to get a particularly difficult subject, his small frown when he didn't understand something. A barely perceptible one, that he tried to hide to not show that he was confused but that Sejanus could see anyway. If he paid as much attention to the lesson as he did to Coriolanus he'd probably ace every class he took.

But Coriolanus was much more interesting than whatever Mrs. Click could ever blather about, right?

“Morning Coryo.” He greeted him, sitting next to him.

“Morning.” Coriolanus replied, without looking up from his book.

Sejanus bit his lip, trying to think of something to say to keep the conversation going. “What are you reading?”

“History of Panem.”

“You don't need to revise, I'm sure you'll do great as always.” Sejanus told him, smiling, thinking he'd complimented him. But Coriolanus sighed.

“That doesn't mean I'll stop studying for the exam.” He replied coldly, probably annoyed Sejanus interrupted him. So he nodded and left him to read, at least until Professor Demigloss arrived and started his lesson.

Sejanus tried to pay attention, he really did, but his eyes were drawn in as if by magnets to Coriolanus’ beautiful blonde curls that so gracefully fell on his face. Sejanus observed as he moved them away, his blue eyes focused on the board in front of him. He also noticed as Coriolanus started chewing on his pen while listening to Demigloss’ - rather boring - explanation.

Sejanus found himself wondering what it would have been like to kiss him, to have those lips on his. Would he have bit down on Sejanus’ lips the same way he was biting down the pen? Would he have been rough, or sweet and soft?

He always assumed Coriolanus was a rough lover, but he couldn't know for sure, maybe he would-

“Mr. Plinth, I believe the board is here and not where Mr. Snow is sitting.”

The professor's voice made him snap out of his lovefool trance, and Sejanus’ head immediately turned to face Professor Demigloss, who looked rather annoyed. He felt his cheeks grow warm, and he knew he was probably the same color as his Ma’ tomatoes when they were mature. He muttered an apology and looked down at his notes-less book, too embarrassed to meet anyone's eyes.

He could hear his classmates snicker, and he knew they wouldn't easily make him forget this. But, gosh, the worst were Coriolanus’ eyes on him.

Sejanus could basically feel his gaze, burning like his stare alone was setting him on fire, and he wanted nothing more than to get up and leave the room.

The rest of the class went on painfully slowly, Sejanus could have sworn it lasted hours. As soon as Demigloss dismissed them he instantly got up, packed his bag and left, ignoring Festus calling for him and rushing out before anyone else could make fun of him. Especially Coriolanus.

Truthfully he didn't think Coriolanus would. He never joined in with the others - especially Festus and Arachne - when they talked about him behind his back or made fun of him, ever since they were kids, so he didn't see why he'd start now. Either way, Sejanus couldn't stand the confrontation to test his assumption.

He tried to ignore Coriolanus the best he could the rest of the day, and he thought he managed. But then Coryo stopped him at the Academy entrance, right when he was about to leave once all of his classes were over.

“Sejanus? Can we talk?”

Sejanus shrugged, trying to play it dumb. Maybe if he pretended nothing happened Coriolanus would forget about it. “S-sure. About what?” He said, praying his voice didn't sound as high pitched to Coriolanus as it did to him.

“Uh, the history project we have to do? I thought maybe we could work on it together.”

Sejanus sighed in relief, covering it with a cough. He cleared his throat before raising his eyebrow. “History project?”

Coriolanus nodded. “Yes. Professor Demigloss talked about it today in class. Or were you too busy staring at me to pay attention to him?” He asked, grinning.

Sejanus started blushing, his eyes widening as his mind tried to come up with some excuse or at least a way to get out of that situation. His palms were getting sweaty and he could feel the panic rising up in his chest. “Oh, uhm, no. Obviously, I was listening. I was-”

“Sej relax. I'm just teasing.” Coriolanus interrupted him, his grin only growing wider. “So? What do you say about the project?”

Sejanus thought it was weird how Coriolanus didn't seem to mind it, but definitely didn't complain. If his friend was cool about it, then he was going to be as well. He nodded, avoiding eye contact. “Of course.”

“Great. It's due tomorrow so the sooner we start working on it the better.” Sejanus gave him a short smile, agreeing with him.

“I'd suggest going over at my place, but the cleaners are around today. They’re usually very invasive, I don’t want them scooping around while we study.” He explained, sounding annoyed. Sejanus nodded, understanding his problem. He had the same struggles with his own cleaners, though usually they left him alone when he asked.

“It’s okay, I get that. Maybe we could study at my place then?” He suggested, trying not to blush again at the thought of him and Coriolanus alone in his bedroom. Coriolanus didn’t seem to notice his struggles at keeping his cool and nodded, mumbling a ‘sure’ before following Sejanus outside where his driver was waiting for him.

Sejanus spent the drive to his house in silence, hoping his mother had gone through with her plan for the day and was out shopping. He wanted to avoid any awkward meeting between her and Coryo. But of course, when they got into his apartment, there she stood in the kitchen waiting for her beloved son. “Sejanus? Is that you?” She asked, walking over to them. Her eyes slightly widened in surprise when she noticed Coriolanus with him. “Oh! I didn’t know you were going to have friends over. Hi, Coriolanus.”

Coriolanus smiled at the woman. “Hello Mrs. Plinth. Sorry for intruding.” He said, giving Sejanus’ mother an apologetic look.

“Oh nonsense. I was about to leave anyway, I need to buy some new clothes for little Sej here.” She said smiling. Sejanus felt as if his skin was on fire at his ma’ words, and he could see in the corner of his eyes Coriolanus trying not to laugh.

“Okay well me and Coryo will be studying in my bedroom, see you later ma’.” He said quickly, wanting to get out of that situation as soon as possible. Once they got to his room they immediately started working on the project, neither of them wanting to waste any more time. Coriolanus shared his notes with Sejanus since he had taken none during class, too busy staring at Coryo.

The evening went on uneventfully, they spent most of it on the books with one snack break where Sejanus offered Coriolanus the cookies he had baked the day before, which the blonde boy seemed to most definitely appreciate considering the eager way he was eating them.

Sejanus was sitting on his bed while Coriolanus was at his desk, leaning on the chair. They were almost done with the school work when Coriolanus spoke. “Why were you staring at me?” Sejanus blushed and dropped his pen on the floor, immediately picking it up as if the falling object could have been a new source of embarrassment for him. “Earlier, in class.” He added, as if he needed a reminder of what Coriolanus was talking about.

“Uhm…” Sejanus didn't know what to say. He avoided the subject all day. He knew it was impossible for Coryo to forget about it so quickly but he wasn't expecting him to bring it up now either. Especially since he had sounded fine with the situation that morning.

Coriolanus must have noticed Sejanus was rather uncomfortable, because he immediately specified, “I'm not making fun of you for it. I'm just curious. Did I have something on my face?”

