#but it’ll be over soon and it’ll go better than I expect I’m sure and I’ll be way better | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

javierpena-inatacvest · 16 days ago

Text

Chapter 3- Easier Said Than Done

Summary: Frankie's been by your side through some of the hardest moments in your life. Three years have gone by, and now there's no one you want to see less when you find yourself at your lowest.

Word Count: 4.1K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname)

Warnings: Angst, yearning, mentions of death, sick parent, descriptions of a panic attack, hospitals, teenage Frankie's back at it again making it impossible for us to hate him!!

A/N: Hello, my name is Madeline and I am unable to stop writing gut wrenching angst and yearning. (Hi, Madeline). Maybe one of these days I'll stop sobbing like an idiot when I write, but I fear that day may not be coming any time soon

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

You, Spring of 2006, Age 17

Most people say it’s the smell of hospitals they can’t stand. For you, it’s the noise. The constant chaos of voices, monitors, sirens, carts clattering as they roll across the never ending linoleum floor drives you insane. Even when it’s quiet, it’s still never silent. There’s always an ever present reminder looming in the distance to not get too comfortable. The inevitable fear that something could go wrong, and have you wishing that all you had to listen to was the ambiance of continual pandemonium.

That’s why it’s such a relief when you hear the quiet ping of your cell phone resting on the edge of your chair. It’s enough to drown out everything else for a little while.

Frankie :))))))

Hey where r u?

Game starts soon and I cant find u

Katie and Morgan said they havent seen u either

R u ok?

You

Yeah I’m ok.

Dad passed out and hit his head. Mom wasn’t home so I had to take him to the ER.

Called Coach K in the ambulance to tell her I won’t be there.

It’s times like these that it takes everything in you to remind yourself that missing big events to keep your dad alive is better than going to big events without him being here. But when you’re decked head to toe in your soccer uniform, sitting on the edge of your seat in a crowded emergency room instead of getting ready to start the last game of your senior year, it’s hard not to feel a little bitter about it.

You read back over Frankie’s texts as you wait for his response, doing the quick math in your brain before frantically typing back.

You

Wait, didn’t you have to work tonight? Are you at the field?

Frankie :))))))

Called off work weeks ago

U really think I would miss ur last game? Cmon Kenz

Guess its not a surprise anymore. Surprise! lol

You hope the nurse passing by doesn’t notice the way you’re grinning like an idiot at your phone, biting down on your bottom lip to keep your smile from growing so wide it’ll hurt your cheeks. You re-read the last three texts over and over, your face growing warmer each time. You’re not sure why you’d expect anything less. It still never fails to make you feel like your heart is seconds away from bursting at the seams.

Of course he came.

So lost in your train of thought, you hadn’t seen a fourth text pop up across your screen, only the fifth text of “???” that preceded it.

Frankie :))))))

R u at memorial or westwood hospital?

???

You

Memorial. Why?

Frankie :))))))

Be there in 15

You

Frankie you don’t have to do that

Frankie :))))))

2 L8! Already leaving! See u soon!

The tears welling in your eyes were most definitely ones of relief, joy even, that Frankie cared enough to attempt to make it to a soccer game you weren’t even at, let alone forgo a night’s worth of pay to drive himself to the hospital to see you.

Your momentary excitement comes to a sudden stop as onslaught of bodies rush into your room to examine your dad. You’re quick to realize you’ve once again been caught up in a stampede where you’re nothing but another person in the way. An invisible presences that means nothing to anyone in this room. It makes the once blissful wetness welling in the corners of your eyes start to sting with a vengeance.

But you’ve come very quickly to learn that crying doesn’t help anyone, especially when you’re not the one dying.

You try not to let it hurt when your mom doesn’t even acknowledge the fact you’re sporting the jersey of the team you were supposed to start playing with twenty minutes ago, like you had brought your dad to the hospital in your uniform because that and your cleats were the easiest thing to throw on before you called 911. It’s even harder to try not to scream at the fact she barely pays your presence any mind, not even so much as a ‘thank you’ for getting your dad to the hospital in one piece. What’s the most painful is that you’re positive that she, or anyone else, even notices you’re gone when you slip out the door.

You’re here so often that the hospital staff don’t mind that you pace up and down the rows of the waiting room. Sure, they’ll be sending you a bill for the hole you’re burning through their carpet eventually, but that’s not today’s problem.

Right now, part of the reason for your frantic pacing is to cool off some steam so you don’t say something you’ll regret about your dad’s cancer having the audacity to ruin the most important soccer game of your life to date.

You’re also here so often, the hospital staff know Frankie. So much so, that your favorite receptionist, Cassandra, has more than definitely broken several hospital rules to let Frankie stick around long past visiting hours when you’ve needed it most. That’s why all she has to do is give you that look to break you from your vicious cycle of pacing to let you know when he’s arrived through the sliding glass doors of the front entrance.

Most times, he at least makes it a few steps inside before you notice him. Tonight, he’s barely halfway through the door before you’re wrapping your arms around him in the tightest hug you have to muster. He pulls you in even tighter.

It’s then that the reality of it all starts to set in. Your best friend had to drive to meet you at the hospital because he’s the only one that remembers you have a soccer game tonight. Your dad is in a cyclical pattern of slowly dying that leaves you feeling like a terrible person for even wishing things were different. You’ve spent the past nine of your seventeen years of life only knowing a world that revolves around cancer. For nine years, you’ve never complained that this is the way your life has been. Tonight, you’ve decided that the weight of the world is un-fucking-fair.

Tonight, you’re not the one dying, but crying seems like the only reasonable thing left to do.

You should be embarrassed by how loud your sobs are, how quick the damn breaks once your body finally lets you give into the pain. These are the kind of tears that make your whole body shake, the ones that make your chest hurt because you can’t catch your breath, gasping for air like some poor, lifeless fish, begging to be thrown back to the sea.

Frankie’s seen you cry before, but not like this. You should care about how your tears are staining the fabric of his t-shirt, how he’s the only thing keeping you standing while your body feels like it’s about to give out underneath you. You hadn’t said a word to each other before you’d collapsed in his arms in a sobbing heap, but right now you don’t care. You can’t.

You’re sure words are exchanged at some point as he practically carries you out to his truck, at least giving you the decency to finish crying without unwanted eyes in the waiting room glued to you, but right now, you can’t remember.

You’re not sure how long it takes you to get back to the point of being able to breathe at a semi-normal pace, but something tells you that Frankie will hold you for as long as you need him too, crying or not.

He gently strokes your back, his thumb tracing over the fabric of your jersey as it draws small circles over and over, a sweet and simple dance of his fingers that steadies you just enough to keep from flying away.

“It’s okay, Kenz. It’s okay.” It’s melodic the way Frankie coos it in your ear, like he’s trying to hush a fussy baby fighting sleep. It’ll take time, persistence and patience, but lucky for you, he’s got all three in spades. “I promise you’re okay. I’m here.”

“This fucking sucks.” It’s not elegant or graceful, but it’s the truth, and right now, it’s all your brain can process.

“I know it is, Kenzie. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not fair. I don’t wanna spend the rest of my life worrying that this is the last day I see him. I just want life to be normal. I just wanna go play my stupid fucking soccer game. It’s not fucking fair.” You ball your fists against Frankie’s chest, pounding into him like he’s the one responsible for your hurt and anger. He’s not the one you need to take it out on, but he’s all you have. You hope he knows it’s not his fault he’s become your emotional punching bag as he takes blow after blow, despite how weak your swings are. You’ve got no strength left to fight.

