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thisapplepielife · 3 months ago

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Written for a @astrangersummer.

Tip Your Driver

Of all the shitty service jobs Steve's had, this one is definitely among the worst.

And he's been stuck working some pretty shitty jobs over the years, both before and after they moved out here. If he hadn't hated the one at the shoe store so much, because ew feet, he wouldn't be doing this in the first place. At least that was in one location, a steady paycheck, and not that far from their apartment. But, he didn't know that feet draw in some weirdos, so here he is, lugging other people's shit around, because he needs the money.

He just sighs as he pulls up in front of the address on the app. He double checks the posted numbers over the garage, and it seems to be the right place. Everything matches enough for him to call it good.

The house is really nice.

It's not in The Hills or anything, so he hadn't expected something so nice.

Now, Steve doesn't mind delivering groceries, not really, but this guy, Eddie it says, ordered a bunch of heavy shit, and the tip was only the mediocre bare minimum. Which, he wasn't that mad about, until right now, after he's seen the house this guy lives in.

No, now he's pretty annoyed.

Whatever. Par for the fucking course from Fancy Pants Rich McGee over here. How the hell you spell chauffeur? Chauffeur. Indeed. Maybe he should make tiktoks about situations just like this. Robin keeps hounding him, saying if he'd just do it, that he could rake in a little extra cash.

He's skeptical.

Steve looks back at the house.

Oh well. He left his money behind for a reason, the only thing he kept was his car because his parents were dumb enough to put it in his name. And honestly? It does him no good to be jealous or whatever the fuck he's feeling right now.

At least this guy had been responsive, and pretty nice, when answering Steve's messages about substitutions and out of stock items. Not everybody is, unfortunately, acting as if Steve is the one stocking the store himself.

Steve opens the back hatch of his car, and leans in to grab the first items to be left at the door, as requested. If they don't see you, they feel less bad about the shitty tip, Steve's learned.

But it's fine. Steve doesn't want to deal with anyone face-to-face today, anyway. Because he needs to hurry. He and Robin are already a couple days late on rent, and he's gotta try to make up the difference today. If not, they're gonna be fucking screwed. Why is this city so goddamn expensive to live in? It's bullshit.

"Let me help," comes the voice right next to him, and Steve jumps, hitting his head on the open hatch door.

Now, he's skipped over annoyed and has been vaulted straight into pissed off.

Partly at himself for being so far in his own head that he didn't even hear this guy approaching, but mainly at this asshole for even being in his personal space in the first place. He needs to take about three big steps back.

"Oh, fuck! Sorry! I didn't mean to startle you!" the guy shouts, and Steve hasn't even seen this asshole yet, but he knows he hates him.

"Most people don't help unload the car," Steve snaps, turning to look at him, and the guy is looking back at him with big, big brown eyes. Robin would call them doe eyes, without a doubt. Well, fuck. Fine. Steve softens his tone, "It's okay. I just wasn't expecting you."

"Sorry," Eddie says again, still too close. "I'm Eddie. I ordered the groceries. Can I help? Please?"

Steve nods, and lets him reach in and grab his own case of water, while Steve picks up a few of the sacks. It's the least the guy can do, now that he's given him a headache. Literally.

Steve carries the sacks towards the porch, and leans over to put them down.

"Just come on in," Eddie says, and the door swings open, banging against the rubber doorstop on the wall.

"Don't bang the door!" comes the yell from the other room, and Steve peers into the house and sees an older guy sitting in a lift chair, with a walker in front of him.

"It's my door, old man, I'll bang it if I want to!" Eddie yells back, but there's no heat there. Steve can hear the teasing affection in his voice, and Steve can't help but smile.

"Don't come crying to me when there's a hole in your wall. Can you patch drywall? Because I can't right now," the guy, probably Eddie's dad the way they're bickering, snaps.

Eddie ignores the question from his dad.

"C'mon, this way," Eddie says, looking over his shoulder at Steve, as Steve lingers on the step.

Well, no. That's not. You don't go in stranger's houses. It's, like, rule one. And just good common sense. Which apparently Steve has none of, because he does follow Eddie into the house.

Robin will kill him, if this Eddie dude doesn't kill him first.

Steve puts the bags down on the counter, and heads back out to make another trip, Eddie following, "That's my uncle. He's just crotchety that he had to have his broken hip replaced, and now he's dependent on me for the near future."

Steve laughs, "Well, maybe don't bang the door and he won't be crotchety."

"You heard me. It's my door," Eddie says, smiling wide. He's pretty, very pretty. Long, dark hair tied up on top of his head, and heavy tattoos all along his arms, creeping up onto his neck.

He's honestly gorgeous.

Steve wonders if he's famous. He doesn't look familiar, but he looks like he could be famous. And his house is pretty fucking nice. This is L.A. Everybody is somehow famous in L.A. Except for Steve and Robin. They are definitely not famous.

Unless he's a tech bro? But he doesn't really look the type.

Either way, famous or not, Steve smiles back, can't not, not when he looks like that, then asks, teasing him, "Well do you know how to patch drywall?"

"Fuck no. But I could hire someone to fix it if the door knob somehow gets through the stopper."

"Well, at least you have a plan," Steve says, and Eddie laughs.

"He just hates the city. Hates my house. Hates everything. Except me. He loves me," Eddie says, as he grabs a case of Gatorade in one hand and the case of pork and beans in the other.

That's a lot of beans.

"That's a lot of beans," Steve says aloud, even if he doesn't mean to, even if he knows better than to comment on other people's groceries.

But Eddie laughs. "Tell me about it. Man likes what he likes, though. There's no changing him now."

Steve nods, grabbing another handful himself. It's nice that Eddie is taking care of his uncle.

"I'm not usually home much, hence all the groceries being ordered at once. Sorry about that. The cabinets were pretty bare, and I just didn't want to leave him home alone. He's still a fall risk, even if he keeps insisting he's not."

"That's okay, I understand. Big orders are more common than you'd think," Steve says, stepping back into the house that he's probably not going to get murdered in, thankfully.

Big orders are common, he's not lying about that, and more often than not, the tips offered for shopping hundreds of items, are less than you'd think. So, this order wasn't even out of the ordinary. Not really. That's why Steve took it. Some pay was better than none, especially today, that's for sure.

"Still. I'm grateful. You saved my ass today, man," Eddie answers.

"Well, it's my job," Steve says, and Eddie laughs.

They finish bringing everything in, and Steve nods at Eddie, "Okay. I think that does it."

"Here," Eddie says, and plucks an envelope off the counter, "I always worry that your tips in the app will get eaten up by the corporate assholes taking their cut off the top. So. Cash is king."

Steve takes the envelope. A tip he doesn't have to report? Why thank you, Eddie.

"Thank you. You didn't have to do this, or help bring it in, you know? But I appreciate both."

Eddie smiles, "Thank you for getting all that shit for us. We both appreciate it. Don't we Wayne?"

Wayne grumbles, but Steve's pretty sure he doesn't appreciate anything right now. He knows he wouldn't either, if he had broken his hip.

They say their goodbyes, and that's that. Steve will never see Eddie with the pretty eyes ever again.

At the next red light, Steve opens the envelope, expecting an extra ten or twenty bucks, maybe, but is shocked to see that there are three, insanely crisp one hundred dollar bills inside.

Holy shit.

That's way more than he usually makes in a single day. Two days, even. Just by delivering one order that he didn't think was gonna pay well at all.

And he got to look at a hot dude for a minute or two.

It's enough to cover what they were short on the rent, even. It might not have felt like a lot of money to Eddie, if he handed it over so readily, but it feels life-changing to Steve, right now. He remembers when three hundred bucks wasn't anything to him either, back when he had access to all his parents' money and all their unhappiness.

Now, it's different.

Robin's gonna shit.

Hot damn.

Thank you, Eddie.

"Booyah," Steve says, slapping the envelope on the counter.

Robin picks it up, and thumbs through it. It has Eddie's tip, and the few extra bucks he picked up during the rest of the day.

"Oh my god, no way! Where did you get this much cash, dingus? Are you turning tricks on the side now?" Robin asks, and Steve laughs.

"Yes. I thought I'd see what I could get for this ass," Steve says, turning and pushing his ass outwards in her direction.

She doesn't even look, but says, "Honestly, you might be worth more than this, as much as I hate to admit it," she comments dryly, and he smiles.

"No, some rich dude that ordered a bunch of heavy shit gave me a big tip," Steve explains.

"That's what she said," Robin teases, and her eyes are still wide as she looks at the bills in her hand, "Seriously, though. Thank you, rich, old dude," Robin says.

"Rich, but not old. I think he might have been famous in some way. YouTuber? Musician? I don't know. Nice house."

"Well. Describe him. Let's Google him," Robin says, wiggling her fingers in the air like she's stretching before this big task she's about to undertake.

Steve isn't sure searching for him is gonna work, but he lets her try, "Eddie. Probably a little older than us. Lots of tattoos."

"Was it Eddie Vedder? Please tell me you know who Eddie Vedder is, dingus?"

He knows who Eddie Vedder is, Jesus.

He gives her a look, "Not that old. And he was heavily tattooed. Is Eddie Vedder tattooed? Plus, this guy had dark eyes. Really dark. And no flannel."

She keeps looking on her phone, showing him options, "Him?"

No.

"Him?"

No.

"Him?"

"No. Not him." None of them are. Nobody she shows him is the same guy. So, he thinks of all the famous Eddies he knows of.

"Was it Eddie Van Halen?" Steve asks.

"Since he's dead, probably not," Robin says.

"Oh," Steve says. He didn't remember that. And he'd be too old, anyway. "We're looking for someone that looks kinda like young Eddie Van Halen. But with tattoos."

"You're obsessed with the tattoos. Was it Ed Sheeran? He has lots of tattoos," Robin asks, and he rolls his eyes.

"Robin. I think I know what Ed Sheeran looks like. This man was not ginger. Dark hair, dark eyes. And he was American. Maybe this guy is just rich? Not famous at all. It doesn't matter. I'll never see him again, anyway. We'll just thank him from afar for saving our asses today."

Robin sighs heavily, and puts her phone down, "If you'd got yourself a rich boyfriend we'd have it made all the time."

"Well, I'll work on that," he says sarcastically.

At least for now, they can pay another month's rent. That's a big win. Huge.

Maybe they can keep their heads above water, now.

And they do, by some sort of miracle. It was only three hundred bucks, but that was enough of a windfall to get them back in the black. And somehow they've stayed ahead since, for nearly two whole months. They haven't been this stable financially since they arrived in town.

Today, Steve flips through the different apps he drives for, trying to decide what order to take, when he sees a huge pizza order. The order is absurdly big, but the tip is decent, and picking up a stack of pizzas is infinitely easier than shopping a whole-ass grocery list. Steve's just seriously questioning if it'll all fit in his car.

He's gonna risk it.

Luckily, it does, but there are pizza boxes piled high in every seat and the rear. He definitely doesn't have hot bags for all of them. Hopefully he doesn't get caught in traffic.

The area seems familiar, but when Steve pulls up in front of the house, he knows why. Eddie. Only, the last time it was groceries, not food, that he delivered here.

There are vehicles everywhere. Clearly some sort of party, Steve thinks, to require this amount of pizza. And as soon as Steve steps out of the car, Eddie is out of the house, being trailed by three other, mostly leather-clad, guys. It'd look threatening, if Eddie wasn't smiling so big.

"Steve! When I saw Steve was my driver, I was like, maybe? But Steve's a common name, and there was no picture, so I didn't get my hopes up, but hey! It is you!" Eddie shouts, moving to the back of the car, "Watch your head this time, sweetheart," Eddie adds, and Steve is sure he's blushing.