He was smiling, but Sejanus wasn’t sure it was meant to be a joke. More of a light comment to put him at ease. Though he didn't work he appreciated the effort, so much he thought Coriolanus deserved the truth, or at least half of it. Sejanus had never been good at lying anyway.

“No, nothing like that. Honestly? I was looking at your hair. And your eyes.” He confessed, avoiding the other's gaze.

Coriolanus frowned. “My eyes?”

“Yeah. They're very… blue. And pretty. It's like staring at the ocean, or the clear sky. Sorry, I know it's dumb. Just got caught up in my thoughts I guess.” Sejanus mumbled, drawing doodles on his hands as he tried to fight the urge to ramble out dumb excuses that would have led Coriolanus to realize he had a crush on him.

He had just admitted he thought his eyes were pretty, could it get worse than that?

Fortunately he didn't have to find out because Coriolanus simply nodded and dropped the subject. Sejanus didn't say anything either, but when he raised his eyes again and saw Coriolanus bouncing his leg nervously under the desk he could have sworn he saw his cheeks growing red, though he was clearly trying to hide it.

Sejanus smiled and looked down, going back to check his notes, when Coriolanus spoke again. “I like your eyes too.” He said, catching Sejanus by surprise.

“They're this dark brown color that gets lighter if you observe them under the sunlight. They look like milk chocolate chips.” Coriolanus commented, never once switching his position or raising his head to look at Sejanus as she talked. “I love chocolate.” He said, and it was clearly the end of their conversation on the matter.

He loves chocolate. He loves my eyes.

The thought kept playing loud in Sejanus’ head as he tried hard to stop his blushing, failing miserably. Maybe that day hadn't been so terrible after all.

[g0ttal0ve101]

Melanie <3

[a/n]: believe it or not this takes place in MIDDLE SCHOOL ❤️ aka mel is fifteen and lu is fourteen! babies making very bad decisions…. TW: ED SCENE!

“I’ll eat it.”

Melanie smiled brightly as he gave her another pack of Oreos his stepfather packed him, sighing heavily in distraught.

“He always packs me these when we get into a fight…” Lucian said softly, tucking a lock of his pretty hair behind his ear. “I get that I used to like them when I was a kid, but…they’re not even my favorite anymore.”

Melanie watched as he picked at the rest of his food, gloomy as could be — as usual. It made her sad to see him like that, but happy that he was willing to give it all up to her. A part of her felt bad for thinking that way. But not bad enough to stop.

She eyed up the rest of his lunchbox. He sighed and pushed it over in her direction, smiling weakly. “…Have it, Mel. You need it more than me.”

With a faint smile on her face, she hesitated. “You don’t have to gimmie all of it…”

“Don’t feel bad. I’m not hungry.”

He had a way with his tone. Shifting closer to her, he let out yet another deep sigh and rested his head on her shoulder. Melanie rubbed his back while eating every last bit of his lunch, even the things that he had left in there for a few days now — like granola bars and cheap wafer cookies. To her, they tasted like heaven. To anyone else, it was like taking a mouthful of sugary-dust.

Lucian looked off into the distance as she finished up, clearly too wrapped in his own thoughts to care what she was doing. That’s probably why he didn’t see her eyeing up all the notes in his lunchbox pocket labeled For Bunny. She didn’t have the heart to mention it. It was evident from his face that he didn’t like talking about anything related to his stepfather nowadays.

“…Mel, are you okay?”

The question took her aback. She was in the middle of feeling bad for him, so she hardly expected the tables to be turned back onto herself. She blinked in awe a few times before wiping her mouth off and raising an eyebrow, confused as to why he shifted the barrel of the gun.

“Uh, yeah? Why?”

“I dunno. You’ve kinda lost a lot of weight.”

Bullseye. Melanie’s jaw dropped for a moment before she quickly fixed her face, laughing it off as though the comment had no relevance whatsoever.

“Have I? Good, I was looking like a real fatass earlier this year!”

Lucian lifted his head from her shoulder and furrowed his eyebrows. She nervously laughed.

“You weren’t fat at all, actually. And even if you were, it doesn’t make a difference. You’ll always be the prettiest girl I know.”

Melanie’s face grew warm as she swatted him away with her hand. “You’re just saying thaaat…”

“No, I’m not! I think you’re super pretty!”

Their faces were inches from each other. Melanie rolled her eyes and shoved him away, knowing he lost all sense of personal space again. He laughed a little before lowering his head and batting his eyelashes.

“Melanieee…”

“I don’t wanna hear it from you! You’re just blowing smoke up my ass!”

“Nuh-uh! I really do think those things, Mel. And I don’t think that you should concern yourself with your weight as much as you do.”

“W-Well, you’re the one who brought it up!”

Lucian pouted his lips a little. “That’s ’cause I know that you’re losing weight on purpose, silly. Just last week, you kept checking to see if your fingers could fit all around your wrist. Then, you cried the other week when we got our PE physicals done and you were a pound heavier! Plus, you always talk about how you wished you were as skinny as Kai from history class!”

Melanie bit her fingernails with a sly grin. “Okay, but he has the perfect body, right? I’m not wrong about that…”

“I dunno him very well, but I don’t think that figure’s healthy, Mel…”

“But you have to admit he’s hot! That waist is just…oooh, Lu you don’t even wanna know.”

“H-How long have you been watching this guy?!”

“Is it weird to check out everyone in the locker room? I think Mia’s the hottest. Don’t even get me started on—!”

“I’m not getting you started! Stop!”

“Whaaat, you’re telling me you don’t take a peek while you’re getting changed? Not even a little?”

“I think I’d rather die. Honest to God.”

Melanie nudged him on the arm playfully to point out Kai from afar, walking with a pair of headphones on and no lunch. It was a pitiful sight, but Melanie seemed to see way more into it than just a lonely kid.

“You see that?! Lookit!”

Lucian looked away bashfully. “…Do you want David to kill me?

“He can kiss my ass. Anyways, what’s so wrong with me wanting that figure for myself? It’s not like I’m starving or anything. Didn’t you just see me eat all that food like a fuckin’ pig? I’m cool! I’m getting all the calories I need!”

“You do eat well…”

“See? There’s no problem! You’re just worrying yourself too much, babe.” She patted his head lovingly with a cheeky grin. “I’m fiiine.”

Lucian fidgeted with his fingers. “I just wanna make sure, Mel…”

She hated how easy it was to lie to him.

Trying her hardest to shift the conversation without being too obvious and making him poke more, she wrapped her arm around his shoulder and pulled him close. He struggled to break free.

“I don’t get how you can be so skinny when you drink that much! Alcohol makes a lotta people gain weight! That reminds me, are you going to Lindsey’s birthday party?”

Lucian smiled ear-to-ear. “With David! We’re gonna pregame too! David makes these awesome drinks with fruit-flavored vodka, prosecco, and Sprite. Trust me, it’s a life changer…maybe you can come over and try some!”