“I know. It’s not fair. It’s not fair, MacKenzie.”

He takes it all until you have nothing left to give. You’ve lost a game no one ever has a chance of winning. Defeat is the unwanted trophy life rewards you with, but Frankie stands at the podium with you. He’ll take the hits if it helps ease the blow.

“Will you be okay if I’m gone for five minutes? Just five, I promise, and then I’ll be right back.” His question catches you off guard, breaking you from your agitated state, nodding your head just enough to give him the permission he needs to race back through the doors of the hospital as you climb into his passenger seat.

His truck gives you the kind of familiarity the hospital doesn’t. It’s hard not to find irony in the fact you feel safer in his piece of junk car where the wheels could give out beneath you at any moment than you do in a building that is built for saving people’s lives. Maybe it’s because his truck is filled with the memories of moments in life that make you feel like things are going to be okay.

With the way Frankie’s breathing as he jumps into the driver’s seat, it’s hard to think he’s not back in less than two minutes, rather than five. He doesn’t say a word to you as he cranks the ignition, only a little prayer under his breath that now’s not a time his engine has chosen to give out on him. He doesn’t let you ask any questions until you’re already on the road.

“Frankie, what’s- Frankie what are you doing?”

He’s got that crazed kind of look in his eyes he gets when he’s hellbent on making something happen. He always likes to say that you’re the stubborn one. It makes you wonder the last time he’s taken a good, hard look at himself in the mirror.

“I’m taking you to your game.”

He says it so matter of factly, like his response to nearly kidnapping you out of the Memorial Hospital parking lot shouldn’t warrant any questions.

“What?! Frankie! I can’t just-”

“The doctor in the room said he’s stable and he probably won’t be conscious for the next few hours anyways. Your mom said it’s fine. I’m not letting you miss out on this. You deserve to get to play, Kenz.”

You’re not sure at that moment if you want to kiss him or slap him across the back of the head. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.

“Frankie, I-”

“I’ll turn around and take you back if you want me to, but I don’t think you want me to turn around.”

God, maybe you do want to kiss him.

“I hate you, Francisco, I hope you know that.”

“I know. It’s okay, you play better when you’re angry, anyways.”

It’s always the little smirk in the corner of his mouth. The one he makes when he knows he’s right. It’s the same smirk he makes when he greets you after you’ve scored two goals to help your team win the last game of your high school career. The same one he gives you when he buys you ice cream to celebrate with two scoops of cookie dough instead of one, because you won’t stop laughing at his stupid joke about your big appetite for winning.

That night, you fall asleep on his couch, too tired to drive back to the hospital, too scared to sleep in your house alone. You’re not sure if you mean to doze off with your head resting against his thigh like some sort of makeshift pillow. It’s easiest just to blame it on the fact you’re too exhausted to get up. But as you close your eyes and drift to sleep, you’re almost sure that the only muscle Frankie dares to move is the one that pulls the line of his lips into that same smirk you’d rather die than live without.

You, Present

You’re shocked your initial response to seeing Frankie Morales for the first time in three years wasn’t immediately slamming your front door in his face and telling him to fuck off.

That’s what your body wanted you to do. For as badly as it did, your some part of your brain wouldn’t let you.

It’s probably the same, stupid part of your brain that won’t let you stop staring at him, either.

He looks good. Way better than you’d like him to. It doesn’t seem fair that he somehow manages to find a way to return home more handsome than when he left. It happens every damn time. You swear he does it on purpose. You don’t know how he could, but that’s what you tell yourself. It makes it easier to hate him.

“I didn’t know you were home.”

It’s probably the worst thing you could have said to break the awkward silence stewing between you, because you both know it’s a dirty lie. But at this point, you’re far past granting Frankie the privilege of being a part of the truth- you’ll give him your version of the truth that you want him to hear. You’re not letting him have the upper hand.

“Yeah. I uh- got home this morning.”

Good to know the best either of you could do was reduce your relationship down to nothing but lying. If that’s the game he wants to play, then so be it.

“Drive was good?”

“Yeah.” Lie. “You?”

“Fine.” Lie.

For as much as you know the lies hurt, it’s the curveball you hit him with next that you hope stings the worst.

“I didn’t think you were gonna come.”

Because that was the truth. The way his face drops tells you the guilt ridden punch you’ve socked him with hits exactly where you want it to. You want the truth to hurt more. You want it to hurt just as bad as the way his truth hurt you.

“Of course I was gonna come.”

It’s a poor attempt at a swing back. He showed up with a knife at your gun fight. He knows well enough you won’t show him any mercy.

“Wouldn’t have been the first time you hadn’t shown up for something important, Frankie.”

“Your dad’s fucking dying MacKenzie, what makes you think I wouldn’t be here?”

“Well, he’s been dying for the past three years so I’m glad you’re deciding to show up when it’s convenient for you.”

That one shuts him up real fucking fast.

His jaw ticks as he takes a deep breath, staring up at the sky like there’s something written in the clouds that will give him instructions on what to say next. There’s not much he could say at this point that would shock you, but Frankie never ceases to be full of surprises, whether you like it or not.

“I’m- fuck- I’m sorry, Kenz. I’m sorry.”

That shuts you up even quicker.

It shuts you up because you know he’s not lying. The truth is buried in the way his voice breaks at the start of your name, the way the “K” trembles off his tongue and shakes in the back of his throat.

Your heart is mangled in your chest, hearing him say the two words you’d never thought you’d get and realizing you can’t accept it.

“Sometimes sorry isn’t enough, Frankie.”

Neither of you are sure what to say. It’s tough to tell if the fight is over because Frankie’s stabbed you to death and you’ve unloaded every last bullet you had, or if you decided to put your weapons down and walk away before any casualties have occurred. While it’s hard to deny it’s the latter of the two options, at least the first one would have been the honorable way to go.

“Honey, is that Frankie at the door? Let him in, MacKenzie, don’t make him stand out there!”

If there’s one thing you can always count on your mom for, it's that she’ll never fail to have impeccable timing, for better or worse.

You don’t intend for the sigh you let out to be as loud as it is, but it certainly makes it clear to Frankie you aren’t happy about obliging to your mom’s request. You expect him to pass you like you don’t exist, entering your house to greet the two of the three family members who still care about him enough to not burn a hole through his chest every time they look at him, but he doesn’t. He waits for your okay, frozen on the porch until the subtle shrug of your shoulders signals you’ve given him the all clear to pass. He wants to know you’ll at least let him through unscathed for now.

You follow behind him as he enters your house, trying to ignore the fact you’re entranced by the dark brown curls that still tickle the nape of his neck as he walks, or how the width of his shoulders nearly stretch from one end of the door frame to the other. You’re starting to regret not letting him follow you in instead.

You nearly bump into him with how quick he is to freeze once he sees the state of your living room. In the past few weeks, it’s made a terrible transformation from the space you once knew to a makeshift hospital room. The hospice workers had crowded your house with beds, oxygen tanks, and a wheelchair your dad refuses to sit in, an endless puzzle of enough supplies to let your father die in his own home, rather than the cold, sterile wasteland of the nearest hospital.

You’d been able to ease yourself into your dad’s decline. You’d watched the months leading up to now as his body became weaker and sicker, reducing down to nothing but bones and deep, dark set eyes. You were a first hand witness to how cancer had greedily sucked every ounce of life he had left in him, taking and taking until he had nothing left to give.