He just stands there kind of dumbly, watching as Eddie commandeers his order right out of Steve's vehicle. Eddie's definitely unusual.

Eddie hands stack after stack of pizzas to the waiting guys, making them carry the bulk of it. And Steve watches as they ferry them off towards the house, Steve not having to even lift a finger this time.

Now, it's just him and Eddie standing on the curb.

Eddie holds out an envelope, and Steve looks at it.

"Man, thank you, but you tipped so well last time, you really don't have to again."

"I want to. You provide a service, I want to pay for that service," Eddie says, shaking the envelope, and Steve reluctantly takes it. Whatever is inside, will really help him and Robin stay ahead. It did last time. He's not really in a position to say no, even as well as they are doing at the moment.

"Thank you, truly," Steve says, tucking it into his pocket, "How's your Uncle Wayne's hip?"

Eddie smiles, so fucking wide, "You remembered! He's good. Great. Headed home soon, which I'm certain he's thrilled about. He's definitely never coming here again. I'll have to go home when I want to see him."

Steve laughs, "Glad to hear he's better, if annoyed."

"Do you want to stay?" Eddie asks, "We're having a little going away party for him. The more the merrier. Or, is your shift not over? You could come back?"

Steve doesn't have a shift, he can clock in and out to take orders as he pleases, and right now he'd really like to accept Eddie's offer. Even if it's probably just Eddie being polite. A pity ask, if you will.

"You don't have to invite your delivery driver into your house, you know? I could be a murderer."

"Unlikely," Eddie says, "and I'm not inviting my delivery driver. I'm inviting you, Steve."

Steve thinks over the options, and then nods. He can go in for a bit. If he's uncomfortable, he can get right back on the clock, no harm, no foul.

"Okay, let me park," Steve says, and he does just that. Putting the envelope of cash into the glove box without opening it. He doesn't want Eddie to see him scrounging through it. That feels tacky.

The pizza boxes are already open on every available flat surface in the kitchen and living room, and Eddie shoves a paper plate into Steve's hands, "Eat. Drink. Be merry."

Steve nods, and grabs a slice from the nearest box. He's not picky.

The house is full of people, and a lot of them seem vaguely famous. Like this is an industry thing, instead of a going away party for an old man with a newly not-broken hip.

Steve's worked enough of these events. They tried the catering thing for a while, and it was fine, for Steve anyway. Robin was just a little too clumsy to carry trays of dainty hors d'oeuvres around rooms filled with beautiful women in expensive dresses.

This isn't any of that though. This is cases of beer being chilled in kiddie pools, and dozens of pizzas. Fancy house, but not a fancy party. Steve spots Eddie's uncle sitting by himself on a couch, a beer resting on his knee and a paper plate of pizza on the arm rest.

Nobody else is sitting by him, so Steve goes over, "Can I sit?"

Wayne grumbles something that could be yes, could be no, Steve's not wholly sure, but he chooses to go ahead and sit down beside him.

"How's your hip?" Steve asks.

"Who are you?" Wayne asks, looking at him, suspicious.

"Steve. Uh, a delivery driver? I've brought a couple orders to you guys now. And Eddie invited me to stay."

Wayne nods, and goes back to his plate, "Hip's fine. Ready to go home."

"Where's home?" Steve asks, and he's not sure why. Clearly this man has no interest in making small talk with him.

"Indiana," Wayne says.

"Hey! For me, too. Small world."

"What're you doing in California, then?" Wayne asks. "Trying to get into show biz?"

"No. No way," Steve laughs, "Not for me. Uh, my best friend? Robin? She wanted to move out here. Wanted an adventure. And I wanted her to be happy. So. Here we are."

Wayne nods.

"Did you break your hip in Indiana and Eddie dragged you all the way out here?" Steve asks.

"No," Wayne answers, "I came to visit him and broke my hip before I got out of the airport. This is why I don't take vacations."

Steve smiles, "That's bad luck. Sorry."

Wayne nods his head, and Steve assumes that's the end of this conversation, and they sit in silence for a few moments.

"You're Steve? The one that brought the groceries a few weeks ago?" Wayne asks.

"That's me," Steve confirms.

"He's been talking about you non-stop. I was like, just order more groceries. So, he tried. It was never you. Now we have more food than he'll ever eat. Probably need to take it to the food pantry."

Steve grins, looking down at his plate. He isn't sure what Eddie would want to see him for. They definitely aren't on the same level.

Eddie is across the room, talking wildly with his hands.

"He's a good kid," Wayne says, quietly, "All this? Not him. Not all of him, anyway."

Steve looks back at Wayne, "What do you mean?"

"All this fancy shit. I'm proud of him that their music has done so well. But he's a good kid. And he just wants to be happy."

"Don't we all," Steve says.

"People take advantage. If you're here for the money, for the fame. Just. Move on. Eddie would give it to you. But he wants something more. Needs it, I think."

Steve thinks he could be something more. But he doesn't really have anything to offer Eddie in return, and maybe heeding Wayne's warning wouldn't be such a bad idea. What business does he have getting involved with a famous musician? None.

"Got it," Steve says. "Well, I'm glad your hip healed."

Wayne grumbles at that, and it makes Steve smile.

Steve puts his trash in the can, and looks around. The hallways are lined with platinum records, news articles, and he leans close to read the name. Eddie Munson. Corroded Coffin. He's never heard of them. He'll have to look them up on Spotify.

He doesn't belong here.

He takes one last look at Eddie.

Eddie Munson of Corroded Coffin.

He tries to memorize his name, his band, so he can tell Robin later, solving their little mystery.

And then he ducks out of the front door, walking down the long driveway towards his car.

"Hey, Steve! Wait!" Eddie yells from behind him, and Steve slows.

"Hey, man. Thanks for having me," Steve says, turning to look at him.

"You're leaving already?"

Steve nods, "Work, you know."

Eddie nods, "Okay. Well. Come back. Anytime."

"Thanks, Eddie," Steve says, because he's pretty sure Eddie means that, "Enjoy your party. I'm glad Wayne's hip is good as new."

Steve turns to keep walking.

"Steve. Uh," Eddie says, and Steve considers pretending he didn't hear him. It'd be easy. The music is loud, probably pissing off the neighbors, but Eddie keeps talking. "Listen. I like you. Yeah, I know. I barely know you. But. We got good vibes, man. Can you not feel that?" Eddie asks, and when Steve turns to look back at him, he sees that Eddie's hands are shoved deep into his pockets.

He looks nervous.

He's famous, clearly rich, and beautiful. He could have anyone he wants. But he looks nervous talking to Steve. Who delivered the pizza. Make it make sense. Goddamn.

"Eddie," Steve says.

"Do you not feel it? If you don't, I'll leave you alone. I swear. But if you do…"

Steve nods, "I do. But I'm a delivery driver. I live in a tiny apartment that I share with my best friend. We barely make ends meet. You could have anyone. Why would you want me?"

"Because I like you," Eddie says, "and I want to get to know you. I didn't grow up with anything either. I'm not old money. I'm new money. Brand new. So. I'm not that out of touch yet."

Steve smiles. He's old money, he just doesn't have access to it anymore. Eddie's new money, and doesn't know how to handle it. They'd be quite the pair.

Eddie keeps talking, trying to wheedle a date out of him, "Just. Let me take you out. Just us. Let's see if there's anything here," he says, motioning his hand between the two of them.

Steve wants to, he really does.

"Okay," Steve finally says, "nothing fancy. A normal date."

"We can definitely do that," Eddie says, and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone. "Let me give you my number."

Steve rattles off his number, Eddie texts him, and it buzzes against Steve's thigh. Already coming through, showing he's serious.

"Dinner? Movie? Bar? You name it," Eddie offers, eyes never leaving Steve's.

"Dinner's good. Nowhere fancy, though," Steve warns.

"Do I look like I like fancy places?" Eddie asks, looking down at his own clothes.

And Steve's eyes cut back to the gorgeous house.

Eddie laughs, "Fair enough. But I don't."

"Can you go out in public? Or are you too famous?" Steve asks. "I'm not familiar with your band, sorry."

Eddie laughs, "I think I like that you aren't, sweetheart. That means that maybe you like me, just for me. And I can go out. Nobody cares about me all that much."

Steve nods. Alright. They can go on one date, and see how it goes.

Well. That's how it goes.

Very, very well.

So well, that Steve's now satisfied and loose in Eddie's bed, when Eddie laughs, rolling into Steve's shoulder, face pressed to his skin. Lips kissing his shoulder, biting at him gently. Playing with him.

"What?" Steve asks, smiling as Eddie slides his hand into his, squeezing. "What's so funny."

"I tipped my driver," Eddie chokes out, laughing around each word, pressing his crotch into Steve's thigh.

Steve laughs, looking down at this ridiculous man clinging to him, "That you did. And damn well."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun!

#a stranger summer #week fifteen #prompt: modern au #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #wayne munson #stranger things fic #robin buckley #stranger things 4 #steddie #platonic stobin #steve x eddie #thisapplepielife: short fic #thisapplepielife: a stranger summer

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akumakosuke · 9 months ago

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T.w: Subbot Amab Kento Nanami x Topdom Amab reader. Breeding kink, overstimulation, size kink (kinda), multiple orgasms, creampie, praise, degradation, cock warming, feminization (calling Kento's hole a pussy), fluffy aftercare.

P.s this has been in my drafts forever!! I completely forgot about it until someone reminded me!

I'm actually going feral right now.

I watched the new episode of JJK last night and good lord MAPPA fed me a full course meal drinks included.

Did you see my husband's looking all sexy and oh so fucking breedable?

I'm writing a separate post for Toji, someone sent me a request for breeding Sugar baby Toji and I'm working on it, this is all about my love, my darling, my glorious Nanami Kento. (I still have the Toji one in the works)

Like most men I crave I literally want to marry Nanami and make him my house husband.

I want to just keep him at home (full of my cum) and take care of him, provide for him mind, body and spirit. I want to make him feel safe, loved, cared for, appreciated, needed and genuinely wanted.

I want to come home from a long ass day of running a huge company, completely exhausted and wanting nothing more than my big strong man in my arms.

I would open the door and immediately be woken up by the most amazing smelling dinner and most importantly a fresh loaf of Kento's favourite thing ever, bread.

I would feel all the tension, anger and tiredness melt away as I closed the door, finally got to take off my shoes and coat.

I would place my bag down and when I look up it would be as if God themselves came down to this meaningless float rock we call Earth and blessed me, a nobody with an Angel of my own.

He would stand there in all his glory, his broad shoulders that seem to relax in my presence, those huge pecs that always seem to fit perfectly in my hands, that slim waist that I know for a fact is still bruised from last night, those muscular thighs that could definitely crush my skull, those veiny hands that used to be so dangerous, he hated that, hold me with such gentle touches.

I would smile and he would try not to, as usual keeping up with his ‘i'm always serious because I'm mature’ act that he puts on as a facade, he and I both know he's just a big softie that genuinely cares about his friends and will do anything to protect them.

I would say something cheesy like “Honey I'm home.” with a smirk because I know he hates those dumb romantic comedies.

His smile would instantly fade and he would roll his eyes and mumble “Idiot.” and walk away.

I would laugh and follow him inside, then with a teasing tone say something like “You're supposed to say ‘Welcome back Dear.’ and then kiss me.”

He would ignore me as usual and change the subject “Go wash your hands they're filthy and I baked a new type of bread, the lady at the bakery gave me the recipe.”

I would come out of the bathroom with freshly washed hands and take a seat at the dinner table and say something like “Yeah, smells good hun.”