“No, you jerk. I’m not tryna gain the weight back. Just…don’t overdo it like last time, okay?”

“Well, are you coming to the party?”

“Hell yeah, I’m coming to the party! Trust me, I can have more fun sober than you can when you’re wasted.”

Lucian rolled his eyes with a silly grin spread across his face. “Whateverrr.”

And that’s how Melanie found herself in Lindsey Hall’s bathroom, making herself throw up into the toilet. She stuck her finger down her throat to hit her gag reflex, making sure to have every calorie hit the road before it was fully digested. The cheap school breakfast, Lucian’s lunch, the party snacks, all of it. She wanted it all gone.

It hurt. Throwing up everyday made her diaphragm sore and her stomach upset beyond belief. She figured the pain she felt was really just her body eating itself, slimming down to the perfect waistline and flat tummy she wanted. If she kept this cycle going — eating like a fucking pig then purging — she’d look better. Look thinner.

Become beautiful.

It took her twenty minutes to get it all done. She always packed a toothbrush in her bag so she could brush all the grime out anywhere she wanted, practically making her gums bleed from how much pressure she used to muffle the taste. Amidst her tearful routine of cleaning her mouth out, she finally heard the expected knock against the door. She groaned and wiped her lips, putting her toothbrush back into its original position in her leopard-print handbag.

“I’m in here!”

“Melll, come onnn! We’re gonna take shots!”

Melanie rolled her eyes. Telling by his slurred words, Lucian was already pushing his body’s limits of intoxication. Like usual.

Fixing her hair and lipstick, she pulled herself together and tried to conceal her tears. “Okay, okay, I’m coming.”

[tumbling-through-deepspace]

The Hunter, a baby and the unexpected forming of family in unlikely places: Chapter Five

Chapter Summary: Everyone, old and new wants a piece of Lyssa.

AN: The song in this chapter is called Promises by Savage Garden. This chapter should have been finished and uploaded on Sunday, but I have a terrible cold that has knocked me on my ass. I didn't get to write all I wanted for this chapter, so it's a bit short. I'll be writing more next chapter. Hopefully I'll be fully recovered by this weekend.

Word Count: 1384 words

Eventual Relationships: Xavier/MC/Rafayel

Zayne/Sylus/Lyssa

Chapter Five: There's a time to play the king and a time to be a thief

The transition from Linkon city to where they are now was smooth and Lyssa was grateful. Growing up after the introduction to Wanderers fourteen years ago, instability wasn’t something she liked. So, being able to provide that to someone else, gave her a warm sense of accomplishment.

Ella loved the bungalow, especially the garden. The pair spent most of their time outdoors; the birds adored the chick, and the feeling of peace was riveting.

However, why for the past few days, did she feel like she was being watched? It wasn’t the presence of a human nor was it a wanderer; there was also no malice or negative aura in the air— no, it was just something there that came and went at any moment.

Others would be nervous or concerned but she wasn’t. When they decide to stop hiding, then she would deal with it. What was important was little Ella not being in any danger.

The little girl was more expressive and outgoing in the new environment. She was babbling more, crawling around a lot and overall happy. Lyssa tried not to make her mind wonder what her daughter’s earlier introduction to life was.

“No sweetheart, that’s not for your mouth.”

She quickly but carefully took a wooden spoon from her hand and replaced it with a teething ring. Ella gave the ring one look and chucked it away, giving Lyssa the most annoyed expression a 5-month-old could make.

The hunter had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop from laughing “I’m sorry but that is not for your mouth. That is what the teething ring is for.”

Little Ella gives a shout followed by heated babbling. Lyssa raised a brow “I think it is too early for you to be arguing with me young lady.”

This prompted another shout, hands flaring around and finally a full-blown tantrum. Sighing, Lyssa sat up gently picking up the screaming chick and started humming.

“I know honey but it’s not baby friendly. I know, how about I sing you a song. It’s a classic and a personal favorite of mine.”

Little Ella heard the word singing and stopped her screaming for a few seconds before starting again.

Well don't you know I need a little indulgence? Listen to the hunter becoming hunted Every day there's a million advances Don't be too forceful you'll ruin your chances

Big tear-filled eyes looked up at her mama, the screaming decreasing line by line.

Well don't you know that time is a broken glass That splinters against the wall? But the picture is coming back now, baby And I want to take it all

Lyssa started swaying lightly, patting Ella’s back to the beat of the song

Don't go making all these promises you know you cannot keep There's a time to play the king and a time to be a thief 'Cause if you're making all these promises you know you cannot keep You know time will be the thief and your fallen king will end up alone

At this point, the little one had calmed down and started babbling. Lyssa smiled and stopped singing.

“There we go, pretty girl. Much better. Let’s go inside and I’ll make you a bottle then read a book.”

Jasmin sat at her desk putting the finishing touches on her report. The past few days have been hectic between missions, planning to enter the N109 zone and dealing with her own demons.

Her eyes glanced over to the adjacent desk that was empty, and she couldn’t stop the frown that formed on her face.

Not having Lyssa around felt weird; the two may not be partners but the woman was a constant presence with her sarcastic way of speaking and dark humor. It baffled her when Captain Jenna announced to the team that Lyssa was on a disclosed assignment that would have her away from the Association for a while.

She had so many questions but wasn’t able to get any answers. Next, she thought about Zayne, her childhood friend who didn’t want to admit he had a crush on the woman and was disappointed when he returned to her apartment to find out she was no longer there. The man sulked for a week because of it.

Her phone was still switched off, so there was no way anyone could get a hold of her. Jasmin sighed, leaning back in her chair. The whole situation left her confused.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Looking up she made eye contact with her field partner and friend Xavier. Now this was another individual who had her mind asking a ton of questions with no answers in sight.

Xavier was an enigma, and Jasmin was slowly learning to leave some things be especially when it comes to him. It prevented a ton of headaches.

“Hey Xavier. Oh, nothing is wrong per say. I was just thinking about Lyssa that’s all.”

“That’s the girl that occupies that empty desk, right? Is she alright? Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“I can assume she’s okay. Right, you weren’t here for the announcement… Lyssa was assigned to an assignment that will have her away from the Association for quite some time.”

Xavier studied her for a bit “I’m sensing it's something more than that?”

She nodded “My gut tells me that it is, but I don’t know how to find out more without raising suspicion. It’s not normal for Lyssa to just vanish like that.”

“I won’t mind helping you find out where she went.”

Jasmin blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting the offer “You won’t mind? I know you’re busy most days, I wouldn’t want to impose on your time.”

“It’s alright, I would not have offered if I didn’t intend to help.”

“Thank you, Xavier.”

A young woman entered Asko Hospital; a smile planted on her face as she greeted the nurse at the station, whose name was Yvonne based on her badge. The nurse quickly checked and confirmed her appointment and directed her to the Doctor’s office.

Humming as she walked down the hallways, thinking of the reaction she would get for the shit she was about to pull. Mischief was such a delicious pastime.