Last time Frankie saw your dad he was in remission. He looked good, healthy, even. That was three years ago. Frankie would have never imagined barely being able to recognize the man that was the closest thing to a real father he’d ever get.

You want to scream at him that it’s his own damn fault he’s this shocked when he comes face to face with the shell of the man your dad used to be. But with the way you can practically see the guilt oozing out of Frankie with every step he takes towards the near lifeless body lying in the misplaced hospital bed in your living room, you can’t help but let your empathy get the best of you.

“Hi Frankie, how are you? It’s so good to see you, honey.”

Even though your mom knows you’re seconds away from wanting to dropkick Frankie off the face of the earth, there are few things she’ll ever let get in the way of her warm and welcoming demeanor.

Frankie’s still borderline speechless as your mom grabs the tray of cookies he’s been awkwardly toting before she embraces him, arms still glued to his sides like he’s too afraid to move. The way she’s got him in the hug gives him no choice but to stare at the unsettling image of your dad over her shoulder, barely strong enough to turn his head to see what all the fuss is about.

“H-hi, Mrs. Anderson. I’m okay. It’s good to see you, too.”

“Is that my Frank the Tank? C’mere, kiddo. I was hopin’ I’d get to see you.”

The past few weeks have made you shed enough tears to last a lifetime. Never once did you expect the thing that would make you cry the hardest out of everything you’d been through was hearing the long lost excitement in your dad’s voice upon Frankie’s return.

It’s childish, the way you storm upstairs and slam your bedroom door behind you without a word, heat seething through your veins at the way your dad was so quick to forgive, welcoming Frankie back into his home like a day hadn’t passed, like he had been there right alongside him every step of the way through his descent. Your blood boils at the fact your father can’t be bothered to remember that Frankie had been nowhere to be found for three fucking years. Not a text, not a call, not even a “Frankie says hi!” through his mother four doors down.

You can deal with the embarrassment of throwing a full blown temper tantrum later, but that’s more tolerable than spending another second in the same room as Frankie.

“Well,” your dad huffs, his face grimaced with sarcasm as he looks back and forth between your mom, Frankie, and the empty presence you’d left behind, “that went well.”

“Sorry about that, she’s um-”

“She’s fine. Just stubborn.” Your dad grumbles, cutting off your mom with the best attempt he can make to raise his arm from the bed and wave her off.

“No, I uh- it’s fine, I just- I should probably get going, don’t wanna take um- take up too much of your time.” Frankie’s heart sinks in the uncomfortable silence, quietly cursing himself for the mess he’s made.

“It’s what, 8 o’clock in the morning? You got a bingo game at the senior center you need to get to, young man?”

“No, I just-”

“Perfect, no is the only word I needed to hear.” Your dad weakly smiles, gently patting the edge of the bed for Frankie to join him.

Your heart winces hearing the heavy footsteps a floor below you from your bedroom, knowing the direction they’re heading is only further into your house and not back out the front door where you’d prefer him to be.

Thank goodness your dad has lost the ability to speak loud enough for you to hear the words that follow the thumps of Frankie’s feet.

“Frankie, I’ve lived a very happy life. There are few things about it I’d change. But you know just as well as me that my daughter is the one who so lovingly inherited my stubbornness. Lucky for me, God knows I’m stubborn enough not to die until you and her figure this out. Unlucky for the both of you, that my time for stubbornness is starting to run thin.”

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85 @raspberrybesitos

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper @vee-bees-blog @itsokbbygrl

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @jolapeno @ovaryacted

@amanitacowboy @mystickittytaco @anoverwhelmingdin @greenwitchfromthewoods

@witchofthedeepwoods @ericamarie093 @readingiskeepingmegoing @whimsiwitchy @whoaitspascal87

@vickie5446 @katw474 @ravenpoe67 @inthedarkestnight @brittmb115

@harryscherrysugar @wonderpillar @sunnytuliptime @pasc4lfuzz @yesjazzywazzylove-blog

@javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

201 notes · View notes

scribblesofagoonerr · 17 days ago

Text

first day jitters | like mother, like daughter mini series

summary: rascal starts her first day at big school and there's some apprehensive big feelings about the day.

like mother, like daughter masterlist

“Alright, yer’ got yer’ new backpack and yer’ shiny new shoes,” Katie was doing the quick checklist to make sure that you were ready and she hadn’t forgotten anything important while you slowly attempted to eat your breakfast cereal, “Okay rascal, I think yer’ ready for yer’ first day!”

Today’s the first day that you’re starting big school. You should be excited about it but instead there’s an uneasy feeling in your stomach, like when you had the chicken-pox before.

You don’t know what to expect.

Continuing to sit at the table, a pout on your face with your cereal still untouched, you’re very adamant about your own feelings right now, “I don’t want to go.”

Katie turned to glance in your direction as she checked over the lunchbox she had packed for you, “What was that, rascal?”

“I don’t want to go to big school today, Mammy,” You repeated, a little louder and clearer that definitely got Katie’s attention, “I want to stay home instead.”

“Yer’ don’t want to go?” Katie’s smile quickly turned into a concerned frown, “But yer’ were so excited the other day, kiddo. Yer’ going to have a whole bunch of fun and make a lot of new friends!”

“I changed my mind, I don’t want to go anymore,” You declared, shaking your head promptly as you crossed your arms against your chest, “Stay here, stay with you!”

“Rascal, yer’ can’t stay with me. I have to go to work, remember? I have to go and train for the game,” Katie explained delicately as she moved to crouch down in front of you, “Will yer’ tell Mammy why yer’ don’t really want to go to school?” She asked in a gentle tone of voice.

“I’m scared, Mammy,” You admitted as your bottom lip wobbled in fear about the day ahead and the apprehensive feeling you had.

“I know yer’ scared, but yer’ going to make loads of friends and have lots of fun!” Katie insisted still in that attentive yet gentle tone of voice.

“What if the other kids’ don’t like me, or… or what if my teacher turns out to be a meanie?” You worried about the things that could happen and it made you feel even more uneasy than before.

Katie furrowed her eyebrow and shook her head, “Hey, yer’ listen to me, okay? Yer’ listening to Mammy, yeah?” She paused to make sure you were paying attention, “I promise yer’ that nobody will ever pick on yer’ at all, alright?”

“They won’t?” Your little voice doesn’t sound that convinced.

“Course not!” Katie insisted louder while still shaking her head, “Yer’ my daughter and us McCabes? We stick up for ourselves!”

You beamed a wide smile, “I just like you, Mammy!”

“Exactly, and yer’ know that means yer’ a tough little cookie just like me! So yer’ don’t need to worry about being picked on,” Katie squeezed your knee gently.

“What about my teacher?” You had a puzzled expression on your face, weary about your new teacher, although you have previously met her.

“Yer’ don’t need to worry about her either, we’ve already been and met her before remember?” Katie reminded you about the time when you went to visit your big school with Katie and Ruesha to meet your new teacher, “And yer’ liked her didn’t yer’?”

You thought about it for a brief second before you nodded, “She’s nice.”

“See? Yer’ going to be absolutely fine, Rascal. I promise!” Katie reassured you with a kind smile, “Now, do you think yer’ can eat yer’ breakfast now? We’re gonna have to go soon, and it’ll be better if yer’ tummy’s full, won't it?” She joked, prodding at your stomach lightly.