He would hum in acknowledgement he's listening and bring over the delicious food he cooked and his new bread then place them on the table.

Then he would stand over me with his hands on his hips causing me to -on not normally casual settings- look up at him in confusion.

He would then place an arm on my chair and turn it, making me fully face him and I would happily admire the view.

He's wearing grey sweatpants and a black swear shirt with that cute pink apron I bought him that says kiss the cook.

I would smirk knowing he only wore that because his normal plain black aprons mysteriously disappeared when the pink one showed up.

He would then tangle his thick hands in my hair, suddenly tugging on it and making me groan in pain, the action immediately makes blood rush to my dick.

He would force me to look up at him and with that ever so stern expression say something fucking hot like “Now that you've washed your hands, didn't you read the apron?”

Then he would give me no time to respond as he leans forward and roughly captures my lips in a heated kiss.

I would easily give in and let him do what he wants, this always happens. In the beginning Kento takes charge, he knows exactly what to do to get me hard enough to fuck his pretty brain dumb.

Kento is a smart man, he knows how to get what he wants. He knows what he's doing when he straddle my lap.

Those thick thighs would flex around mine, squeezing me as his crotch 'accidently' grinds against mine.

He would tighten his grip on my hair, bringing his other arm around my shoulders and deepen the kiss, mumbling a fake apology, as if he doesn't want me to fuck him.

My hands would instinctively find his waist, I would say something like “Don't apologize love, take responsibility Kento.” then I would squeeze his waist and grind his plump ass on my fully hard dick.

He would moan and kiss me deeper, then he would start to roll his hips without my help. The friction from the fabric against our hard length sends shocks of pleasure through our entire bodies but it's not enough.

Then while Kento would be kissing me, his hand around my shoulder would travel down my chest and tug at my belt. Kento would let out a needy and frustrated grunt when my belt doesn't come off instantly.

He's not fucked out enough to be whining in desperation, no I'll have to work hard and drain those beautiful sounds out of him.

One of my hands would quickly travel to my belt, undoing it with ease. Then I would undo his belt, neither of us breaking the ruthless kiss or grinding.

We would unzip each others pants and I would easily lift both of our weights and slip my pants and boxers off, Kento would stand and take off his pants and boxers.

We would groan into the kiss as the cold air of our house brushes against both our erections, both our lengths hard already leaking bits of precum.

Both of us are still sensitive from last night/ this morning but we can't get enough of each other, it's like a drug it turned into an addiction..

It's not just fucking, it's the intimate act of sex, exposing yourself, allowing yourself to be vulnerable and connect on a level more than just our bodies.

He would straddle my lap again and his hand would waste no time and start pumping our lengths against each other.

The only sounds would be our aggressive kiss and the slick sound of Kento fisting both our lengths together with the aid of our pre.

My hands would dig into his fleshy ships, god the muscle will feel hard like marble but his skin would be soft like a fucking cloud.

He would moan into the sloppy, open mouth kiss and I would devour each and every honey dipped noise that falls out of his pretty little mouth.

My huge dick would be throbbing against his, his own length is an impressive 7 inches mine about 3 inches bigger.

It's not a big difference but my baby Kento is a big boy, I would just be a bit bigger but strong enough to pick him up and fuck him till he can't walk anymore.

Then Kento would lift himself off my hips and align my dick with his already prepped hole, then he would waste no time and slam himself back down on my entire length.

Fuck, his hands would instinctively latch onto my hair for some stability, loud moans and pretty whimpers would fall out of his mouth like a waterfall straight from heaven.

My hard length would twitch in pure bliss, surrounded by his soft, velvety walls, sucking me in and holding me hostage with a vice like grip, no matter how many times we fuck he's still as tight as a fucking virgin.

My tip would be poking and prodding at Kento's prostate dead on causing him to cum just from impaling himself on my dick.

Kento's thighs would flex around mine, his hole would tighten and he would pull my hair back, detaching from my lips just for his jaw to go slack and his toes curl as thick ropes of cum spurt out of his red rip, onto both our chests.

Kento would have a fucked out expression, his brain already fuzzy from cumming just once, his eyes would glaze over with tears, he's always been a cryer during sex, not that I'm complaining fuck I love it when he cries.

Kento doesn't cry about anything, he hates crying, the only time he cries is when he's too fucked out to think straight.

The pride of a cumming, crying Kento would straight to my dick as my grip on his hips tighten, bringing him back to reality.

Kento's vision would start to focus on me and he would see a devious smile, to anyone it would look sweet, loving almost but Kento knows it's anything but.

“Did you just cum?” I would ask in a mocking tone, bucking my hips up suddenly sending shocks of pleasure through Kento's body as more pathetic ropes of cum would spurt out from his still hard dick.

He would moan and try to shake his head, his grip on my hair would loosen and his hands would drop to my shoulders, fat tears would stream down his face as he would attempt to apologize “N–No! Fuc-k ’m s-sorry! Sorry~ AHH ah~ nghh~ s-sorr– ah ah ah– sorry.. ’m sorry~ ngh~”

He would mumble out his thoughtless apology, leaning down and kissing my neck, sucking, licking and biting as an attempt to make up for his transgressions.

I would scoff knowing his apology means nothing and let him keep mouthing at my neck, I would ignore my aching dick, it feels like my dick is gonna melt, it's so good.

I would lean in a pepper Kento's neck with gentle kisses, giving him a false sense that i'm not going to punish him then I would say something reassuring like “It's okay love, you don't have to apologize.”

He would continue sobbing and marking my neck, switching to 'thank you's' instead of 'sorry', his eyes would widen when he feels my smirk against his neck and my hands lifting his hips, slowly pulling out my dick inch by inch making him whine.

I would press my lips just below his ear and whisper “Just be a good husband and take your punishment~.” then without warning slam him back down on my length making both of us moan.

Kento would let out a high pitch moan, his body slumping forward, his head resting against my shoulder, his fingers tangling in my hair as tears streaming down his pretty face, his toes curling as incoherent and broken moans fall out of his mouth as I lift him up and slam him back down on my length over and over again.

I would groan as his hole suck's my entire length in every time I pull out till just the tip and slam him back, his warm, wet gummy walls would fit my entire length perfectly, the perfect cock sleeve and he's all mine.

That very thought would make me go crazy as I tighten my grip on his hips and slam him down once more, my tip prodding his prostrate dead on making his head fall back as his jaw falls slack and a strangled moan tries to escape his lips but no sound comes out. Fucking glorious.

“Fuck– such a good slut- taking all of me without complaining, such a whore, my whore~.” I would groan out, rutting my hips upwards so the tip of my cock massages Kentos prostrate, making his brain completely switch off.

“AH~! FUCK- NGH~ MMMHM~ C-CAN'T~! T-too mUch~! S-So gooood~! Ah~ FUCK- P-please~! Wanna CUM! P-PLEASE GOD! LeMme cUm~! WAnNa cuM~ PLEASE SIR~! F-fill me up~! FUCK PLEASE FILL ME UP~!” Kento would mindlessly whine, desperately pleading for release, his large hands clawing at my back as he rock his hips against mine, trying to push himself over the edge but because I'm a cruel bastard I wouldn't let him cum so easily, especially after he came the first time without permission.

Besides cock sleeves don't get to make requests, even if he did ask nicely.

I would snicker, looking at his flushed, desperate fucked out face, eyes rolling to the back of his head, face flushed dark shades of red, sweat glistening across his beautifully bruised skin, his mouth moving spilling an endless stream of pleas for release.

He would be too fucked out to notice one of my hands leaving his hips, only registering the movement when my big, rough hand takes ahold of his leaking shaft, the calloused feeling of my hand on his rock hard, oversensitive dick would send a jolt of electricity down his spine and his eyes with snap open.

He would have cum right then and there if it weren't for the fact my hand is squeezing the base of his dick, hard, making it impossible to actually cum but that doesn't dampen the sheer shocks of pleasure from racking his brain, causing a pathetic whimper as his dick twitches and he has a brain melting dry orgasm.

“Ah~ fuck! Look at you! You're squeezing my dick so fucking tight! Mhm~ good fucking boy! So desperate to milk my cock dry huh? Fuck~! You want it? You want my seed deep inside you-? Fuck, gonna be my cum dump? Yeah, yeah you're my fucking cum dump~! M’ gonna breed you full~! Gonna let daddy take care of you hmm? Let me fuck my cum so deep in that tight pussy~? Imagine how fucking good you'd look stuffed full of my cum~! Gonna get you fucking pregnant~ Stuff you full and plug you up so none of my cum gets wasted~! Ah~ yes-! Fuck fuck fuck~! So good~ So fucking good for me Kento~! Want me to fill you up~? THEN TAKE IT-!”

I would moan out as his hole spasms around my dick, like he actively trying to milk me for everything I'm worth and who am I to deny my glorious husband's request. I would feel my dick twitching, the white hot coil in my stomach ready to burst.

I would wrap my hands around his waist picking him up so just the tip of my dick is still inside his velvety walls before slamming him back down, shoving my entire length inside his perfect pussy, my dick twitching in pure bliss as ropes of sticky cum paint his insides white, spitting ropes of hot cum so deep inside him.

I would be mercifully and release his dick, pathetic ropes of hot, white and clear cum dripping down his softening dick as a powerful orgasm leaves him completely limp in my lap, my throbbing dick still nestled deep within him.

He would nuzzle his face against my neck, tears streaming down his face, his legs shaking as he wraps his arms around me, trying to ground himself as he babbles out a multitude of 'thank yous', still trying to catch his breath as sweat drips down his body.

I would wrap my hands around his trembling frame, fingers delicately tracing the bruises on his hips, my face also nuzzled against his neck as I place soft kisses against his burning skin, slowly bringing him out of the clouds while whispering how good he was, how perfect he is and how lucky I am to have him.

We would sit like that for a while, my soft dick buried deep inside his abused hole, wrapped in each other's arms, softly muttering praises to each other as we got out breathing under control and came down from our highs.

“You did so well my love, so good for me. Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?” I would suggest after we've been sitting there for about half an hour, he would have stopped trembling and gotten comfortable, slumped against me while he cock warms me.

He would tiredly nod, not having any strength to speak and I would put my hands under his thighs, slowly lifting him off my soft cock, he would groan at the feeling of my dick leaving his tight hole, my cum leaking out and dripping down his thighs.

I would get up and pick him up, his legs wrapping around my waist and his hands wrapped around my neck, his head resting on my shoulder as I carried him to the bathroom, still muttering soft praises in his ear.

We would get to the bathroom and I would put him down on the toilet seat, being gentle as I do so because I know hes sore, he would hiss as the cold lid of the toilet seat touches his bare ass but the cold feeling would be welcomed.

I would quickly start filling the tub with warm water, getting some bubbles and rose petals to make it even better because Kento deserves it.

Once the tub is full I would gently pick up Kento and deposit him in the tub, his no doubt exhausted body immediately sinking into the warm water, letting it loosen all his muscles.

I wouldn't smile as I get in behind him, putting both my legs on either side of his waist as he rests his back against my chest, my arms wrapping around his chest as I hold him close, once again muttering small praises into his ear.

Kentos body would go completely limp in the warm water, resting his head back against my shoulder, his eyes closed as he relaxes in my hold and lets me take care of him after fucking his brains out.

After a few minutes of simply soaking in the water and basking in each others presence I would start washing him, then wash his hair and gently finger all my cum out of his puffy hole, making sure not to overstimulate him too much.

Once we're both done bathing I would once again carry him to our room and gently lay him on the bed as I grab out matching pajamas.