The Doctor’s office came into view, and she rapped on the door. A voice called out to enter which she did.

The sight of the doctor sitting at his desk made her bite the side of her cheek to stop the feral grin from coming on her face.

“Hello Dr. Zayne, it’s very nice to meet you.”

Yes, very nice indeed.

A mechanical crow sat perched on a metal stand, brooding and ignoring its person.

A man with red eyes sat behind his desk observing the bird. Ever since they returned from a mission weeks ago, the crow was in a mood.

What was puzzling about the situation was the presence of foreign Evol still present in the bird's body.

“Mephisto.”

The crow in question, gave a side eye and continued ignoring the man.

“You have been in this mood for far longer than the norm. What aren’t you telling me?”

Mephisto wasn’t in the mood to share. The human woman he crashed into was a puzzle to him. She understood what he was saying and only one person should have been able to do that.

Then there was the feeling of her Evol. It was warm, inviting and it sung. Shouldn’t it be impossible for two Evols to coexist together? He had two flowing through him right now and nothing negative has come from it.

It was also interesting watching the human woman. Recently having discovered that she had a chick; a small thing that made a lot of strange noises yet the interactions between the two was entertaining.

Then there was the singing. It always did something to him. His gaze returned to the man at the desk. Would his human find this woman to be a threat? The thought made him angry. Why?

“What has you angry now?”

Not giving an answer, Mephisto teleported outside completely missing the perplexed expression of the man.

Turning toward the East, the crow took flight. This woman was a shiny new thing, and he had no intention of letting anyone else get her.

Additional notes:

Mephisto is very intelligent and despite being a mechanical bird, has quite the personality. I find it intriguing that he has a temper and that he is able to communicate with Sylus. That is why I am taking creative liberties and giving him moments where we get glimpses to his thoughts.

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter Fourteen: It's The Merriest Time Of Year

Summary- 5k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. Christmas is just days away. You and Curtis finalize your plans for the holiday. You also meet Mason Academy's newest teachers aide and then it's off to Paulie's to celebrate the upcoming winter vacation.

Warnings- this is a pretty tame chapter, with mild talk of smut but nothing explicit, drinking, and improper use of a Santa Hat.

A/N- I know I have been piling on the chapters but I wanted to get the holiday chapters out during the season. Thank you to everyone who has read, commented, and shared. You all are the reason I continue posting. Thank you so much! Special thanks to @what-is-your-plan-today for all the speedy editing. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics

Chapter Thirteen / Masterlist

“So… you and Y/N have a good date at the aquarium?” Ella asked as she set down a steaming mug of coffee in front of Curtis while he colored with Sophia at her kitchen table. The little girl already had stolen his beanie hat and had it crookedly sitting on her head while she kept switching crayons with her uncle, informing him that Rudolph had a RED nose, not a green nose. 

“Yes, thank you for hooking me up with tickets. She absolutely loved it.” Curtis was sure to be careful sipping from the mug around Sophia. Ella smiled sweetly as she sat across from him. 

“Soph, how about you go watch some Doc McStuffins while Uncle Curtis and I talk.” 

“No.” She said without looking up, studying her coloring. 

“Sophia Jean.” Ella gave a warning tone and Curtis tapped his niece's nose gently to have her look at him.

“Do as your mother says, I will come to play before I go.” With a sassy roll of her eyes, she gave in, Curtis easing her off his lap so she could march into the living room, giving the adults privacy. 

“She is just like her mother.” He joked and Ella smirked. 

“Good means she ain't gonna take shit from anyone. So… back to the date. Tell me about it.” 

Here Curtis got suspicious of his cousin, narrowing his eyes at her. “We walked around and looked at stuff like you do in an aquarium. Why?” 

Ella gave a laugh, her grin going secretive. “Well, that's not what I heard.” 

“What did you hear?” 

“I was told that they had a couple going at it in one of the fire escapes.” 

Ella studied him closely and Curtis could feel his face heat up, sure enough, she knew so they must have actually been seen as well as heard. But he wasn't ready to admit to anything. “What makes you think it was me?” 

“Laurie told me that the girl said your name.” Ella chose to dip her spoon into her mug and scoop out some fluff she had in hers. “You gonna lie to me and say that it wasn’t you?” Curtis did his best to keep a straight face and Ella narrowed her eyes at him. “You were always a terrible liar. Grammy always knew when you were fibbing. I got her gift.” 

Giving a roll of his eyes that would put Sophia's earlier sassy look to shame, he growled out.

“Fine! Yes, we got a bit distracted.” 

Ella cackled over her mug, flashing him a thumbs up. “Good! About time you had some fun. You two are fucking like rabbits though, first Tanya’s, now the aquarium.” 

“Can we like… drop this? I don’t want to discuss my sex life with you.” Curtis scoffed and Ella shook her head. 

“Oh stop, I’m not asking for details. And I mean it, I’m really happy for you Curtis. You seem… “ She paused, looking for what she wanted to say. “Lighter? Y/N is good for you. I haven't seen you like this with anyone.” Curtis let her words sink in, if anyone would notice a change in him, it would be Ella. “Even Tanya has noticed, although I didn't tell her you defiled her mudroom.” 

“It wasn’t the mudroom.” Curtis interjected. “And we have a good thing going, I really care for Y/N, Ella, probably more than any woman I have been with before.” 

"Damn it, I thought I guessed it." Ella teased but her smile softened this time. “I can tell. Grammy and Grandpa would have loved Y/N.” They both grew quiet, Ella withdrawing to her own thoughts. Curtis thought about his grandparents, having to agree with Ella’s observation. They would have welcomed Y/N into their home just as quickly as Curtis had.

“I think you are right Ella, both of them would have absolutely loved her.” 

“Well, you certainly have Sophia’s and mine approval. We both adore Y/N. Oh, Christmas!” Ella quickly switched subjects, which Curtis was a bit relieved about. “I’m sorry Curtis, Grey’s parents really want us to come up to stay with them for a few days. I know you usually come here to spend it with Sophia…” 

“I was hoping you would.” Curtis shrugged it off. “Sophia should see her grandparents. What about your mom?” 

“Oh Mom is coming with me, you know my mom refuses to give up holidays with Soph. They invited all of us anyways. We will be going up for about a week, and be home just before New Year. So how about you come over then? I will leave stuff here for Sophia to unwrap, there will be more than enough at her grandparents. We can do a little Christmas here with you and Y/N.” 

“Sure, I will bring it up to Y/N and see what she says, but I know she loves holidays. I’m sure she will.” 

Christmas time was fast approaching and you were feeling the pressure to get everything sent out to both New York and Florida. Curtis stopped at your apartment with the shipping boxes he offered to pick up when you were currently on skype with your parents. 