Standing outside of the tall gates was daunting to you, but being here with Katie and Ruesha, who made sure she was available for the day and met you at school gates, made things seem that little bit better.

“Alright, this is it, rascal,” Katie was the first one to speak up as the three of you stood in the playground, surrounded by other parents and kids, who were feeling the same way that you did, “Yer’ ready to go in there and learn?”

“It’s a big school,” You murmured nervously.

Katie hummed in agreement as she looked at the school in front of her, “It is a big school, isn’t it?” she chuckled, wrapping a free arm around your shoulder.

“Too big, it looks scary!” You mumbled, inching closer to the brunette to try and hide behind her leg.

“I know it looks scary, kid, but look there’s a cool playground,” Ruesha crouched down to your own level, “Doesn’t that look fun? You’re going to have the best day, today. Right, Katie?” She checked with her ex-girlfriend.

“Yeah, yeah. Yer’ Mamas’ right there, rascal,” Katie nodded in agreement with her ex, “You’re going to have a lot of fun doin’ all that fingerpainting and reading and well the extra stuff– You’re not going to miss either of us.” She reassured you, trying to be as honest as possible.

You continued to shake your head in determination that you didn’t want to go in, “I don’t wanna go in.”

“Rascal, we talked about this though, didn’t we? Yer’ gotta go in there, kid,” Katie explained carefully, reminding you of what the pair of you talked about earlier on, “I promise yer’ going to have so much fun, kid.”

“Please, Mammy. I don’t wanna– I wanna come with you. I don’t wanna go in there!” You plead, attempting to cling onto her trouser leg and look up at her with wide eyes, “I don’t wanna go in!” You repeated, scared.

“Yer’ have to go in,” Katie continued to try and coax you closer towards the doors to go inside.

“No, I don’t want to,” You mumbled, shaking your head, determined you weren’t going in as you looked towards Ruesha, “Mama, I… I don’t want to go in. Please don’t make me go in!”

Ruesha exhaled a sigh and scratched the back of her head, “Well, eh, that’s okay. How about we could try again tomorrow?” She suggested.

“No Rue, she has to start school today,” Katie gave Ruesha a firm look before peering back down to look at you, “I know you're scared, rascal, but there’s lots of other kids’ here that feel the same way that you do, remember?” she reminded you.

“I know, Mammy,” You mumbled, prising your small hands around Katie and clinging onto her still, “I don’t wanna go in though!” You declared.

Katie exhaled a sigh but knew she needed to stand firm on her decision, “I know you don’t want to, but remember what we talked about during breakfast, don’t yer’?”

“I’m a McCabe, and McCabes’ stick up for themselves!” You insisted, puffing out your chest promptly although you're still very hesitant to want to go into the school building right at this very moment.

“Atta’ girl,” Katie chuckled while she ruffled your hair, “Yer’ gonna be fine, rascal.”

Now it was Ruesha’s turn to look unimpressed at Katie, “Don’t tell me you’ve been telling our daughter to go around fitting with her fists.”

“Well, no not exactly…” Katie mumbled, scratching the back of her head awkwardly, “I just said if she needed to stick up for herself then she can.” She added.

“Unbelievable,” Ruesha scoffed and shook her head before she looked down at you, “Don’t listen to your Mammy, you don’t hurt people at all. Violence is not the answer.”

“But Mama, Mammy always says it is,” You tell her innocently with wide eyes fluttering between Katie and Ruesha, “Right, Mammy?”

“Eh, well, sometimes, you see Rascal…” Katie began to speak as lucky for her, your new teacher appeared to greet the three of you.

“Well hello there!” A warm voice called out, breaking the little standoff between you and the two of them, she had a kind smile on her face as she walked over to the three of you, “Are you ready to come and join us?” She asked in a kind tone of voice.

You didn’t bother to speak as you continued to look between Katie and Ruesha in apprehension.

“Yer’ gonna go in, rascal?” Katie nudged you slightly forward with a soft and reassuring smile on her face.

“I don’t wanna go in, Mammy,” You murmured your response, shaking your little head in disagreement.

“Come on kid,” Ruesha tried her luck to coax you towards the doors, “I know you’re going to have so much fun. I bet when we pick you up later, you’re gonna have had so much fun that you’re not gonna want to leave, eh?” She wondered.

You pouted in disagreement, firm in your choice that you definitely didn’t want to go in, “No, I stay with you both instead!”

“Yer’ can’t do that though Rascal,” Katie frowned, deep in regret that she was making you go into school after all, but this is something that you had to do now.

Your new teacher knelt down to be on the same level as you and was giving you a soft smile, “I know that starting a new school can be a bit scary sometimes, can’t it?” She questioned as you nodded in agreement, “We have some really fun activities waiting for you inside, would you like to come and see what we have?” She suggested.

That started to pique your interest about what there might be, “What activities?” You wondered, curiously.

“Well we have a little bit of everything set up. We have a section for painting,” Your teacher told you, still in that kind tone of voice, “Do you like painting?” She asked.

“I do,” You replied in agreement, nodding your little head in a fast motion as you slowly released your hands from around Katie’s legs.

“You do?” Your teacher fauxed a gasp, “Well then, would you like to come and see what we have set up? Maybe you can paint a picture for your Mammy and Mama, hm?”

“Yeah!” You agreed enthusiastically, liking the sound of that after all, “But I’ll have to make 2 pictures though. My Mammy and Mama don’t live together anymore.”

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem too much,” Your teacher said, nodding along with your short ramble, “Well how about we say goodbye to your Mammy and Mama, and we head inside to take a look?” She asked.

“O… Okay then,” You agreed, you’re still a bit hesitant to go in but the idea of painting a picture does sound like a lot of fun at least, “Do I get to find my own peg as well?”

“Ah yes you do, I’m glad you remembered that,” Your teacher responded with her usual pepiness in her tone of voice.

You smile a little brighter as you turn to look at Katie and Ruesha, “It’s okay, I will be brave now,” You paused for a minute, “I’m gonna have fun. Bye, Mammy. Bye, Mama!” You waved, exchanging a small hug with both of them.

Katie was the first to bend down and wrapped her arms around your small frame, “Bye Rascal, have fun at school, and don’t miss me too much okay? I love yer’,” She said, feeling the tears well up in her own eyes at the reality of you going to big school now.

“Come here you little monster,” Ruesha joked, coaxing you into her embrace, “Have fun, okay? But not too much fun. I wanna pick you up and hear about all the great things you’ve done today.” She said, feeling herself get emotional as well as she squeezed you gently in her arms.

“Mama, you’re squeezing too tight,” You struggled to wriggle free from her as you giggled, “I’ll be okay, I’m brave. Love you both!” You said, giving them another wave with a newfound determination to conquer big school.

“Bye rascal,” Katie murmured, standing up straight as she waves while watching you walk through the doors of the school, “She’s growing up so fast.” She mumbled aloud.

“Yep, it doesn’t seem like five minutes ago since she was born,” Ruesha said in response, standing up and wiping a few tears from her eyes, “Where’d the time go?”

Katie took no shame in wiping a few stray ones from her eyes and nodded, “It went quick,” She replied as she shook her head, “Er, right, well… She finishes school around 3. Do yer’ want to pick her up, or should I come and pick her up?” She wondered.

“How about we do it together?” Ruesha questioned, making Katie blink in disbelief, “Surely we can get along for one day for the sake of our kid, right?” She asked.