Once we're both changed I'd climb into bed with him, our automatic position would be us spooning, me being the big spoon with my arm wrapped around his waist, holding his back flush against my chest as he curls up against me.

“You were such a good boy today Kento, you did so well. You deserve to rest now, Darling. I love you baby, get some sleep.” I would whisper in his ear, my voice filled with genuine love and admiration as I kiss the back of his neck, resulting in a pleased sigh from Kento.

“Mhm, I love you too daddy~ Goodnight.” he would mumble as he yawns, closing his eyes as he drifts off to sleep, his mind having been fucked free of any thoughts then slowly brought back down leaving him completely and utterly satisfied.

We would sleep soundly in each other's arms, knowing only safety and comfort in each other's embrace. I would fall asleep with a smile on my face, knowing I have my soulmate wrapped in my arms.

#dom male reader #seme male reader #top male reader #male reader #akumakosuketoughts #jjk x male reader #sub nanami #kento x male reader #bottom nanami #nanami x male reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x seme male reader #jjk nanami

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hyewka · 1 year ago

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᭄⁑　txt as yanderes | thoughts

warnings: yandere, noncon, baby trapping, mention of knife play, slapping, perversion, not proofread

yandere!jjun is the type to be too sweet, sickly sweet. like barfed cupcakes and sprinkles, he pretends to care, he love bombs, he kisses you like he truly loves you, like there’s no one else but you and maybe its true, maybe there is no one else but you in his eyes. but its not romantic. not when he has blood on his hands, figuratively or literally, he’s responsible for innocents lost.

“i didn’t lay a single hand on them, how many times do i have to tell you! doll, baby, believe me. please.” his voice cracks, like he’s about to cry. you scoff and turn your head to the side, disgusted, feeling like you could very much vomit right now.

“stop fucking calling me these—these words!”

yandere!jjun, the type to crumble to his knees and beg, holding onto your leg like an abandoned puppy despite having much more power than you, both in strength and status. lips trembling, eyes wide and crazed, full of pitiful tears, giving you a false reality, sense of hope that he isn’t that much more powerful than you could even imagine.

now yandere!soobin on the other hand is the type you don’t even realize is mentally out of it, not until you’re literally two years into a relationship with him with a stable history of 7+ year of friendship. he’s been jealous here and there, one instance of him breaking down over you having coffee with a male colleague that you had to craddle him, rocking back and forth as he sobs and hiccups— that keeps you up at night sometimes, but he’s so convincing you don’t even notice how often he manipulates and gaslights and manipulates. the way he slithers his long arms around your waist, pressing your bodies flush, holding you tight, whispering random “love you’s”, you almost completely forget. almost.

when yan!soobin’s fucking you senseless, lost in pleasure, tongue out dumb like the horndog he is, you manage to warn him again, “b-baby, not on—hah birth control”

don’t cum inside. don’t cum inside. you told him that before you got too into it, and he agreed, he promised he won’t. of course he won’t.

so why’s he shaking his head? why’s he refusing now? your eyes widen a little, trying to push him but he leans to kiss you, drowning out your protests, turning them to mere mewls. “baby—wanna—wanna make you have babies..”

the alarm bells ring again. and again. and suddenly you remember the few warnings from your friends, the offhanded comments about how he’s a little off, a little weird, that he seems obsessed.

“you won’t leave me when you have my babies, you can’t—” suckling on your nipples through your shirt as if to prove a point, he wets it completely, making it see through with his spit. you feel gross. you feel—“can’t leave me,” he says one last time, moans straining as he empties his load in you. a generous load.

yandere!beomgyu is my favorite in the most deranged way possible. he’s not too sweet, he’s not the meanest, and he isn’t the most pathetic, but he’s definitely the craziest. beomgyu would be the one to go as far as to lock you in his home, keep you chained, bondaged—he’s fucking insane. the type to be into knife play as well, he loves the switch in power dynamic. instead of the past bossy, in control at all times y/n and her pretty lanky best friend who’s probably “head over heels” for her, it’s you on your knees, cold hard wood, getting your throat brutally abused like his personal sex doll.

he loves finally being the one in control. he’s so addicted. sometimes it feels like he’s only inflicting his craziest perverted dreams on you, and you were just his nearest victim, but oh no, out of the five, he’s definitely the most ‘in love’.

“let me out…beomgyu…please.”

his back is pressed against the bedroom’s door, listening in to your sobs that barely transcend the sound proof walls. he sighs, frusteningly running a hand through his hair.

“why—why don’t you love me?”

and suddenly its silent on your part, the sobs not reaching his ears anymore. its enough to cause more cracks in his heart, making him undeniably more bitter but god forbid he gives up on it—on making you love him back, he’ll risk everything for it.

yandere!taehyun is the most cruel but he’d also be considered the least delusional and the most delusional at the same time. he knows you won’t love him back, he could care less (well…debatable actually), it’s about protecting you at the end of the day. that’s where the delusion comes in, he thinks he’s your white knight and you’re only acting out like you’ve always been. stubborn and hard headed. when it comes to the sex, this man has you at all times legs spread up, with your hand restricted, supplying your pussy like a free breed whore. other than the humiliating position, he makes sure you’re aware at all times of what you are to him.

his saliva and cum covering your body like filth, using you like a rag, truly. he’s the type to slap when you act out—a strike against your face, pussy, tits, he’d do it all. and yet he still wholeheartedly believes he’s protecting you from the world that “corrupted” you.

yandere!hyuka is beyond pathetic but you’ll never know because he doesn’t act on his desires. well, in the sense that he doesn’t scratch the eyes out of every one of your boyfriends and doesn’t have you tied to him at all times—he’s the pussy type. in the dark, following, each and every step. that was the beginning. then it was jerking off on your balcony peeking between the blinds as he watches you undress. then it was stealing panties, sniffing, licking, as his hands go manic on his poor dick—it hurts, it’s dry but he keeps going, because he is so fucking addicted he doesnt wanna stop. whining n’ squeaking as he lets out your name out of his mouth over and over and over again.

your scent when he hugs you drives him mad, when you kiss his cheeks he embarrassingly spots a boner, he’s just pathetic with horrible horrible dirty thoughts in his head.

#txt smut #yandere smut #beomgyu smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #yeonjun smut #hueningkai smut #soobin smut #taehyun smut #🌷. rana thoughts

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lixzey · 1 month ago

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i. how long could we be a sad song, til we were too far gone to bring back to life?

luke castellan x apollo!reader

warnings: just read at your own risk, editing this was hard as fuck so bear with me. this has a lot of swearing, ANGST, and a new character! This is part one of chapter two, by the way!

thank you so much to my girls, @lilmaymayy and @jennapancake 🥺🫶🏻 for without them, i would be lost ‼️

hope you guys love it! (i put my blood, sweat, and tears into this-) love you guys!!!

ps: look out for clues!!

10.5k words

The smell of your mother’s freshly baked brownies invades your nostrils—a scent you haven’t smelled in a long time—which makes you feel nostalgic for a bit, as if your mother was in the room. Heated sounds of arguing coming from outside closed doors snap you fully awake, eyes fluttering open in response. You try to sit up, but your body fails you—tired and worn out. Your eyes scanned around the room, you were in the infirmary, no doubt about that. Bottles of nectar and cubes of ambrosia—the source of the comforting smell—sitting on a nearby table with your guitar sitting in a chair beside it.

“Let me the fuck in, Chris!” You hear Luke’s voice from outside, annoyance evident in his tone. “She’s my best friend! Move away from the goddamn door!”

Clarisse scoffs loudly. “Best friend? Best friend? You ditched her to go make out with that blonde smartass!”

You wanted to stand up and eavesdrop on their conversation, but your body wasn’t letting you. Clarisse was obviously talking about Lacy, and how Luke bailed on you last minute. Chris probably told her that, and besides, it’s not like she doesn’t know that I have feelings for that dumb little shit. You wondered what would happen if you grabbed another few cubes of ambrosia, maybe Lee or whoever tended to you while you were out cold didn’t shove a cube down your throat yet. You hesitated, you were a healer—cabin seven’s finest, for crying out loud!—you should know better than to give in to whatever your brain tells you to do.

“Do not call Lacy that,” Luke growls at Clarisse. “I asked Y/n if it was okay, and she said it was! I wouldn't have gone if she wasn’t okay-”

“If it wasn’t for your dumbassery she wouldn’t be in here in the first place, you stupid dumb fuck!” Clarisse growled back, matching Luke’s intensity like an echo.

“I asked her and she said it was fucking fine! Get that in your damn thick skull!”

“Ha! Look who’s talking!” Clarisse snapped, despite being younger, she was a firecracker in her own right. “Acting all high and mighty, when this is all your fault! Did you even know that she went down to the docks, after you acted all white knight just to spend time with that know-it-all little shit? Huh? With an ungodly amount of food meant for the both of you!”

“Stop. Calling. Lacy. Fucking. Names!”

What on earth is happening out there? You shake your head, taking a deep breath, forcing yourself to sit with everything you got. You wince at the throbbing pain in your head, leaning against the wall, trying to get your shit together before grabbing a cube of ambrosia and shoving it down your throat despite that nagging voice inside your head telling you no, like a broken record.

“Y/n is unconscious, for crying out loud!” Clarisse yells, anger spewing like lava from the rock climbing wall down by the amphitheater. “And all you can fucking think of is Lacy!?”

“That’s why I’m literally here, Clarisse!” Luke snaps, rubbing his arm. “I’m here to see my best friend!”

“That girl inside,” Clarisse jerks her head towards the door behind her, anger fuming out of her like cigar smoke. “Is the kindest and most loving person out here at camp—literal sunshine trapped in a human’s body! She has always been at your side, and you repay her by ditching her to make out with a girl whom, might I just add, you’ve just talked to within the goddamn DAY and proceeded to ignore your said best friend.”

“I’m here now-”

Clarisse cuts him off. “Leave.” She pointed down the hallway, to the door out of the Big House. “Before I lose my shit and chop your head off and use it as a fucking bowling ball with your limbs as the damned pins.”

“Luke,” You weakly call out, loud enough to interrupt what could’ve been Clarisse acting out on her intrusive thoughts, your voice hoarse and dry as if you’ve been stuck in a desert without anything to drink.

“Y/n,” Luke breathes out, the sound of your voice calming him down as he pushes past the two. As soon as the door opens, you see him smiling at you—that mischievous smile you’ve learned to love the past three years. He then steps forward, ignoring the glares Clarisse and Chris were giving him. But before he can even get close, you fall back into your bed—steaming, as if you were burning like a forest fire. Luke immediately rushes to your side, sitting on the bed, holding your hand in his. Worry and fear was visible in his features, the scar on the right side of his face resembling tears running down his cheek as fear slowly crept into his mind. “Fuck, you’re burning, melody.”

“What?” Chris asks, frozen in place—worry replacing glare he once had. “I thought Lee already gave her ambrosia!”

“He did!” Clarisse says, seemingly forgetting her anger towards the older Hermes boy as she rushes to your side. “Gave her two cubes!”

“Call Lee, Michael, or Dawn! Now!” Luke barks at the two, looking around the room for anything to help cool you down, even though Luke knew that a fever like this wasn’t easily fixable by a cool rag or something. “Now!”

Clarisse immediately scrambles to get your siblings, looking like she had seen a ghost, dark curls following her every move.

Chris then stares Luke down, seemingly getting over his initial worry for you as his glare intensifies by the second. “Get out.” he spits out harshly. “Get the fuck out before I forget that you’re my brother.”

Luke looks at his brother, matching his intense glare. “I don’t give a damn, Rodriguez,” he hisses, refusing to leave your side like a clinging child.