“I wish you could come to visit this year Baby, but it just doesn't make sense for you to fly all the way here for that.” Your mother said on the computer, your dad in the background with his kiss the cook apron on. The familiar scene caused a sharp pain in your chest, but it was also heart-warming as well. Curtis was quiet as he came into your apartment, hearing you talk to your mother. “Besides, it's your father and mines twenty-fifth anniversary. You should bring your new boyfriend and have him meet the family in August.” 

You glanced at Curtis setting down the boxes. “Well, we will have to discuss it Mom.” 

“You know we want to meet him properly, none of this skype over the computer, it feels impersonal.” 

Curtis chose this moment to come into view of the camera, waving at your mother. “Hi Mrs.Y/L/N.” 

“Curtis! It’s Shelly, or Mom, whatever you wanna call me. I was just telling Y/N that you two should come up to Lake George this summer.” 

“I heard, I’m sure we can work something out. I should have some time off. Y/N and I will talk about it and she can let you know.” 

“See Mom.” You cut in, pointedly giving your mother a look. “Is dad making his no-bakes?” 

Your mother conveniently ignored the look, glancing at your father. “Scott, come say hello to your daughter before she has to get off.”

“I'm right in the middle of these!” He remarked as you saw him scooping out big hunks of chocolate onto wax paper. “I love you kiddo!” 

You laughed. “Mom, it's okay. Just be sure to send me some of those in your care package.” 

“Will do Sweetie, talk soon?” 

“I always do. I love you both, I will chat soon.” You waved goodbye to the screen and as soon as your mother disappeared, you closed the screen. Curtis sat on the other end of the couch for a second till he scooted closer. 

“So… New York in August.” His arm came over your shoulder and you let yourself cuddle into his side, ignoring the mess of gifts spread around your living room floor that needed to be wrapped. 

“What do you think? I mean, I know it's a lot, traveling to meet my parents and essentially my whole family as I know my parents will be having a party. My sister will be there with Frank and Mary, my aunts, uncles, and cousins, not to mention their friends.” You started picking at his pendant, rubbing it between your fingers. “It's a lot, and I hate for you to have to take time off from work to do this…” 

“Honey.” Curtis reached to grasp your chin and make you look up at him. “Do you want to go and bring me?” 

“It’s like eight months away still, we don't have to-” 

“Y/N, do you want to bring me to your parents?” 

You blinked up at him, the worries about how inconvenient it would be still festering, but he asked a straight to the point question and expected you to answer in the same sense. It was almost relieving in a way, not to have to guess and wonder what Curtis wanted to know. It was one of those things you appreciated about him. “I would like us to go together.” 

“Okay, then we will plan for it.” He pressed a kiss to your temple and moved to get up. “So I got you these two from the office, Tanya says she uses them all the time to ship stuff. Are they big enough?”

You followed along behind him into your tiny kitchen. “Plenty big enough, thank you.” You inspected them for a moment. “I can get things done tonight and shipped out tomorrow. They should reach them in time.” 

“Good.” Curtis grabbed a beer from your fridge and unscrewed the cap. You returned to the couch and he followed along, you cuddling up into his side once more. “I also stopped at Ella’s on the way over, she is going to go to Grey’s parents for a few days so I won’t be going to her place on Christmas morning. She did invite us over on New Year's Day to do a small Christmas with her and Sophia.” 

“Perfect, I can pick up a few things for under her tree then.” You sidled up to Curtis. “So… you are all mine Christmas day?” Rubbing a hand against his chest. 

“Christmas Eve too, naughty girl.” He wiggled his brows playfully. “I told Gilliam we needed the twenty-fourth off too, everyone at the freight yard deserves to spend it with their families.” 

You nodded, taking all that into account. You would be out for good around the twenty-second, you could do your deep clean of your classroom on the twenty-third and spend the rest of the time with Curtis without having to worry about returning to school till the beginning of the new year. “I have an offer.” You stated while shifting to sit up. 

“Oh, you do?” Curtis swept you into his lap, simply because he could. You were starting to get used to him pulling you on top of him whenever the mood struck him. “Let's hear it, Honey.” 

You resettled yourself till you were straddling him. “Well, Edgar gave us those tickets for a couple of nights in the cabins. What if we drove up there to spend Christmas? It will be a nice little first-time getaway for us, you said it’s only an hour away.” 

Curtis let his hands settle to your waist, pondering what you said. “Let’s give them a call, see what they are willing to do. Do you have the number?” 

You slipped from his lap to go collect the tickets and call while you wandered back to where he was waiting. After a few rings, a friendly voice answered. 

“Lakeside Cabins, How can I help you?”

“Hi. My name is Y/N and I have a gift certificate for a couple of nights I was hoping to use.”

You felt Curtis's hands fall back to your waist and make you tumble back into his lap, wrapping you up in his hold. You flashed him a look and he returned it with a smirk.

“Sure! What nights were you thinking? We have quite a few openings right now, so anything specific you were wanting?” 

“Well, I was hoping to arrive on the twenty-fourth and leave on the twenty-sixth. And as far as something special… one with some good views and maybe a hot tub?” You asked hopefully while Curtis nuzzled at your free ear, whispering. 

“We gonna get kinky in the hot tub Pretty Girl?” 

You swore the person on the other end would hear him, making you reach over your shoulder to cover his mouth to shut him up, making him laugh deeply while you did your best to keep it together. 

“Oh, I have the perfect setup. It's an open loft bedroom with a double bed, and the views from the porch make it all worth it. And it has a hot tub. In fact…” You heard some clicking on the computer and a triumphant sound from the person. 

Although it might have been Curtis behind you trying to mess with you. 

“... No one will be in this unit till after New Year, I can give you another night half off?” 

You didn't even have a chance to answer when Curtis pulled away to answer for you. “We will take it.” 

“You heard him, we will take it.” You exclaimed into the phone, after everything was finalized, you tossed your phone at the other end of the couch, twisting to face Curtis. 

“You’re a menace.” 

Curtis couldn't hide his grin, wiggling brows as he swept you up in his arms and pushed himself to a stand to carry you off to the bedroom. “Not me, I've been nothing but good.” 

“Santa’s leaving you coal in your stocking.” 

He lowered you to the bed, kissing you deeply while shifting over you to push you back. “All I care about is who's in my bed, not what is in my stocking.” 

You couldn't help but laugh as he pinned you underneath him on the bed.

Days before Christmas Vacation were hectic at the school. More so the kids were excited about the long upcoming break and having a hard time focusing. You chose not to assign them any homework during the break, knowing first that your colleagues had all given them assignments and you didn't want to set up half of them for failure. You knew that if they did manage to finish the work, it would probably be half-ass. 

Besides, it was their vacation as much as yours, you didn't relish the thought of having to grade those papers. 

So, you were doing your best to engage them in class, hushed whispers oftentimes rising above you speaking until you flicked the lights off and pulled in one of the school's ancient television and DVD sets. You turned to one of your trusty David Attenborough films and plugged it in. In your last attempt to gain their attention, you promised them a pop quiz before stepping from your classroom, the hallway was quiet for the moment as you took a deep breath. “Just a few more days Y/N.” You said to yourself. 