“Well, er, yeah I guess so,” Katie shrugged her shoulders and shoved her hands in her pockets, “Alright then… I’ll see yer’ back here.” With that, she gave Ruesha a nod, her voice a little softer than usual, before making the quick escape back to her car.

Only after she closed the door behind her, she let out a shaky breath and allowed the tears that she’d finally held back to finally fall.

It was a bittersweet mix of pride and heartache - watching you, her little rascal, take this big step into the world.

#woso x reader #katie mccabe x reader #like mother like daughter fic #scribblesofagoonerr #woso fanfics #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #ruesha littlejohn x reader

145 notes · View notes

jacobsbigmelons · 8 months ago

Note

Jacob has the visceral need of breeding his bf

Creaking Wood

Jacob Custos x Male Reader

IM BACK CHAT (for the most part) expect hopefully more activity from me 😭

cw: Nsfw, slight alcohol consumption, jacob being fine asl, Breeding (obv), and a top bunk holding onto dear life bc it has to hold up two guys going at it…

The crackling of the fire pit, aroma of beer and whistling of the wind set the perfect scene as the summer councilors sat around the fire conversing with one another. Your conversation with Emma came to a close, though as you felt as if someone was watching, lo and behold the hunk of meat who just couldn’t keep his doe eyes off you.

You took a sip of your almost finished Corona as you stare at Jacob back, your face beginning to tingle a bit from the beer but you also can’t help but feel it’s because of your boyfriend. You both stare for what felt like slight eternity until Ryan made a comment.

“Someone’s distracted” Ryan said to your left as he directed his gaze to Jacob than back to you

“Pfft, yeah okay.” You scoffed playfully, rolling your eyes in the process as you got up as you finished off your drink, crushing it up making sure to dispose of it properly. “I’m gonna go charge my phone inside i’ll be back though!” you explained to the group as you began to walk backwards, hands up, phone in one of them.

“Ay wait lemme come with!” Jacob yelled out, not even paying attention to Abby’s warnings to be safe on the walk…or maybe that was the alcohol. He walked over as you finally turned around walking correctly, giving a slight wave to the people still around the fire.

The stairs up to the cabin you and him shared creaked with each step you guys took, the darkness not helping with illuminating expect for the occasional lamp and or phone flashlight

“So w..what made you wanna come with?” You questioned, voice barely slurred.

“I mean if you want me to turn back I can~” Jacob playfully teased as a Tsk left your mouth and Jacob began to laugh

“Dumbass you know that’s not what I mean” Though a smile couldn’t help but come through before Jacob wrapped a hand around your waist, the floors creaking as you two walked inside. Soon closing the door as he pulled you a little closer to him, your walking paused as you allowed him to just hug you for a bit. The buzz of alcohol rushed across your face in the moment, even sober you know Jacob wanted to be around or in some way holding you so a buzzed Jacob is definitely gonna be clingy.

“So how long does it take for your phone to charge?” He questioned though the tone sounded a little suggestive, you took the time to go and climb your bunk as Jacob followed behind. “It’ll take a bit for it to charge, a good bit honestly so…do with that what you will” You said as you watched your boyfriend join you on the top bunk, his arm going around you as the silence fills the air for a second.

“Their tipsy~ they won’t check on us” Jacob said in an almost mischievous tone, his arm around you slowly moving to your face to move your lips towards his, though for someone with little brains he at least knew how to be a good kisser. It didn’t take long after that for Jacob to end up giving your bunk a run for its money. Jacob’s hand had your mouth covered as you felt his other hand keeping your back arched while he fucked you into the mattress.

“Fuckk babe you feel so good~” He moaned a bit as he got close to speak into your ear, looking back he’s even wearing his backwards hat which somehow just made the whole scene better even if you couldn’t fully see your boyfriend in what little moonlight there was.

All you could do was make muffled noises as you felt him go in and out, still making sure he’s got a good hold of you but now his hands moved down to hold you by the lower back as he made sure he made it all the way inside of you by going fast and pulling out until he begins to keep thrusting. “Shit i’m close-“ Jacob said almost like he was wincing, as if he didn’t want to finish yet.

You began to push yourself back into him as you gripped the bedsheets, being just as close, you needed that last bit of effort to bring you and Jacob to the edge. The fast thrusting soon coming to an end as you felt his cum slowly dripping as he pulled out, breaths heaving as the dopamine begins to pass until you ask a question both of you need to figure out

“How do we clean this up-“ D:

#jacob custos #the quarry #the quarry jacob #jacob custos x reader #jacob custos my fucking beloved #jacob custos x male reader #the quarry jacob custos #x male reader

379 notes · View notes

cinnoasch · 3 months ago

Text

A Lesson in Blacksmithing (March x Reader)

A/N: I've been obsessed with Fields of Mistria so I decided to write for it! Its a little bit different from what I usually post but it was really fun to write! Story under the cut!

Word Count: 1432

“Okay… I think I got everything.” You mumble as you double-check your backpack.

After Errol and Eiland reopened the mines, you had spent everyday there gathering copper and all sorts of materials. You’d been wanting to upgrade your tools for a while now, though technically, you could just buy them from March and Olric. Sure, it was easier to just buy; you’d probably have an easier time dealing with everything on the farm and in the mines with better tools. But, you wanted to actually forge your tools yourself. There was just something about that feeling you got after a hard day's work on the farm. You wanted that same feeling in everything you did. Especially after last week when March gave you a copper hoe and told you he thought you were in over your head in running the farm. Of course, you didn’t necessarily need to prove anything to him, but you wanted to show that you were serious about helping Mistria.

And so, you set off into town, checking the request board, greeting people as you pass by and finally you stand in front of the blacksmith’s. To your surprise, March wasn’t hammering away at the forge like usual, but just in case you decide to check if he’s inside the shop first.

“Oh, Y/N! Mornin’!” Olric greets with a grin as you peek inside.

“Good morning, Olric. Is March here? I just wanted to ask if I could borrow the forge.”

“He’s out on a job right now, so he’ll be back later. Go ahead and use it! You don’t have to ask, I’m sure March won’t mind!”

“Thanks Olric!”

With that you head over to the forge and get to work. For the most part, you had expected this to be smooth sailing. March had made it look so easy after all…well probably because he’s been doing it forever. At first, it wasn’t too bad, you had managed to forge yourself a durable copper sword. And then came the fatigue.

As you hammer away, attempting to forge a new copper pickaxe, your arms feel like they’re about to give out. You would’ve thought that all of that mining and farm work would have made you stronger. In a sense it did, though probably not enough to continuously forge weapons for hours on end. Well, hours for you at least.

“Hey, Y/N, how’s it going? Need some help?” You look up to see Olric step outside from the shop.

“Oh, hi Olric.” You sheepishly smile at him. “Could you take a look at my sword, actually?”

“Sure!” He walks over, picking it up and nodding as he looks it over. “I think it looks pretty good!”

“Thanks! Though, I’m sure March would have some criticisms about it.”

Olric chuckles, “Maybe. But hey, it’s good for your first time! Oh, here.” He hands you a glass of water. “Drink up! You’ve been at it for a while.”

You set the hammer down, taking the glass. “Thank you. I have to say blacksmithing is harder than I thought. I didn’t expect to be here this long.”

“Well, you’re new to it, so it’ll take some time. But, before you know it you’ll be done within a matter of minutes. And, breaks would help. No use in overworking yourself.”

“Right, thank you Olric.” You down the glass of water and smile. “Alright, quick little break and then back to work!”

“That’s the spirit! Good luck Y/N!”