“Get. The. Fuck. Out.” Chris enunciates each word with venom, his eyes flashing with hate and anger.

“She called me! She wants me! She needs me!” Luke let go of your hand, standing up to face his brother as he tried to argue, but Chris wasn’t having it.

“Go fuck Lacy for all we care,” Chris pushes him by the chest—despite being a full two inches smaller than his older brother. “Since you chose her over your best friend.”

Before Luke could even react, your siblings—Lee and Dawn—came rushing into the room, just in time to prevent gods knows what. Luke moved to the side, giving your brother and sister room to work, while still glaring at his brother. How dare he? The counselor of cabin eleven thought, forcing himself to calm back down for your sake. He felt miserable, that he had caused this. He wanted nothing more than to see you be happy, healthy, and well, you.

Luke averted his gaze away from his brother, chocolate brown eyes helplessly staring at your unconscious form. You looked so worn out, almost as if someone had drained every bit of your life force.

“Get your punk ass out of here right now,” Clarisse hissed, yanking Luke’s arm, trying to drag him out.

“Let go of me, you little shit,” Luke growled, like a lion defending its territory. “I’m not leaving her-”

“Get out!” Lee snapped, looking over his shoulder with a murderous look in his eyes. “Before I give you all hives, boils, anything available in the book!”

“But-”

“Get out!”

And with that, Chris and Clarisse dragged Luke out of the Infirmary.

“Let me go!” Luke struggled in their hold, every cell of his body wanting—needing—to get back to his girl, his melody. “S-She needs me!”

“Calm the fuck down, for Christ’s sake!” Chris sighs, letting go of his hold on his older brother. “Even if we both let you go, Lee and Dawn aren’t going to let you inside, you stupid dumb fuck!”

“Damn you, damn all of you!” Luke angrily yells at Chris and Clarisse, and probably at everyone else.

“Shut the hell up, Castellan!” Clarisse yelled, annoyed at his stupid behavior. “Stop acting like you’re the victim here, you whiny bitch!”

Luke ran a hand through his curls in complete frustration, muttering incoherent words as he tried hard not to pull all his hair out of his scalp.

“Get a grip, dumbass!“ Clarisse threatened, on the verge of acting on her intrusive thoughts. “Before I smack some sense into your sorry ass!”

Surprisingly, Luke didn’t fight or argue back. It wasn’t that he couldn’t fight back, but this girl in front of him was ruthless. More than anyone else at camp. And if she threatens someone, there’s a ninety nine percent that she will do whatever she says.

Luke sighed, quickly fixing his composure, glaring at Chris and Clarisse for a minute at most, before turning his heel and leaving the Big House, not even bothered to take a look back.

“Melody, I love you,” Luke whispers in your ear. “Please be mine, I promise to never hurt you again.”

“Luke,” You sigh, looking him straight in his eyes—deep brown that holds your heart. “I love you too.”

The sun slowly crept through the curtains, waking you up, tearing you away from your dreams. Your eyes flutter open, squinting as they adjust to the light as if it was the first time in a long while.

“Mornin’ sleepy head,” A voice echoes through the room’s four corners, snapping you fully awake. Your eyes dart towards the voice’s direction, meeting a familiar set of chocolate brown eyes you’ve stared into more times you could ever count paired with that signature smile of his that made his scar just below his right eye, practically fade. “About time you woke up.”

“Luke?” You mumble, thinking that you were still dreaming.

“Gotta be quiet now, melody,” Luke moves closer to you, giving you a better view of him—looking as handsome as ever. “No one knows I’m here.” He points to a New York Yankees cap dangling from his belt loop. “I sneaked in.”

“What? You snuck in?” You ask, brows knitted in confusion. “Why’d you sneak in? It’s not like you’re not allowed to be in here.”

Luke scratches the nape of his neck, avoiding your gaze. “About that….”

You raise a brow at him, arms folded in front of your chest. “Luke, what’s going on? Don’t lie to me, I know when you’re lying.”

“Of course you do,” Luke chuckles, shaking his head. He then takes a deep breath, looking you straight in the eyes. “Chris and Clarisse won’t let me see you, while you’re here, unconscious.”

You crack a small smile, the light you always had, returning to your eyes. “What? Why? I mean, they’re literally three, four years younger than both of us and they bested you?”

Luke smiles at you sheepishly. “Yeah, well, Clarisse isn’t someone I’d like to cross.”

“You and me both,” You chuckle, sitting up straight. “So, how long was I out? Two, three hours?”

Luke’s smile falters, hesitation in his eyes. “You’ve been here for a week, melody.”

“W…what? A w…what!?” You stutter in disbelief. “One whole week!?”

“Apparently, your insides burned because of too much ambrosia intake.” Luke explains with a look of worry in his eyes. “You got everyone worried, melody.”

“How much did they give me?”

“Lee swears he gave you only two, but another cube was missing from the table, so they couldn’t be sure if it was only two.”

“Oh.”

Luke raises a brow at you, a knowing smirk on his lips. “You don’t happen to know anything, huh, melody?”

You stare at him in disbelief. How is it that he knows when I’m lying but not that I’m head over heels for him? “I may or may not have grabbed another cube, a week ago.”

Luke shakes his head with a chuckle. “And I thought I was the one, what was that you always say? Who doesn’t follow orders?”

You roll your eyes at him, your lips curling up into a smile. “Shut up, Castellan.”

“You love me, L/n.” Luke grins, mischief twinkling in his beautiful brown eyes. Of course, I fucking do. You’re just too damn stupid to notice.

“Dream on,” You chuckle, forcing a fake smile, hoping that he won’t see through it. “So, how come Clar and Chris won’t let you in?”

Luke hesitates again, avoiding your eyes—a telltale sign that he was guilty. “They, uh, were, uh mad at me. For, you know? Ditching you.”

Oh. That’s why they were arguing a week ago, apparently. You understood why Clarisse and Chris wouldn’t let Luke in, they were only concerned for you. But it wasn’t a valid reason to keep him out, when it’s him that you’ve always wanted to be right beside you.

You force out another smile—maybe you were a pro, at this point—taking his hand in yours. “I don’t mind, charming,” you say, gripping his hand tighter. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Luke looks at you. “You sure? I mean, I don’t want to put our friendship on the line because of my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” You choked out, shock evident in your eyes, but you pushed it down like you always do. “I mean, how? When? I remember the two of you just talking…”

“Just two days ago,” Luke answers with a confident smile. “I’m in love with her, melody, I really am. After that failed quest my stupid father gave me, I think I finally got something right—her.”

You didn’t know how to feel. You felt numb, as if your heart couldn’t break anymore than it already has. Here he was, happy to tell you that he’s finally done something right in his life. Not knowing how it’s breaking you, piece by piece, tear by tear, beating you down until you can’t anymore. But, you can’t do a thing. You don’t have any right to get hurt, angry, and broken-hearted. After all, you were only his best friend, nothing more.

You gave him a smile with every strength you could muster. “Good for you, Luke. I’m-” you took a shaky breath, hoping you could blame it on the drowsiness if he asked. “Proud of you, finally getting the love you deserve.” If happy is her, then I’m happy for you—at least, I’ll try to be.

Luke leans forward, wrapping you a tight hug. “Thanks, melody,” He whispers in your ear. “You’re the best.”

You pat him on the back, wishing you could just hit him hard enough to knock some sense into him, make him realize that you were here—right in fucking front of him. “Anytime, charming.”

Luke pulls away, giving you a kiss on the cheek before ruffling your already messy hair. “You rest well, okay?”

“Says the one without burnt insides,”

“We all have rough days and it’s okay not to feel a hundred percent all the time.” Luke assures you with a soft smile. “You’re gonna pick yourself up, and get back out there. Be easy on yourself, alright?”

You raise a brow at him, laughing softly. “When did you become so wise?”

“Turns out, hanging out at cabin six makes you wise.” Luke laughs, rising to his feet. “I’ve got to go, alright, melody? I don’t want Clarisse to kick my ass, again, if she catches me here. Anyway, we have a game of capture the flag next friday. Chiron’s pushed it back long enough, if you ask me.”

“Already?” You ask, pushing strands of your hair away from your face. “What day is it?”

“You’ve been out cold for a week, melody,” Luke chuckles, shaking his head, his curls looking as messy as ever. “It’s Thursday today, Chiron announced last night.”

“Damn,” you mutter under your breath. “I missed a lot, huh?” Like you making Lacy officially your girlfriend.

“Don't you worry your pretty little head, you can jump back into it as soon as you feel okay.” Luke assures you with a smile, walking towards the door, Annabeth’s New York Yankees cap ready in his hands. “Now, get some rest.”

You nodded, playfully rolling your eyes, as if you weren’t already dying of heartache and a headache from all the information you’ve just ingested. “Yes, I will. Don’t worry too much about me.”

“When you’re better, meet me at our spot.” Luke gave you a lopsided grin. “We’ll spar, but don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

“Alright,” You fake a smile so normally, reaching for the bottled water on the bedside table. “I’m sure gonna beat up your sorry ass.”

“As if,” Luke scoffs, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “You can’t beat me.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “I sure can, dummy.”

Luke snorts, adjusting the Yankees cap to his size. “We’ll see.” He then places the cap on top of his head, his body disappearing right in front of your eyes. “Rest.”

You chuckle, smiling—genuinely—at him. “I will, thanks for the visit, charming.”

“For the love of dad, Lee,” You groan, glaring at your younger brother, lips pouting like a little kid. “It’s been twenty four hours! I’m better now!”

“Let me check first!” Lee counters, ripping open a tongue depressor. “Please, just let me check—to make sure that you’re actually healed.”

“I told you, I’m oka-”

“I’m going to bound you to that bed if you don’t shut up and let me do the freaking examination.” Lee cuts you off, effectively shutting you up. He sounded just like you, it was scary, to say the least.

“Damn, he sounds like you, sunshine.” Chris laughs from the doorway behind Lee. “You better now?”

“She would know by now if she’d just let me fu-”

“Just do the damn exam.” You grumble, sinking into the bed, your arms folded over your chest like a little girl arguing with an adult as you glared at your younger brother. “Don’t fucking swear.”

“But you do,” Lee retorts, pushing the depressor into your mouth, flat against your tongue, checking for burns cleverly caused by his sister who should have known better. “So, why shouldn’t I?”

“I’m gonna bite off your fingers, try me.” You say out through the depressor pressing over your tongue, your gag reflex activating causing you to grimace at the feeling. “I der ya.”

You hear Chris snort, earning him a glare from you. “What?” He laughs at your annoyance. “You sound like a toddler.”

You glare at him, raising your middle finger at him. “Yuck you.”

Lee, who was checking your throat, bursts out laughing. “You’re better, alright.”

You yank the depressor out of your mouth, the taste of wood still lingering on your taste buds. “I’m better, fine, good, all fixed. Can I go now or do I have to stay and be tortured by your annoying ass presence?”

Lee nods, a teasing grin plastered on his face. “Go, just don’t tire yourself. No stress for this day, at least, for gods’ sake.”

You roll your eyes at him, sitting up and reaching below for your shoes. “I know what to do, dummy.” You quickly put on your shoes, tucking the laces inside so that they don’t cause another accident before standing up. “I’ve been a healer much longer than you, thank you very much.”

“Yeah, right,” Lee mutters, throwing the wooden paraphernalia into a nearby bin. “Says the girl who burned her insides.”

“Shut up,” You hiss at your brother, resisting the urge to just smack him upside the head like the doofus he is. Brothers, geez. You can’t stand them but you can’t imagine life without them. You then grabbed a hair tie from your pocket, strands of your hair falling as you pulled your hair up into a messy ponytail. “I’m going to go find Luke.”