Coming up the hallway, the principal came, trailing a young woman behind her. “Miss Y/L/N, do you have a moment? I want to introduce you to the newest teacher's aide for the eighth-grade class, Yona.” You put on your most genuine smile as you held out your hand to shake the woman's hand. 

“No, kids are just getting ready to watch a film for their course. Hi, welcome to Mason Academy.” 

The woman shook your hand, smiling in return. “It’s my pleasure to be here.” 

“Miss. Y/L/N will you show her around a bit if your class is occupied?” 

“Of course, they should be good for at least another half hour. I will just have Claude open the door between our rooms, and keep her eye on them.” You offered and when the two of you were left alone, you started the tour. 

“So this is the science room, where I teach, then we got the math room, a computer lab, and then the two at the end of this hallway are the English and social studies rooms. Teachers' bathrooms are back towards the principal's office, so it's just easier to use the student ones. It also kind of keeps them from hanging out in them too much. The library is right across from us and if you go through there the cafeteria is the high school wing just down the hall. The gym is through these doors and that's really all I know. I don't go the high school side often.” You shrugged and walked the hallway with Yona. 

She was quiet, you observed her wide-eyed glances seemingly taking everything in and filing it away. “It’s smaller than I thought it would be.” She admitted. 

“It is, Duluth has quite a few other schools, I think it's split pretty evenly so we got lucky, no school has an insane amount of kids. I have been teaching here since September and so far have really enjoyed the atmosphere. Where are you coming from?” 

“California, so I’m used to everything being overcrowded,” Yona admitted. “I like this, it is exactly what I was hoping for. Smaller classroom sizes to work with the kids.” 

“Then I promise, you are going to love it.” You two had circled back to your classroom and peeked in. “And why not start now, the film is winding down.” You opened the door and stepped in, Yona following behind. 

“Class, we have a new addition.” 

Yona settled right into the flow of the school that day. You always looked forward to having her join your classes when her schedule was set up. There was an instant connection to the students, she was able to draw some of them out of their shells and open up to her in a way you had struggled to do. 

Yona also had the uncanny talent of keeping them focused, the students that you knew struggled at times she would pull up a chair to their desk, talking through the work till it seemed to click for them what you were trying to teach, enabling you to focus on the class as a whole. You were incredibly relieved the school hired her. 

But, you were still incredibly grateful when vacation rolled around and you wished everyone a happy holiday and to see them in the new year. The only one to stick around with you afterward was Claude as you two were going to ride together to Paulie’s to celebrate with some beers and games. 

“I didn’t think we would ever make it to today!” Claude exclaimed as she helped you pick up your classroom and lock away anything of value. “What are your plans for the next week and a half?” 

You were grabbing your bag and shouldering it while digging for your keys. “Curtis and I are getting away for a few days with that gift certificate Edgar gave us.” You paused at your desk and sorted through some papers till you found the picture Steve had drawn all those months ago and tucked it in your bag as well. “I will skype with my parents and sister on Christmas day but that is really it. We will be soaking in a hot tub with a snowy lakeside view the entire time.” 

“Sure you will… or you two will never leave the bedroom.” Claude smirked and you shrugged. 

“Open loft actually and that's a fact I’m counting on it. I hope they have a really comfy bed.” You laughed. “Then New Year’s his cousin invited us over so Curtis can have a Christmas with his niece. What about you?” 

“That all sounds… really nice and relaxed. I'm jealous.” Claude pouted as you two made your way down the corridor to head into the teachers' parking lot. “I’m driving to my brother's place. His wife is like a freaken warden.” Claude started mimicking her sister-in-law. “The kids will only go to the best of the best. “I don't want the kids slumming it in those low-class public schools,” she states as I’m across the dinner table. I’m tempted to suddenly get a cough and can’t go.”  

You hurriedly unlocked your doors for the two of you to pile in out of the cold. “She sounds like a real nightmare.” 

“She is the worst. I don't know why Francesco puts up with her.” Claude shuddered as she rubbed her hands together, the two of you waiting for the car to heat up. “Think they are already at Paulie’s?” 

You glanced at your dashboard clock. “I’m sure of it, Curtis told me they were getting out early today. I'm sure Paulie has them nice and tipsy already.” 

Claude grinned. “Good, Grey is fun when he gets liquored.”

When the car finally heated enough to see out of the windshield, you changed the subject on Claude. “What do you think of Yona?” 

“Oh, I like her a lot. I almost invited her out with us tonight.” Claude admitted, giggling at her phone. “Yeah, they are already celebrating.” She flashed you a picture of Curtis and Edgar taking some shots of dark liquor. 

“I do too, you should next time, see if she will come.” You snorted in laughter seeing the picture.

“They are gonna put poor Edgar under the table if they keep doing shots.” 

“Probably.” Claude ditched her phone and started to check her appearance in the car's vanity mirror. “I have to make tonight count with Grey, he will be heading to his parents with Sophia and Ella.” She flipped the mirror back up. 

“And how are you feeling about that situation?” You asked, knowing that Claude had questioned it before, not wanting to step into something that would turn into a mess. 

“I’m learning to adjust to it. After you told me what Curtis said, Grey and I talked about it. He was flat-out adamant that he and Ella were never getting together, that they were friends and were before Sophia was in the picture. But they don't have any feelings outside of a friendship. It was really just a night they both were drunk and vulnerable. I mean, I get it. I've had those nights where I went home with someone from the bar.” 

“Grey also really loves Sophia.” 

“He does. I haven't met her yet, but he has shown me pictures and talks about her. She sounds like a sweet little girl. I honestly hope she will like me when we are to that point.” 

“Sophia is an absolute sweetheart. You two getting serious?” You turned into the parking lot, parking next to Curtis’s truck. 

“I think so, I mean we haven't put a label to anything or said exclusive but it feels like it's headed that way,” Claude admitted with a bright smile. “And I’m excited about it. I never thanked you really for introducing us at Halloween.” She leaned over, hugging you quickly.

You returned the gesture. “Right place, right time. Life is short, we gotta take our advantages where we get them.” 

Going into the bar, you were met with the blaring of Christmas music over the loudspeakers, decorations plastered around, including what looked like a singing Rudolph head lovingly covered in Christmas balls above the bar, glowing red nose and all. Claude split off to find Grey while you approached the bar, knowing Curtis would probably be behind it helping till you got there. 

Sure enough, he was standing under the red-nosed reindeer, filling up beer glasses for a couple of women leaning against the bar, making eyes at him. “You sure we can't get you to dance with us?” One batted her eyelashes at him and you settled a couple of seats down to watch the show. 

Another time, this would have sent you into a tailspin of doubt, expecting him to flirt back or take them up on the offer. Another man, like your ex would have jumped at the chance since these women were stunning. Curtis though set their beers on coasters, shaking his head. 