With that Olric leaves, heading off in the direction of the inn. Meanwhile the hours pass by as you continue working, taking small breaks along the way to give your arms a rest. Soon the sun begins to set, and you start on your last tool. You don’t notice March walking back to the shop as you focus on the task at hand.

“Oh. It’s you.” You hear his familiar voice and look up to see March standing there as you swing the hammer down.

“Hi March. How was your job?”

“Fine.” He replies absentmindedly as his focus turns to your newly forged weapons on the ground. “You’ve been here all day?”

“Yeah, I wanted to get all of them done. Did you need the forge? I can stop if you-”

“Just keep going. Not like I’m going to get much done now.”

With that, you keep on hammering as you see March pick up your sword from the corner of your eye. He turns it around in his hands, inspecting it carefully. He doesn’t say anything but you definitely see him frown. Then his attention turns to you and his frown deepens.

“Your form is all wrong.”

You turn your head and stand up straight, handing the hammer to him. “Do you mind showing me then?”

March lets out an annoyed sigh as he takes the hammer from you. You move out of the way so he can take your place in front of the anvil. To be honest, you never watched March all that closely when he worked. Mainly it was because whenever you did, he would grumble and glare at you, saying that you were distracting him.

“Hey.” March snaps his fingers. “Stop daydreaming. I’m only showing you once, so pay attention. If you mess up, you can’t blame me.”

“Sorry. I’m watching.”

March begins to demonstrate, explaining that you needed more force when swinging the hammer down. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but somehow, this seemed to be different than you remembered. Didn’t he always use two arms when swinging? So maybe you were doing it wrong this whole time, but why was he still showing you the incorrect way?

“Got it?” He asks, pushing the hammer into your hands. “Your turn.”

You take it as he moves out of the way. Like you’ve been doing, you place one hand on the anvil and grip the hammer. Then you swing down.

March grumbles as he steps up behind you, holding your arm with one hand and placing the other beside yours on the anvil. “Like this. You need to keep the tension in your arm.”

You stiff up unintentionally as March brings your arm up and swings it down, hitting the metal with a clank.

“There.” He steps to the side, letting go of your arm. “Now you try.”

You nod, adjusting your grip on the hammer and swing it down. You glance at him and he only gestures for you to continue.

Within a few minutes, you set the hammer down and look at your finished copper shovel with a grin. You nod to yourself proudly as you look at the tools in front of you.

Then March clears his throat, “You sure look proud for someone who took forever.”

“Well, yeah. I'm happy I was able to do this all by myself. Besides, you helped me out, so thank you for that.”

“Yeah, well, your form was still wrong.”

“Huh?”

“You're supposed to use two arms. Makes the process a whole lot faster.” He says with a slight smirk.

“... And you didn't think to tell me that? Or show me correctly?” You glare at him.

“Well, I just thought you'd remember at least, since you're always around here.”

You blink a few times, gears turning in your brain. Then this time you smirk and March frowns. “What?”

“Oh nothing. But, I must say, you're a sly one, March.”

This time March blinks, unsure of what you're getting at. “What are you talking about?”

“You know, giving me that hoe was one thing, but if I didn’t know any better I’d be starting to think you might not dislike me all that much.”

He scoffs, crossing his arms. “Whatever. Just make sure you do it correctly next time.”

“Sure thing.” You grin. Then you start gathering up your tools, stuffing them into your backpack. “Oh by the way, here.” You say handing March a perfect copper ore. “I found it in the mines, thought it’d be more useful for you than me.”

March raises an eyebrow at you but takes the ore. “...huh, I could make something really nice out of this. Thanks, Y/N.”

“Mhm, see you later.” You wave as you pick up your things and head back to the farm.

March only watches as you leave, then looks down at the ore in his hand. His mind wanders back to earlier when he had grabbed your arm. He frowns, stuffing the ore into his apron pocket as he starts walking towards the inn with a heavy sigh. “I need a drink.”

#fields of mistria #fom march #march x reader #fields of mistria x reader #march fields of mistria #fom march x reader

221 notes · View notes

kinkyrafe · 1 month ago

Text

Two Hours, Eighteen Minutes

Kinktober, October 12

THIS WORK IS 18+ ! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary:

The one where Rafe is edged for exactly two hours and eighteen minutes.

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, domme!reader, sub!rafe, very explicit

taglist: @yagirlwrites @audzzz @valyrianflower @aariahnaa

Rafe and you haven’t been able to meet up for a couple of days now. It’s still way too early in the relationship to even think about moving in together, though a part of you can’t help but wonder what it would be like. Another part of you isn’t entirely sure if Rafe and you even like each other outside the bedroom.

The sex is incredible, no doubt—the best you’ve ever had. Your gut tells you it’s the same for him. You’d introduced him to this whole world only a couple of months ago, and so far, he’d embraced every part of it. He worships you.

Still, sex alone doesn’t make a relationship, and you can’t help but get insecure sometimes. You wonder whether he’s more enamored with the way you dominate him than who you are. But those thoughts disappear as soon as your phone rings the minute you leave your office.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Rafe’s voice rasps through your AirPods. “How did your presentation go?”

Your heart warms. He’d sent a couple of good luck texts throughout the day, but hearing his voice check in felt different—more intimate.

“It went really well,” you reply, pushing through the door and heading down the stairs. “They loved the proposal. It’s basically accepted; I’ll know by Monday.”

“Sounds great,” Rafe responds. You can almost hear the smile in his voice.

“Yeah. Thank you for checking in, babe. How’s your day?”

“Eh,” he sighs, “boring as fuck, but okay.”

“Are you off work already?” you ask, your voice turning suggestive. “I could think of a couple ways to make your day more exciting.”

“One more client,” he groans. “I could be at your place in maybe one and a half hours. Two, max.”

You grin, an idea already forming. “I’ll give you an incentive to hurry then,” you say smugly, unlocking your car. “I’m gonna time how long it takes you to get here. However long it takes, that’s how many minutes I’ll edge you tonight.”

His groan is instant, guttural. “Babe, no, you can’t do that to me.”

“Aw, I’ve done worse,” you tease, waving goodbye to your coworker in the parking lot. “Just think about how good it’ll feel when I finally let you come.”

“Fuck, babe. I’m hard already,” he admits.

You laugh softly, “Better behave for that last client then.”

“I will, I just need a second,” he chuckles.

“Maybe we should stop talking. The clock’s ticking.” And with that, you hang up, leaving him to stew in his anticipation.

Two hours and eighteen minutes. That’s the time he has to last tonight.

You order Rafe to sit on the couch, and he obeys without hesitation. There’s a mix of excitement and tension in his eyes as you stand over him, watching his every move.

“The only thing you need to do is obey,” you remind him with a wicked grin. “I’ll handle the rest.”

First, you tie his hands behind his back, tight but not too tight—just enough to remind him of his place. Then, you hold the ball gag in front of his mouth, giving him that familiar, expectant look. He knows the routine, so you prompt him anyway, “Remind me of your safe words and the gestures for when you’re gagged.”

He quickly shows you, and you nod approvingly. “Good boy. Open up.”

He opens his mouth willingly, and you fit the gag between his lips, securing it behind his head. Then you grab the blindfold, wrapping it around his head and plunging him into darkness.

You move behind him, kneeling on the couch, so his back is against your chest, his body sitting between your legs. “Spread those legs wide,” you command, your voice low and firm.

He obeys, his thighs parting for you.