“Him?” Chris scoffs, rolling his eyes. “He’s literally the reason why you got sick, sunshine.”

“Nonsense,” You dismissively wave Chris off. “It was my fault, I forgot to drink water.”

“Yeah, right,” Chris rolls his eyes at you, not believing any of your bullshit, as Clarisse would call it. “You forgot to drink water on a hot summer, because my stupid ass older brother broke your heart?”

“Don’t you have someplace to be?” You grumble, picking up your guitar before making your way to the door. “Luke is still my best friend, I’m not just going to ignore him.”

Chris scowls playfully at you, placing his hands on his hips. “Then what am I? A tree?”

You chuckle, moving towards him and pinching his cheek, making him wince. “You, my friend, are like a little brother to me.”

Chris pulls your hand away from his cheek, still wincing from how hard you pinched him. “Little? I’m literally taller than you, sunshine.”

“Semantics,” You rolled your eyes, smiling at him. “Tall or short, big or small, or whatever the hell you want, you’re still like a brother to me.”

“Then,” Chris chuckles. “You are the best big sister anyone could have. Right, Lee?”

Lee nods his head vigorously. “The best, one hundred percent. Cabin seven is lucky to have you, sis!”

Your cheeks blaze pink, as you smile from ear to ear. “Gee, thanks guys,” You bow playfully. “Glad I’m appreciated around here.”

“Unlike some people.” Chris mutters loud enough for you to hear.

“He does,” You insist, your dad’s stubbornness shining through you like beams of light. “Luke appreciates me, I know it. He wouldn’t have visited me yesterday while I was out if he didn’t.”

Chris raised a brow. “Oh, did he now? I think I’m gonna have a word with this dear brother of mine.”

“Chris,” you say in a warning tone. “Be nice.”

“Fine, fine,” Chris sighs. “Don’t say we didn’t warn you, sunshine.”

“I am this close to cursing you with the sweating sickness.”

“Go,” Lee laughs, pushing you out the door. “Your prince charming awaits.”

The late summer afternoon sun was still hot against your skin as you excitedly made your way to find Luke, practically skipping as you threaded through the North Woods, to the place you and Luke call your escape from being the pillars of camp.

Only the two of you know about it. You and Luke swore on the River Styx to never tell anyone of the little hidden paradise the both of you had grown to call your own. It was the place you could be happy, the place you could have Luke all to your own.

“Not so fast!” Someone snarled, yanking on your hair, grabbing your bow and arrows. “Give me the fucking flag!”

“Luke!” You screamed, struggling against the pull at your hair. “A little help!”

Luke whipped his head around, anger immediately coursing through his veins. The sight of you struggling at the hands of an older Ares boy ignited a flame inside of him. Nobody hurts her.

Luke charged at him, making you yelp at the tug of your hair. The son of Ares was using you as a shield against Luke—and Luke wasn’t liking any bit of it.

“Let her go!” Luke roared, trying his best to attack and not hurt you. “You big dumbasss!”

“Just give me the fucking flag!” The son of Ares growled, pulling your hair harder, causing a sharp pain in your scalp—you were sure if he let go of you, all of your hair would fall out. “And I’ll spare both of you!”

“Never.” Luke growled, quickly planning an attack. Being the child of Hermes had its perks, as Luke was quick to move. Luke charged like an angered bull, taking the older boy by surprise, knocking you off of his grasp. The son of Hermes slammed the hilt of his sword against the son of Ares’ chest armor, causing it to dent and making him stumble. “Now, get the fuck out before I chop you into pieces.”

The son of Ares immediately scrambled away. “We’re not over, Castellan! We’ll get that flag one way or another!”

“Yeah? Try me.”

Luke turned his attention to you, almost tripping on a rock as he ran towards you. “You alright, melody?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” You grunt, adjusting the strap of your armor. Seeing Luke’s worried look, you sighed. “Hair pulling isn’t gonna give me a concussion, don’t worry.”

“If that fucker comes back, I’m gonna-” You pinch him on the arm, making him yelp. “Ouch, woman! That hurts!”

You rolled your eyes. “Quit being a baby.”

“Violence is never the answer! I’m not the enemy, so don’t attack me!” Luke grumbled, rubbing his arm where you had attacked him.

“Let’s just go and hide.”

“Do we have to hide?” Luke asks, gripping his sword, ready for defense. “I mean, we can fight—I can fight.”

“I am not going to fight when I can just hide.”

“Then what’s the point of capture the flag if you aren’t even fighting to keep the flag safe from the opposing team?” Luke folded his arms over his armored chest. “It’s a war game for a reason, melody.”

You roll your eyes at him, shaking your head in annoyance. He was really persistent, but you wouldn’t have him in any other way. “One, we have the flag. We’re supposed to keep it safe, so we should be hiding it. Two, I am not in the mood to heal you if you get hurt—which will probably happen, because I know you.”

“Come on,” Luke whined, tugging at the blue flag in your hands. “We can win this, I know it!”

“We can win this,” You nodded. “If you quit being a pain in the ass.”

Luke scowled. “I am not a pain, thank you very much.”

You snort, raising your hand up to wipe off the dirt on Luke’s face. “Yes, you fucking are.”

Before Luke could retort, you hear yelling just meters away from where you and Luke were standing.

“They’re over there!”

You immediately realize who it was—it was the boy who Luke had bested just minutes ago.

“Great,” You groaned, simultaneously, Luke pumped his fist up in the air.

“Idiot.“ You muttered before grabbing Luke’s wrist, dragging him away.

Despite his protests, you keep your grip on him. You weren’t gonna let him pick a fight just because he wanted to.

“There!” You hear the yells of the opposing team getting loud and closer. “I’m going to fucking rip his head off!”

You spot a cave just a few meters away. It would be a good hiding spot, just until the furious Ares kids leave the two of you alone.

“Let me at ‘em!” Luke tried pulling his hand away from your grasp. “I can handle them!”

“No!” You snap at him, dragging him towards the direction of the cave’s entrance, almost tripping as you dragged the stubborn Hermes boy despite his annoyed protests.

The two of you stumble into the darkened grotto just in the nick of time, practically shoving Luke inside. You leaned against the stone wall, trying to catch your breath, hoping those sons of Ares won’t get the idea to look inside. You immediately pulled your necklace out of your shirt. The sun shaped locket your father gave you started to glow, illuminating your face in the darkness.

“You should’ve let me fight them,” Luke grumbled, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath like you did. “I would’ve beat their asses!”

“If I did they would’ve got the flag from me, dummy!” You retorted, letting go of the chain of your necklace, letting it dangle over the camp's logo on your shirt. “Quit being reckless!”

Luke scowled, slumping onto the ground. You could see beads of sweat all over his forehead down to his neck. “I’m not reckless.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Am not.”

“You are.”

“Nuh uh!”

“Uh huh!”

Luke rolled his eyes, a small smile creeping its way to his lips. “I mean, I guess I am a little bit reckless.”

You raised a brow at him. “Only a little bit?”

“Okay fine,” Luke sighed, shaking his head with a laugh. “I’m reckless, are you happy now?”

“Delighted.” You grin at him, wiping sweat off of your forehead with the back of your hand. The two of you then sat in silence for what felt like hours—it was only a few minutes—the sounds of yours and Luke’s breathing accompanying the dim light of your locket.

“So, where exactly are we?” Luke asks, breaking the momentary silence. “Never seen this cave before.”

“I actually don’t know,” You answer, looking around the poorly lit enclosure. “Pretty sure we’re barely past Zeus’ fist, so we don’t have to worry about being too far out.”

“Zeus’ fist?” Luke snorts. “What? Mister king of the gods had a tantrum and punched camp?”

“It’s a clump of rocks that look like a fist,” You laugh, rolling your eyes at Luke’s humor. “Although, some call it Zeus’ shit, since it looks like a clump of Pegasus shit.”

Luke burst out laughing, throwing his head back like a little kid. “Nice name, fits mister grumpy pants. Thalia would’ve loved that!” he says in between fits of laughter.

“She would,” you smiled, knowing how much Luke missed Thalia—his first best friend. You didn’t know much about Thalia, but knowing from the stories Luke has told you before, he was right. “Thalia would’ve loved it.”

“Yeah, she would’ve,” Luke sighed, smiling softly. “Hey, melody?”

“Mhm?”

“Do you think anyone else knows about this cave?”

“I don’t think so,” you shrug, looking around. “This place looks so…dark, you know? And besides, the Ares kids haven’t found us yet. So, it’s safe to say that no one else knows about this place.”

“Our own place.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“This could be our own place,” Luke explained with a grin, his eyes shining with a familiar excitement you’ve seen before in his chocolate eyes. “Somewhere only we know.”

“It’s dark here,” You say, your nose wrinkling in disgust. You never really liked the dark. As a child, it had been your worst nightmare. Your mother would always set up a nightlight just so you wouldn’t get terrified of the possible creatures that lurked in the dead of the night. When you got to camp, your father had given you your locket to help you cope with the darkness and being alone since your mother couldn’t really help you with your fears anymore. “I don’t really like the dark.”

“We could add some torches outside, plus some inside, maybe those streamer light things too—we just gotta figure out how to add this without power, but I think I can ask that Beckendorf kid for a favor. A few crates we can stack up for a bed when we need it—I can grab an extra sleeping bag from the camp store. And some throw pillows here and there and it’ll feel like home.”

“You can’t possibly think that this dark cave could feel like a home,” You argued, folding your arms over your chest. Realizing that you’ve covered the only source of light in the dark, you quickly tugged on your chain, pulling it from below your arms.

“I lived in a cave once.” Luke says casually, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s not that bad, honestly. You just got to use your artistic eye—you do have that, don’tcha?”

“I’m not going to get my way, am I?”

“Nope!”

You rolled your eyes at him, smiling despite losing another decision to the boy right in front of you. “Fine,” you groan playfully. “You better make this place as bright as my cabin.”

“Not that bright, but of course, my sweet darlin’ melody!”

You smile, taking it all in. You’ve never had something as intimate as this, and it felt good, somehow. A place you can call your own, now who wouldn’t want that? “Our own place,”

“Our own place.” Luke repeated, contentment in his voice. “Swear on the River Styx?”

“What for?”

“If this is gonna be our little escape from camp duties, we should at least keep it a secret from everyone else.”

You raised a brow at him. “Even from Annabeth?”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Yes, even from Annabeth.”

“Pretty sure she’s gonna find out either way, but yeah sure, we can swear on it.”

“I, Luke Castellan, swear on the River Styx to never tell anyone of this place.”

“I, Y/n L/n, swear on the River Styx to never tell anyone of this place.”

The sound of the conch rang out from the distance, signifying the end of the game, and since the flag was still in your hands, your team had won.

“Did we win?”

“We did!” You squeal, grinning from ear to ear like a child on Christmas eve. “We won! We actually won!”

“Come on, let’s rub our victory in their faces,” Luke grinned, his eyes shining with that familiar mischief you’ve come to adore, dramatically offering his hand out for you to take. “Shall we, my lady?”

“We shall,” You giggle, grabbing his hand as the two of you make your way out of the dimly lit space.

From that day on, you and Luke have decorated the place to look as cozy as possible. The both of you would spend as much time as possible together, usually sparring outside the cave or just catching up on the sleep you’ve missed from waking up early in the mornings. Sometimes, you’d bring your art supplies and paint little murals all over the walls. Luke even carved yours and his initials on one side of the walls and painted them gold—in Luke’s words, because, our friendship is worth more than gold. This little cave was your escape from reality. Where Luke is yours, and you are his—even just in your imagination.