“Listen to me, I’m happily in a relationship.” He cocked his head towards you, still all in your work clothes, which were fairly modest compared to theirs. “And she just got here, so I’m also done being your barkeeper of the night but… I got someone who would love to meet you two?” They nodded, happily willing to move on to someone else. “EDGAR! Come’re.” He beckoned his friend who split away from Grey and Claude to approach the bar. 

“What’s up?” He asked, before turning to the ladies standing there. “Well Hello…” 

“These ladies would love some company, buy them a round?” 

Already they were flirting with each other as Edgar handed over a twenty, leading the two women away to talk with them. Curtis stashed the bill into the till and made his way to where you were. You arched a good-natured brow at him and laughed softly. “You know those were some good-looking women you passed up.” 

“Eh, I have someone a hell of a lot better waiting for me.” He shrugged as he wiped down the counter, looking every bit of relaxed as you knew him to be behind the bar. “They don't hold up to my lady, fuck no. My girl knows all the right ways to keep her man satisfied.” 

“Is that so?” You snorted in laughter at him. 

“Damn straight, what can I get you?” 

“Whatever you are having.” You threw out and he winked before turning to the wall of hard liquor. 

“Oh last time we snatched a bottle of tequila, we had a good time.” 

Paulie poked his head out from the kitchen, Santa hat perched on his head. “Not my good stuff this time Everett, I mean it!” 

This time Curtis took the bottle of Blue Label Johnny Walker whiskey, making the bar owner flip him off. “Merry Christmas Paulie.” 

Your eyes widened as he poured the two of you a healthy serving. “Are you trying to get me drunk Mr.Everett?” 

“Just to catch up to me.” He handed you a glass and clinked them together before the two of you took the shots, the lyrics to Rocking Around The Christmas Tree really starting to wind up. 

Waking the next morning proved to be difficult for both Curtis and you. You were hiding your face in his chest and Curtis had his arm slung over his eyes to keep the sunlight out. The idea of driving the hour to the cabins suddenly felt like a lot of work. 

You lifted your head first to peer up at him, licking your lips and trying to get rid of the dry mouth that drinking always brings to you when you groaned. “Curtis you broke me.” 

He groaned out too, peeking down at you from under his arm. “I broke myself. Whose idea was it to drink whiskey?” 

“Yours.” You pushed up from laying on his chest to sit next to him. Curtis let his hand fall to your back and rub slow circles while you worked on waking up, glad to see that the two of you made it upstairs into his bed at least. “Who drove us home?” 

“I think Grey and Claude dropped us off.” 

You nodded, peeking over your shoulder at him. “I’m gonna go shower, and see if that helps.” 

“Let me know if it does.” He said while you slid from the bed and he let his head drop back to the pillow, eyes closed, listening to the shower start. When he guessed you to be halfway done, he rolled out of bed, knocking a Santa hat to the floor. Picking it up, he stuffed it on his head. Tis the season after all he reasoned with himself as he went to the closet to find clothes, comfy travel-worthy clothes. Pulling on boxers as you came out, you looked reasonably more awake and ready to start the day. 

“I left you some Tylenol on the sink, guzzle some water too. It helped me.” You offered, a toothbrush sticking out of your mouth while you made a grab for some clothes. Curtis allowed himself a peek at your backside with an appreciative groan before going into the bathroom to take his own. 

You were right, the shower, water, and meds helped, and by the time he got out and brushed his own teeth, he felt like a new man. Wrapping a towel around his waist and donning the Santa hat again in the spirit, he stepped out to get changed. You were in comfy clothes, wrapped in a hoodie and sweats. You looked up from your phone, questioning. “How much of last night do you remember?” 

“Umm… “ He shrugged while drying off, grabbing his boxer briefs to slide on and then his gray sweats. “Not much why?” 

You snorted in amusement, looking back at your phone. “I wondered if you remember wearing the Santa hat on your dick.” 

“What?” He exclaimed while falling on the bed next to you and looking at your phone. Sure enough there he was, standing in the bed with the Santa hat perched on his cock. “Fucking hell Y/N, this isn't the kind of pictures I expected us to ever take.” He groaned, falling back onto the mattress. “What else is in there?” 

“Nothing, just a few of us messing around in what looks like Grey's backseat and some bar pictures. Nothing as good as you using Santa's hat inappropriately.” You checked your messages, seeing Claude assured you that your car was in the driveway but you two would have to go pick up Curtis’s truck from Paulies. You thanked her, asking what else happened but she said nothing, you all had a great time although you and Curtis did get thoroughly drunk. “I think…” You said, reaching over to grab the hat. “We should take this with us to the cabin.” 

“You want another show?” 

“Maybe, one I will remember. I mean…if I got my own Chippendales, I wanna remember it.” You laughed as he tickled your sides, pulling you down beside him. 

“What if I wanna see you wear it? Be my sexy Mrs. Claus.” He wiggled his brows suggestively, making you snort as you pushed against his chest to make him go back to laying down. 

“You need more than a hat.” 

“Yeah, a bow. So I can unwrap you.” 

“Maybe that will be your Christmas present?” 

“God I hope so!” Curtis grinned wickedly, tilting in close and pressing his lips to yours, stealing away any other smart remark you may have had at the moment.

[onegianthotmess]

I made Dannie a semi-boyfriend!!!

Meet Raymond “Ray” Claire-Blanc! He is fourteen and goes to school with Danielle, who’s one of his only friends because she talked to him one day when they were little, think about four to five, and has been superglued to his hip since that day!

Ray is the son of the mayor of Clock Town and it is said that the Claire-Blanc family founded the town and that they’ve always governed it in order to keep it as efficient and as punctual as possible! Once, someone outside of the family was mayor and the town went into so much chaos that the new mayor only lasted five days before handing it over to the member of the Claire-Blanc family he ran and rigged the election against.

Though he is an excellent leader and has shown that he holds his family’s gift for running things and being the one in charge, Ray has very high anxiety and low self esteem that makes it very difficult for him to put his foot down on a lot of things that relate to personal comfort. He’s sat in on city council meetings and has been able to run projects and help organize events, but he can’t say no to an outing or socializing because that doesn’t deal with leading people, it deals with his own emotions and comfort levels and he isn’t very good at being firm with those. But Dannie’s helping him work on it!

Ray can also be incredibly forgetful, which doesn’t help with his anxiety, especially when he forgets something and it causes him to be late. Even being a second late makes Ray panic because he could’ve missed something very crucial in that moment when he was late, or something could’ve happened that he could’ve helped to prevent, or all of his friends could die and he’d never be able to say goodbye! In short, Ray hates being forgetful and if it makes him late, he gets a million times more anxious and panicky.

Also, in relation to his forgetfulness, Ray almost always forgets his gloves whenever he leaves the house. He usually likes wearing them because they’re comforting to wear for him, but they’re almost always left on his bedside table. He never remembers to grab them or to put them in another place in order to make it easier to remember to grab them when he leaves the house.

Ray’s also really shy when it comes to meeting people individually. He can do public speaking, but individual socializing freaks him out a bit. He’s also shy about some things, like his interests or hobbies or compliments or who he likes. If any of these are mentioned to him, he goes as red as the rose bushes in his mother’s garden! And when he’s around Dannie the blushing is a hundred times worse. But Dannie is a cute dummy like her brother and is incredibly dense, so she never really notices!

And now let’s have a few fun facts about Ray because I’m getting tired!

Ray is a vegetarian! He doesn’t really like meat and it makes his stomach feel funny and cramp up, which is sort of a family curse. So he eats plant based alternatives to meat that taste pretty close to the real thing so he isn’t dealing with constant tummy pains. Also his favorite dessert is carrot cake with cream cheese frosting with some candied carrots on top.

Ray’s eyesight is really bad, so he wears really strong prescription glasses and sits at the front of class so he can always be sure that he can see. But to make sure that he always has the time, even if he can see the clock in the room, Ray has a pocket watch that he holds very dear to his heart because it was his late great uncle who gave it to him when he was about to turn seven years old. Keeping that pocket watch with him not only quells some of his punctuality anxiety, but also makes him happy that he has something of his great uncle’s with him at all times.

Ray is also very fast and is the best runner on the track team. Despite his lean muscle, he’s pretty athletic and surprises a lot of people with his speed and agility.

Overall, Ray a pretty nice person, though he’s anxious and shy. He’s a great leader and wants to ask Dannie out, but he needs to learn to not chicken out at the last second when he works up the nerve to think about asking her-

[envihellbender]

Looking down into a pit and seeing only fat

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Colton Drake, Jonathan Sims

Content: extreme weight gain, monstrously fat, cult

—

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ARCHIVIST

Statement of Colton Drake, regarding his experience with the infamous cult La Graisse Bénie. Original statement given February 21st 2015. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

Before I get started, if La Graisse Bénie find out about this I’ll deny every word. If the police or journalists come to me I’ll say you made the whole thing up. I’m not here to get anyone arrested, for people to know my story, or anything. I’m here because if I’m right, then the same might be happening here. Maybe you can stop the weird supernatural shit before it gets too far. If it’s all false then I guess we have nothing to worry about. I’d like to now the end result anyway, maybe it would give me some peace of mind. I don’t know if you deal with anything overseas but you might deal with how it’s spread, I guess. I don’t know. Guess I should get on with it, eh?

I was in the La Graisse Bénie cult from around seven to sixteen. I was actually born in Canterbury, dad’s family have been here for generations and my mum’s came over from the Philippines. It was three days before my birthday before we up and left for France, I threw such a tantrum over missing my party, my school, and my friends. Dad gave me the belt whilst mum packed our things. I mean, maybe I was being a brat but they didn’t warn us. My big brother Alder was fourteen and was pretty ecstatic about it, I didn’t get it at first but he was really, really into the sect’s bullshit. He was the youngest Elder they ever had. When he was seventeen he had my dad bending at the knee and kissing his feet. Alder always loved making him do stuff like that, he was such a creep. Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself. So, our mum and dad up and moves us to France. We get a really nice big apartment, it had six bedrooms, three bathrooms, a playroom- man, we weren’t poor in England but we had a two bedroom house where me and Alder had bunk beds. Mum was a cleaner and dad worked at Waitrose. In hindsight the fact they had the money for the sudden move and such a nice place was pretty dodgy.

As a kid I didn’t see it that way, I mean I was pretty stoked at first to have my own bedroom and playroom, but the flat was so empty. And our new school was… weird. You know the Catacombs, right? Well, it turned out our flat building had a lift that went all the way down to a space inside them - the Chapel, we called it. That’s where all the bad cult shit happened, that’s where we were schooled, we were allowed to associate with any kids who didn’t live in the flat building. We were used as slaves, essentially. My brother fucking loved it, he loved tormenting everyone younger than him and his charm and beautiful face meant he got away with it. The cult shit was bad. But… I mean, I don’t think it was supernatural. So I guess you’ll find out about that if I’m ever on a crime documentary. The thing was we… Okay so, the thing we worshipped. It lived beneath us. It didn’t speak, the Elders just claimed they heard its requests through the walls. Alder he put me on feeding duty when I turned thirteen, well duty so I saw it. And he said that was an honour, he called it the Feeding Honour. And told me that no one else got that. Didn’t feel like a fucking honour.

So what I had to do, was go downstairs, really far downstairs. There was this dank room with a door like one to a garage. I was to open it and all the contents of it would go down into a pit. Now the pit… that was the worst. I tried not to look at first, but curiosity got the better of me. I climbed over the fence and looked down… and I can’t explain why it horrified me so much. But beneath me was a gigantic face.

It took a while to figure out that’s what it was. But there were bloated lips, lips that were each bigger than me as a skinny thirteen year old. Fat bloated cheeks that were only partially in view, a bloated forehead that hung over its eyes… It was just a disgusting, enormous pile of fat. And the whole into the pit? That was double the size of a jeep. Its head took up the entire fucking space. I stared at it for long enough that it began to grown, maybe it was looking at me but fat covered its eyes completely. It just began groaning, something that sounded vaguely like ‘food’. I opened the garage door, and I looked at all the meat, fish, and god knows what else - it stank so bad - be funnelled into his gaping maw. I ran upstairs. Ran so fast my chest ached and I couldn’t fucking breathe.

When I saw Alder he was delighted. He said he knew, that the blessed fat beneath the earth spoke to me. I threw up, I threw up my breakfast and lunch and all of the bile in my stomach. Of course, I got punished for that, for desecrating the temple. It was then I knew I had to leave. Because it wasn’t… No human could get that big. No person could survive like- anyway, this isn’t going to sound believable but- my job here, in London. I do maintenance for the tube, late at night and that noise I heard? It’s there. I heard it. I don’t know how or why but if you can do something you need to. See, people started disappearing from the temple. They’ll start vanishing here too.

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends.

Well, that was quite the story. Nothing like a good cult to bring up psychosis and hysteria. It’s sad really. I’ve no doubt this young man who has suffered greatly at the hands of a cult, so much so that his mind played tricks on him, maybe hid something horrendous. The Paris catacombs are especially known for these sorts of delusions and he would’ve spent a grave amount of time in there. Martin insisted on handling this one, seems that Mister Drake was quite chatty and they seem to be on very friendly terms. Of course Martin believes him, he always does… One point he did make, of course I will never admit that there may be some truth to this - especially not to him, is that noise in the tube that Mister Drake reported had been something that had been going on for a while. Several different people have told the police about a strange noise, and two different companies have been asked to investigate a problem with the train tracks or sewer system. They too heard it, a strange guttural sound. They put it down to an odd natural phenomena and well, that’s what they say about Leitners, isn’t it?

Recording ends.

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