You sigh happily as you spot your little hidden paradise, blazing greek fire on torches set up just at the entrance. You practically skipped towards the cave, a huge grin plastered on your face.

“Luke? Are you here, charming?” you call out, your voice sounding a little giddy as you make your way inside, following the dim light inside—which Luke probably lit beforehand. “I’m here! I’m ready to beat your ass!”

As you approach closer to the light, you hear faint moaning? What in the name of Hades is he moaning for? You thought, brows knitting in confusion as you moved cautiously forward, pulling the strap of your guitar over your head. He better not be jerking off again. I swear to the gods above I’m going to hit him with my guitar.

You’ve only caught him in the act once, and it was enough for you and Luke to resort to calling before coming in—which you did, and debating whether to do it again because you did not want to see how males relieve themselves again ever in this lifetime.

You sigh heavily as you make your way inside of yours and Luke’s secret hide out, desperate for a little sleep before getting back into your duties as one of the head counselors. Your fourth archery class was in two hours, and you were already debating whether you should leave it for Dawn to handle because you were absolutely aching to get a well deserved rest, practically begging Hypnos to put you into a peaceful nap right there and then.

As you walk past the buckets of paint you left from the last mural you made, you hear muffled sounds coming from inside. Immediately, you thought of Luke being injured or in pain—his recklessness usually got him into unsavory circumstances, and it was honestly so stupid of him most of the time. But you’ve never heard him like this before, and it made you worry. Maybe he got stabbed—which was highly unlikely, knowing how good he is with a sword—and was scared to tell you, knowing you’d bound him to a bed in the infirmary this time. Whatever it is, you were ready to hit him on the head for it. Perhaps even curse him with the sweating sickness for, well, being a pain in the ass (you love him for it, so you most likely won’t).

Sighing, you finally make your way towards him, hands in your pockets searching for something that could help—band aids, ambrosia, anything—ease whatever pain Luke was feeling. Hopefully, it isn’t that bad and fixable with the few cubes of ambrosia in a pouch inside your pocket.

“Jesus, Luke!” you shriek, immediately closing your eyes shut, pulling your hands out of your pockets and covering your eyes for added, well, coverage from what you just saw.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you hear Luke say as he quickly—as you assumed—pulled his boxers and pants up, before the sound of his footsteps echo in your ear. “You saw that…?”

“What do you think, dumbass?” you hiss, eyes still closed shut as you attempted to cross one arm over the other against your chest.

“Maybe next time, call first?”

“You think?”

“You can open your eyes now, Mel,” Luke says with a chuckle. “You gave me blue balls, but I’m decent now.”

“Nuh uh,” you shake your head. “I don’t trust you.”

“You wound me, miss Y/n L/n, daughter of the god of truth-”

“Your dad is a liar. You said so-”

“You think I’d ever lie to you, melody?” Luke snorts. “Just open your eyes, drama queen.”

“It’s not my fault I’m scarred for life!” You grumble, reluctantly opening your eyes, relieved that Luke was decent looking at least even though his belt was undone and the zipper was half way up—which you just chose to ignore. “Gods of Olympus, I think I need to get therapy!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke rolls his eyes sarcastically. “It’s not my fault you just waltzed in without announcing yourself.”

You scoffed, glaring at him. “Well, I’m sorry for thinking that you were injured or something, dumbass!”

“Come here,” Luke opens his arms out for a hug, giving you an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, mel-”

“Ew, wash your hands first!”

Luke burst out laughing. “Really?”

“I am not hugging you until your hands are a hundred percent disinfected, Castellan.”

“Fine,” Luke laughs, turning his back to get the shoe box sitting on the ground, placing the cover back on top. “Let me just bring this back to eleven, and then you can supervise me in disinfecting my hands.”

“What even is that?” you ask, peering over Luke’s shoulder.

“Oh, trust me. You don’t want to know.”

Realizing what he meant, you visibly cringed. “Oh, dear gods,” you say, your nose wrinkling in disgust. “You are disgusting, you know that?”

“You gotta do what you gotta do,” Luke smirks. “It hurts, if not relieved properly.”

“Stop, stop,” you shake your head, covering your ears. “I do not need a lesson on the male reproductive system.”

“It is what it is, melody.”

“Shut up,”

“Next time, call first, alright?” Luke chuckles, placing the box under his arm. “Yell if you have to.”

“Noted. And next time, give me a fucking heads up an hour before you want to do…that.”

“You do know that your brothers probably jerk off too, you know?”

“I swear to my dad I’m going to kill you of you don’t stop, Luke-”

Luke smirks, slinging his other arm over your shoulders. “You love me,”

I do, you think as the two of you make your way out. “But that does not mean you can annoy me to death.”

“Ah, but that’s my purpose, my friend.”

“You are absolutely, a hundred percent, annoying, Luke.”

“I think you mean, absolutely, a hundred percent, charming?”

“Nope,” you chuckle as Luke scoffs playfully. “You’re definitely an annoying little shit.”

“Yeah, well, I’m your annoying little shit.”

“The one and only.”

“Luke?” you call out his name again, this time a little louder. What is he doing? He better not be doing what I think he is, or I am definitely going to kill him.

“Luke-” A gasp escapes your lips at the scene playing right in front of your eyes. Suddenly, you felt like a statue, stuck staring despite the voices in your head begging you so desperately not to.

Luke was half naked, leaning against the wall, his jeans unbuckled and hanging loosely around his waist. And there was Lacy, straddling him, hands roaming absolutely everywhere. Her manicured hand trailing up and down his bare, scarred chest while the other was threading through his chocolate curls as he kissed her like it was the end of the fucking world. Luke's hands slowly crept down, one hand snaking around her waist, pulling her closer and the other trailing up under her shirt and up to her breasts, emitting a sound you never wanted to ever hear. The sounds of their moans kept ringing in your ears, haunting you with every second you stood frozen. Gods, at this point, you wanted to pop your eardrums just to be free of this involuntary torture.

But that wasn't even the worst part. It was the fact that, a few inches up, you could see a pair of initials drawn messily with red lipstick right over yours and Luke’s.

L + L

He was putting her over you, literally and physically.

You knew this was going to happen from the very moment Luke told you about his relationship, but you didn’t expect it to be so soon. Angry tears started to prick the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill at any second. You tried your best to push them back, but it felt like an overflowing dam. Your grip on your guitar loosens as your tears slowly cloud your vision. The wooden instrument slips from your hold, shattering into tiny unfixable pieces from the impact, just like your heart. At the sound of the instrument breaking, Luke’s head whips around, spotting you. His face immediately drains of color, knowing his faults.

“Shit-” Luke pushes Lacy off of him, causing her to yelp as he quickly makes his way towards you. But you turn to run off before he could even catch up. “Y/n, wait!” he calls after you as you run out of yours and Luke’s once secret place.

You kept on going, running and ignoring Luke’s pleas for you to stop and talk to him. You felt very betrayed, very heartbroken, and very angry. How could Luke do this to me? You kept on asking yourself as tears kept clouding your vision like an endless fog while you ran through the woods without any direction. You wanted to stop and face Luke, to scream at him for being so clueless about your feelings and for hurting you. But you couldn’t, you just can’t. The image of him entangled with that girl was burned into your mind, refusing to let you get away from its grasp as the memory replayed again and again like a broken record. Oh, how you wanted to gouge your own eyes out and drown them in bleach until the image of them faded completely out of your mind, unfortunately, you are a prisoner of your own thoughts.

And even if you could muster up the courage, you didn’t have the right to do so. You were just his friend, nothing more. You were just this person he could count on whenever he needed something. He doesn’t care about your feelings if or not you get hurt by his choices, because you didn’t mean much to him the way Lacy meant to him. You wanted so badly for your heart and mind to just realize that crucial fact, but like your father, you were just as stubborn. Gods, fucking gods, how cruel are they to damn you like this? What the hell did you do to invoke the ire of the gods and get this kind of suffering?

“Y/n, will you stop for a second!?” Luke managed to catch up on you, grabbing you by the arm and pulling you towards him like a force of a thousand magnets.

Your hands immediately found your eyes, wiping off every tear as much as you could, trying your absolute hardest to look normal. As if you weren’t hanging onto the balance of anger and hurt.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Luke’s voice was suddenly gentle and soft, his hands moving upward to cup your cheeks, slightly titling your face up so you could meet his eyes. “Are you okay, melody? What’s wrong? You know you can tell me anything.”

“Yeah, I’m-I’m good,” You sniffle, shifting your gaze away from him. How stupid is he to not see through you? “Just had a really shitty day.”

Luke sighs as he wraps his arms around you, his lips pressing against your forehead, burning into your skin. “I’m so sorry about-”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off with a shaky breath, pushing yourself away from his hold. You wanted so badly to bury yourself in his chest, like you always did whenever Luke hugged you, to breathe in his scent, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Knowing that Lacy had already claimed her territory. “I-I have to go,” You choked back a sob, wiping away the fresh tears falling from your eyes as you turned your back on him. “Lots…lots of stuff to do.”

“Y/n, wait-” Luke tries to stop you, his hand on your arm—holding onto you like a vice he didn’t want to let go—but you pulled your arm away and just walked away without taking another look back, because you didn’t want to look as desperate as you felt.

You feel your chest tighten as you hear Luke calling your name again and again, his voice slowly fading as the distance between you and him grows farther away. But, you continued to tread on, walking without a sense of direction through the woods. Despite that, there was this lingering feeling in your heart that hoped so badly that Luke would still follow you.

Should I look back? Should I stop? Should I…

No, Luke isn’t behind you anymore. He doesn’t care about you. He doesn’t give a damn about you. You are nothing to him. He loves Lacy, not you. And he will never love you.

Haven’t I given enough? I mean, I gave Luke my best me’s-

You aren’t her.

You aren’t Lacy.

What does she fucking have that I don’t?

You will never be her.

You snap out of your thoughts as you fall onto your hands and knees, gasping for air as the tears you were trying your absolute hardest to push back now flowed down your cheeks like an endless stream. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, it was just too much for you to handle all at once. It was suffocating, as if Lord Eros had shot an arrow straight through your throat, purposely missing your heart, and with a taunting voice he’s telling you “You don’t deserve love!”

“Holy Hephaestus- Beckendorf, get your ass down here for a sec!” You hear someone say, causing you to immediately wipe away tears, dirt smearing all over either side of your face. You see a figure approaching you from your peripheral view, which then you realized where you were. Fire crackled in the distance, the smell of burning metals lingering in the air. “Gods of Olympus- Y/n?” The figure knelt in front of you, large calloused hands supporting your weight as your body trembled from the forcing back whatever you felt. Looking up, though still a bit blurry, you recognized the person holding onto you. Marco Leon, head of cabin nine and son of Hephaestus—a familiar face you’ve come across multiple times a day in the infirmary.

“Are you alright, Y/n?” Marco asked, lifting your palms away from the ground, placing them onto his shoulders as he helped you stand up, searching you for any cuts or bruises. “What happened?”

What happened? Nothing. I just saw the love of my life practically having sex with his new girlfriend. “N-nothing,” You wheezed out, stumbling forward a bit as your chest heaved from trying to stop the tears and catch your breath. “I’m fine…”

“You’re obviously not fine, Y/n.” Marco shook his head, his face contorting into a look of concern. He slid his arm around your waist, careful not to make you feel uncomfortable but enough to keep you steady on your feet. “Come on, let’s get you seated for a sec.”

Marco led you towards the workshop, where surprisingly only one of his siblings—Charles Beckendorf—was waiting, confusion evident in his features as you approached.

“Holy- What did you do, Marco?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong! She tripped!” Marco defended, helping you onto one of the work benches around. “Quick, get the first aid kit!”

“No,” You say, shaking your head, your voice hoarse and dry as you undo your ponytail. “I mean, no thanks. I-I can do it myself.”

“Are you sure?” Marco grabbed the first aid kit from his brother, opening it. “You’ve got a pretty nasty scrape, there.”

You smile weakly, pushing back a few strands of your hair away from your face, cringing slightly at the feeling of dirt dried up on your skin. “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

“Alright,” Marco smiled, giving you an alcohol pad and gauze along with the tiniest roll of paper tape, which you gladly accepted with a small nod.

Ripping open the alcohol pad, you pressed it against your skinned knee, wiping any debris and bacteria away, a whimper escaping your lips at the burning sensation of the disinfecting wipe. You then repeated the process on your other knee, before placing the used pad on your lap and opening one of the gauze packs.

“Here, let me help with this, at least.” Marco offered, grabbing the roll of tape, tearing off a piece. “Put the gauze over the scrape, and I’ll secure it down.”

“Thanks,” You squeaked, eyes widening at how horrendous that sounded. Gods, why can’t I do anything right? “I’m so sorry for being a bother-”

“You’re not bothering anyone, trust me,” Marco chuckled, meeting your eyes with a kind smile. “You’ve been taking care of everyone at this camp, it’s just right to return the favor.”

Marco pulled another piece of tape, only for it to reach the end of the roll. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath, reaching for the medical kit and rummaging for another roll of paper tape, letting out a huff at the unsuccessful search. “Guess we’ll just have to make do with this little thing.”

He tore off the paper-clip sized piece off of the roll, placing it on the bottom side, so that the whole gauze wouldn’t fall off. It didn’t really make a difference, since your other knee was still bare—though, sanitized, at least.

You muttered a quick thank you, before taking a deep breath, composing what’s left of…whatever the hell you had left. “Gods, this is so embarrassing, you know?”

Marco raised a brow, closing the incomplete box of first aid necessities and passing it to his brother, who ran with it to god knows where, leaving you alone with the senior counselor of cabin nine. “What is?”

“Head healer, being a dumbass, getting herself injured and can’t even properly heal said injuries—and the worst part, the injury was only a scrape, a fucking scrape.”

“Stop that,” Marco sat right next to you, shoulders brushing against one another. “You have got to stop discrediting yourself, Y/n. You are an amazing healer, sister, friend, and person. From what I’ve seen you do over the years, I’m confident to say that you are the most selfless person here at camp.”

“You’re just saying that because-”

Marco placed his hand on your shoulder, your eyes suddenly meeting his—chocolate brown, just like Luke’s. I can’t even talk to another without thinking of him, gods, what is wrong with me? “You take care of everyone, honestly, but who takes care of you?”

“I-I…” Words refuse to come out of your mouth, leaving you like one of your blank canvas. Marco was right, and it pains you to admit it. You’ve always been the caretaker, but never the one cared for. Sure, your siblings and friends care for you, but at the end of the day, it’s still you who looks after everyone—especially him. If Luke Castellan ever needed tending to or help with practically anything, you’re there by his side, just like how Icarus was drawn to the sun. You often forget to take care of yourself, even the simplest of tasks like eating or drinking, slips out of your mind whenever Luke or someone needs your help. It’s almost an endless cycle, fixing everyone’s problem until it’s you who’s stuck with something you can’t muster up the courage to ever get a solution.

When was the last time you even had time for yourself? Gods, you felt pathetic. At this point you think it’s all you’ll ever be, as terrible as it is, a pathological people pleaser.

“Come on,” Marco pulls you out of your self loathing. “Let’s get you back to your cabin, you need rest.”

“I’m okay,” You mumble, biting the inside of your cheek. Here you go again, acting like you’re fine when you’re not. Taking a deep breath, you meet Marco’s eyes with a smile. “I’ve got to get back to work, you know? I fear my absence this past week has affected a lot.”

Marco shook his head, chuckling at how stubborn you probably looked right now. “Still, I'll walk you back.”

“I’m okay, Marco, I swear-”

“Please,” His voice was firm, but there was this gentleness in his tone that made your heart flutter a bit. What in Apollo’s name is wrong with me? Ugh!

“Okay, fine.”

Marco quickly rose to his feet, a grin etched onto his handsome- No, I mean, attractive- fuck it face like he’d just won a million dollars in the lottery. “My lady?” he bowed in front of you, offering his hand out the way Luke always did whenever he was trying to make you laugh after he’d upset you or something. You took his hand, choosing to ignore what your mind—heart— wants, giving the boy in front of you a small, forced smile as he helped you onto your feet. “Shall we?”

You nod, letting go of his hand before it all feels weird and awkward. Gods forbid anyone sees you holding hands with Marco, not that it’s bad or that you’re ashamed, but there is one person you have in mind you would prefer not to see you frolicking like a teenager in love.

Well, you were, in fact, a teenager in love, but not with Marco Leon.

The two of you headed back to the cabins in complete silence. It was honestly deafening, to say the least, you just couldn’t bring yourself to utter a single word. With everything that’s happened today, you wanted nothing more than to run away and hide, to weep like a fucking disney princess in hopes of getting a fairy godmother to appear out of the blue to help solve all of your problems, even if the magic fades after midnight. Oh, what you would give to get that wretched, cursed, image of the boy who owns your heart and soul with that…that girl out of your mind for all eternity. If it was possible to rearrange and delete memories from your mind, you would’ve clicked the easiest option out.

As the cabins came into your view, you let out a soft sigh of relief. He’s not here yet, thank gods. You weren’t ready to face him, or her after what you’ve just seen in the place that was once exclusive to and your best friend. The thought alone of them kissing made your stomach churn so badly that you wanted to throw up. Oh no, did they….continue after Luke got back? You visibly cringed at the thought, gods of Olympus, why was your own mind punishing you like this? You look up at the sky, the sun is setting in the horizon, the serenity of the pink and orange hue in the clouds calming you down.

“Are you free tomorrow?” Marco asked as the two of you approached the vicinity of the cabins, your hands brushing against each other ever so slightly.

“I don’t think so,” You hum, your hair blowing against the evening summer breeze. “I’ve got to get back to my duties. Archery lessons, music, and arts and crafts, I think? Why?”

“Maybe you’d like these new…uh, arrows? Yeah, arrows, that’s right! Me and Beckendorf made them for you guys. Test them out before, you know, using them.”

“Yeah?” You ask, brows furrowed in confusion. “I didn’t know we had new arrows coming in.”

“Lee approved them, because you were unavailable? You were, you know? Sick?” Marco fumbled over his words, like your younger brother, Will, whenever he gets caught stealing Lee’s flannels.

“Oh, well then, I think I could squeeze you into my schedule tomorrow.” You smiled, though, a bit unsure if you could take a few minutes off of your hectic schedule—the same routine of events you always do.

“I’ll pick you up- no, I mean-”

Before you could utter a response, you heard screaming. “Connor Stoll, get your ass back here!”

What has he done this time? You thought, because you were the one who had to patch the younger Stoll brother whenever he got maimed by the one he was terrorizing. Usually, it was Luke who’d ask what his menace of a brother did, and the two of you would laugh about it after the said menace was out of earshot.

You see Connor Stoll running in your direction, with that shit eating grin he always has every time he’s successfully pulled off a prank. Behind him was an angry Katie Gardner, with a trowel in her hands as she chased after the speeding little shit- Connor. “Get back here, you little shit!”

“Never!” Connor yelled over his shoulder, zooming in your direction without looking where he was going, colliding into you, causing you to stumble backwards- You have got to be kidding me, falling into Marco Leon’s arms like you were in a goddamn romantic comedy movie.

“Hi,” Marco chuckled, his arm wrapped around your waist, holding you steady like you were a canvas and he was the easel. “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah, I-I’m okay…”

“Stoll’s a menace,” Marco laughed, helping you back onto your feet in one swift motion, his arm still placed firmly against your waist, his face just a few inches away from yours.

“When isn’t he?” You let out a shaky laugh, realizing that were probably campers gawking at you and Marco flirting like two leads in a movie. “You…uh, you can let go of me now.”

Embarrassment crept onto his handsome features like a plague, scratching the back of his head like he’d been caught stealing from the Big House or something. “Oh, yeah,” he chuckled awkwardly as he helped you back to your feet. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” You pat him on the shoulder like an absolute idiot, who the fuck pats a person? At least, no one else saw that, because if someone brings this up sooner or later, you were going to kill Connor Stoll. Though, it seems that everyone has gone to get dinner, and won't be back until after the campfire—which, you should be there for, as senior counselor and head of the Apollo cabin. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow? I mean, if I get the time and all.”

“Yeah, of course. Take your time! I’ll be right here- I mean, not here here, but at my cabin, or at the forge. Not here, where we’re currently standing.”

“See you tomorrow, Marco,” you chuckle, playfully rolling your eyes at him, starting to walk away from the oddly awkward Hephaestus counselor. “I’ll try to make time, I promise.”

“Wait, you’re not going to eat dinner?” Marco asks, walking three steps behind as you headed to your cabin, which was only next to his own.

“Eh,” you shrug, running a hand through your hair, which wasn’t as smooth as you wanted it to be. “I think we have a few snacks in the cabin.”

Marco raised a brow, a teasing smile on his lips. “You gonna survive on snacks alone?”

“I think so, though, it wouldn’t be as healthy as I’d prefer.”

“Tell you what,” Marco gently grabs your arm, prompting you to stop in your tracks, now just a few meters away from your cabin. “I’ll go grab you something healthy to eat from the pavilion so that you won’t have to make do with that unhealthy junk. How does that sound?”

“You’d do that for me?” You ask, shocked as to why he would offer such a thing. You weren’t a princess, so it doesn’t make sense that he’d bring you food like some sort of servant, which he absolutely wasn’t. Gods, you felt bad even just thinking about it. Though, a meal sounded nice, since you’ve haven’t gotten anything to eat yet since you’d left the infirmary.

“Of course! It’s no trouble, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Marco assured, letting go of your arm. “What about the campfire, though?”

“My siblings will come looking for me, I suppose.” Foolish of you to think that you could ever get a little time for yourself. Guess you’d never learn your lesson then, dutiful daughter of Apollo. A soft sigh escapes your lips, still reeling high from the events that had come to pass. Dad, I just want the day to end, I want to curl up in my bed and cry myself to sleep. Come on, let me just do this once? I promise I’ll be your perfect, responsible, but broken hearted daughter again!

Marco seemed to notice the change in your tone, his eyes locked with yours, as if he was looking for answers in your gaze. You didn’t even understand why he was doing all of this. Yeah, you’ve interacted with him every time he comes to you with a broken thumb from accidentally hitting himself with a hammer or well, any injury that comes with being a son of the blacksmith god. He took a step closer, so close to removing the distance that separates the two of you.

“You deserve rest, after everything you do for all of us here at camp.” Marco tucked strands of your hair behind your ear. “You’re not a robot, you’re human. They can’t make you do anything you don’t want to.”

Feeling a bit overwhelmed, you took three steps back, fighting the urge to break down again. You didn’t need that, you needed to get over your own feelings—figure them out before you lose your own mind trying to fix this mess of a puzzle called you. “Of..of course. I got to go, I-I need some time alone. Thanks, for everything.”

And with that, you turned your back and ran towards your cabin, without looking back.

Luke Castellan, you fucking asshole.

I wish you were here.

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