“Keep them spread. That’s your only job today. Keep those legs open for me.”

You set a timer on your phone and place it beside you. “Two hours and eighteen minutes,” you murmur into his ear, your breath hot against his skin. “When the timer goes off, you can come whenever you’re able.” You lean closer, lips grazing his neck. “Until then, you’re mine to play with.”

You hit start on the timer. It’s going to be a long, teasing stretch—especially since he can’t see how much time has passed. The power of control pulses through you, making you feel downright diabolical.

Leaning in, you press a soft kiss just below his ear, his sensitive spot. His cock twitches, a low moan escaping his gagged lips.

“Mmm, so responsive already,” you praise, smiling against his neck. You start by spanking his inner thighs, alternating between slow strokes and stinging slaps, enough to make his skin redden. You drag your nails across the heated flesh in between sets, making him shiver.

“Has it been two hours yet?” he manages to ask through the gag, humor barely hiding his discomfort as you land a slap dangerously close to his balls.

You smirk. “Still in a joking mood?” You slap him harder, making his legs tremble as he tries to keep them spread. You dig your nails into his thigh, watching his body strain against his binds.

"Remember," you say, your voice feigning innocence as you lightly tap his balls, "the gag is there for a reason. I don't want to hear you speak, understood?"

He nods quickly, his thighs quivering with the effort of holding himself open for you. When his knees shift in slightly, instinctively protecting his sensitive balls, you tap them harder.

“Open your legs for me,” you command. His legs fly apart immediately, and you smile. “Good boy. Keep them wide like that.”

Then, you wrap your hand around his cock, stroking slowly. He’s rock hard, his cock twitching in your hand. It doesn’t take long before he’s edging closer and closer, his body tensing with every touch. But you don’t let him have the release he’s dying for. You build him up, only to pull him back from the edge over and over.

Twenty minutes in, he’s already a moaning, trembling mess, his body on fire from your teasing. His legs start to close, just a little, betraying his struggle to hold back. You grab the paddle this time and smack his thighs, hard.

“Spread your legs,” you snap, “or I’ll make this even harder.”

His groan is loud, almost desperate, but he obeys, his knees jerking back apart. You tilt his head back by the chin to keep him upright, and then you start playing with his nipples, flicking your knuckles over the hardened buds. He whimpers, his hips bucking helplessly.

“Poor boy,” you tease, twisting his nipples harshly. “I haven’t even started on these yet.”

You work his nipples relentlessly, twisting and tugging, pulling soft, pathetic moans from his throat. You know you could make him cum just from this alone if you wanted to.

Every time his legs twitch closed, you shove them back open, spanking him hard to remind him who’s in charge. He’s been warned multiple times.

You don’t talk much during the session; your actions are enough. The control, the power—you don’t need to rile him up with words. His body is already past the point of begging, past coherent thoughts, just reacting to your every touch.

After an hour and a half, you really need to change positions. You untie him briefly and order him to kneel on the couch, his knees spread wide. Then, you bend him over, his chest and head pressed against the cushions, his ass raised high.

With his hands still tied behind his back, the position is uncomfortable, but you know it’ll help him last longer. You wrap a cock ring around his balls without warning, and he lets out a choked groan of relief—until he feels the cold lube drizzle over his hole.

“You didn’t think I’d make this easy, did you?” you ask, your voice playful as you slide the prostate massager inside him. He shakes his head, swallowing around the gag.

His body is so tense, every jerk of his hips is unnatural, his movements erratic as he fights to hold himself back.

You barely have to do anything now. Holding his cock in both hands, you run slow circles over the sensitive head, teasing him. His body is past words now. You can’t remember the last time he managed to choke out a proper “please.” All that escapes his mouth are desperate sounds—soft “oh��s and gasps of tortured pleasure.

You listen, savoring every noise, each gasp and groan. “Such pretty noises you’re making for me... am I making you feel good?”

You stroke him firmly, up and down his length, watching as his body convulses, his breathing ragged and uneven. His hips jerk upwards as the build-up of his orgasm starts again, only to sink back down onto the couch when you stop your ministrations.

You smile. This is what people mean when they say you can play someone’s body like an instrument. Every word, every touch, every slight movement—his body responds without thought. He’s a puppet, and you’re pulling the strings.

He’s so close now, but you don’t let him cum. Not yet.

“Too bad,” you coo, “you still have some time to go.” Luckily for him, it’s only another minute and a half, but he doesn’t need to know that. You resume your slow, torturous pace, keeping him on the edge. His body is trembling uncontrollably now, every muscle tensing and releasing as if he’s barely holding on.

The room is filled with the sounds of his ragged breaths, muffled whimpers, and the soft ticking of the timer. You love every second of it—watching him strain, seeing how desperate he is to let go but knowing he can’t. Not yet.

Just as you run your fingers lightly over his sensitive cock again, the timer goes off.

The sound fills the room, but Rafe doesn’t notice at first. He’s too far gone, too overwhelmed by everything you’ve done to him. When it finally registers, a sob of relief escapes him. His whole body slumps forward, barely held up by the restraints. You smile, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

“You made it,” you whisper, your voice filled with praise. “So, so good, babe.”

You remove the cock ring, and with just a few firm strokes, his entire body tenses again. The moans that rip from his throat are muffled by the gag as his orgasm crashes through him like a tidal wave. You can feel every tremor, every shudder, as his body shakes uncontrollably, ropes of cum spilling from his cock as you continue stroking him through it. He’s completely, utterly ruined, just how you wanted him.

When he’s finally spent, you slowly untie his wrists, careful not to let him collapse into an awkward position. You remove the blindfold and the gag, stroking his hair softly, letting him catch his breath.

“I love seeing you like this—completely ruined, all because of me,” you say with a satisfied smile as you wipe the cum from his body with a warm cloth. He’s too exhausted to respond immediately, his breathing still labored, but he manages a small chuckle.

“My brain always clocks out about halfway through,” he admits with a breathless laugh. His voice is hoarse, and you can see the openness in his eyes. It’s one of your favorite parts, how completely vulnerable and raw he is after a session like this.

“Yeah?” you ask, grinning as you lie down beside him on the couch, pulling him into your arms. “And yet you made it all the way through.”

He leans into you, his body finally relaxed, spent. “I never would’ve thought I’d love this so much,” he murmurs, a hint of awe in his voice.

You kiss his forehead gently, running your fingers through his hair. "You trust me," you say softly, "and that's everything."

A few weeks ago, he might’ve been shy or embarrassed about how deeply he’s fallen into submission, but not anymore. Now, he’s comfortable. Confident. There’s no shame, no hesitation. He knows he’s completely safe with you, that you’ll always take care of him—even when you push him to his limits.

He’s quiet for a while, just resting against you as you stroke his back, giving him the aftercare he needs. It’s a peaceful moment, a contrast to the intensity of everything that just happened. You savor it, holding him close, knowing that these quiet moments are just as important as the play itself.

Eventually, he looks up at you, his eyes filled with warmth. “Thank you,” he says, his voice soft but sincere. “For everything.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Always,” you reply. And you mean it.

#sub!rafekinktober #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #obx #sub!rafe #kinktober #drew starkey #subby boys

117 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 7 months ago

Note

have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble

i’m such a sucker for a fake dating trope, could i request a drabble with eddie or tasm!peter? (i feel like out of all of the boyfriends they are the most likely to do it lol) <3

Thanks for requesting lovely!

Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 686 words

You drop Eddie’s hand as soon as you’re around the corner. “Baby?” your voice comes out disgusted, blissfully steady. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“I don’t have a shit ton of practice being couple-y,” he replies, huffy. “Sorry if I didn’t have time to whip out my domestic dictionary.”

You shrug. “Guess I just expected a little more creativity from you.” He does spend most of his time fucking around with chords and making up stories involving dragons and mages.

You cross your arms, walking with a couple of feet between you and your part-time boyfriend now that there’s no one around to see. Eddie turns to look at you, his hair falling over his shoulder. “You like it.”

He’s teasing, you think. He can’t possibly know that. But your face heats and you can’t look up from the sidewalk, because there had been an undeniable commotion in your stomach when Eddie had said in front of everyone, voice smooth and sweet as iced tea, You getting tired, baby? I’m about ready to head out.

It had been a warm sort of commotion, more bees than butterflies, buzzing all the way from the pit of your stomach up into your brain, where they’ve stayed, humming quietly even now.

You try to pass your flustering off as pique, rolling your eyes and making sure Eddie sees. “It’s infantilizing,” you say. “I hate when guys call girls that, it’s so weird. I’m not a literal baby.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” You look over, and Eddie’s grinning at you now, laying it thick on in the way he has been all night, except that was for show and this appears to be just for you. With how wobbly it makes your limbs feel, you don’t know how much more of it you can take. “You seemed a lot like a baby, the way you let me open every door for you all day and were just about falling asleep on my shoulder a couple of minutes ago.”

And just like that, the happy buzzing quiet. Real indignation sparks to life in your chest. “I thought you were just being chivalrous for a minute there, but I figured that was ridiculous.” For a second, Eddie looks confused. “And anyway,” you go on, “it’s not like you were any better. I thought I was gonna have to pry your hand off my waist if you got any more comfortable.”

“You still might have to,” he teases, reaching around your side to squeeze at that favored spot. Your vexation breaks up as a laugh jostles out of you, and you try to move away but Eddie doesn’t let you get far, pulling you roughly against his side.

Any more of this, and you’ll have to get a tattoo of his handprint on your waist with Eddie’s spot written inside. It’ll be tasteless and suggestive, and you know Eddie will laugh for days.

“I’ve got to find something equally punishing for you now,” you say. “How do you feel about sweetpea?”

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“No? Honeyboo?”

“You know—”

“Pookie?”

“—I actually don’t care what you—”

“Oh, I know! Stud muffin.”

“Would you shut up?” Eddie squeezes you around the middle again, cutting you off with your own giggles. He doesn’t look nearly as embarrassed as you’d like, still grinning down at you like you’re a source of endless amusement. “Stud muffin actually isn’t bad, but I don’t give a shit what you call me, so long as it’s you.”

Some of your playfulness fizzles out, and he smirks at what he takes for your dissatisfaction, stopping and grasping your upper arms to look you in the eye. The metal of his rings are cool on your skin. “Got that, baby?” he asks, stretching the endearment out long and teasing.

It takes you a second to react, grateful for Eddie’s hands on your arms as you try to remember how to balance on your own. Once you do, you scoff, ripping out of his grasp and continuing ahead. “Fuck you,” you say.

Eddie all but skips to catch up to you. “Oh, you wish.”

218 notes · View notes

atlabeth · 10 months ago

Text

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

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

summary: a look into your unclaimed year.

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

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

wc: 11.4k JESUS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could have warned me,” you seethed.

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you feel?” Tate asked anxiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank the gods you’re okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You huffed. “Sounds like an interesting place.”

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

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

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

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

“You haven’t gotten a tour yet?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t know where to start.

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

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

You frowned. “Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head. “Only the infirmary.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope so,” you murmured.

“Luke, who’s the new girl?”

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

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

“Unclaimed or your sibling?” he asked.

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

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

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

He snorted. “You’re telling me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Course,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “The god?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

“You promise you’ll be safe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d the tour go?” he asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

“You’re not holding it right.”

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

“You’re still not holding it right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He winked. “Thank you.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You still hadn’t been claimed.

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

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

“How’re you doin’, Berkeley?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In training,” you said.

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

“And my—”

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

That gave you pause. “Bee?”

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

“Just explain it,” you said.

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

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

“Sure,” you said.

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

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

“It’s in my genes,” he said proudly.

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

By the end, your face hurt from smiling

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.”

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

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

“No, I don’t,” you whispered back.

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

“It’s past curfew,” you mumbled.

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

Still, you stared at him.

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

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

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

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

“So,” you repeated.

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

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

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

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

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

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

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

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

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

Your frown deepened. “That’s awful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have your dagger with you?”

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

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

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

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

“We’re sneaking out even more?”

“It’ll be fine,” Luke promised.

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

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

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your parent?” he asked. You nodded.

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

“Gee,” you said dryly, “thanks.”

Luke shrugged. “You asked.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tilted your head. “That too.”

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

“God, I hope not. Priya hates me.”

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

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

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

“I hope so.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I like it,” you said.

“The ocean?”

“Not so much.”

“And the darkness?”

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

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

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

“Why do you always do that?”

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

“Do what?”

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

“Luke—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always,” he said. “And I mean that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Luke,” you groaned, “this is awful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luke grinned. “You think I’m pretty?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luke smiled. “You know I always am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Luke,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was your fault!” he exclaimed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Serene,” you suggested.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Luke didn’t miss a beat. “Always.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look at me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh gods. You were in trouble.

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

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

“Luke,” you whispered.

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

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

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

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

But you didn’t.

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you say,” he mused.

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

“What’s got you so down?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you asked halfheartedly.

“You— you’re—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(You should be happy.)

Your new siblings.

…Your new cabin.

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

(You should be ecstatic.)

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

(Why are you not smiling?)

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

#also you may notice. that these include the flashbacks mentioned at the end of bleedin me dry. bc i enjoy hurting people #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #sadie writes

325 notes · View notes

tw1l1te · 7 months ago

Text

𝖋𝖆𝖑𝖘𝖊 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖔- 𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖗𝖊𝖊

Author's note: Sorry this one's a bit short! Finals and work are killing me :<

ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

You sigh heavily once you shut the door, the interaction leaving you more stressed out than before. You could already sense the dynamic you were going to have with them, however long they ended up staying in the village or being involved in your life.

You were beneath them.

You could sense it, the way some of them almost looked down at you, judging you by the information you gave them. But, frankly, you didn’t care. This is your era, not theirs, so you were going to fulfill whatever purpose you had your way.

You walk through the path that lead deeper into the woods, eyeing the cottage on the edge of the forest. It was already getting dark out, the sky a dark shade of periwinkle.

Walking up to the door, you knock lightly calling out to the woman inside, “Impa? You there?”

“Y/n! Come in, come in!”

You opened the door to find Impa hunched over a map in front of her small fireplace. Closing the door behind you, you walk up to her to see what exactly she was looking at.

“Heard some family has come to see you.”

“They’re not my family. I’m not even remotely related to them.”

“Your spirit says otherwise. Have you told them?”

“Yes. Well, the important parts at least.”

“Lying will just end up making things worse for you, Y/n.”

“I didn’t technically lie. They just happened to not ask certain things.”

“I see.”

You both stay quiet for a moment, basking in the embers of the small fire. Fire was a necessity in this day and age, considering how you almost never feel warm enough now, regardless of how many layers or how many fires you have. Impa stands up, setting the map down on a nearby stool.

“Care for some tea? It’s spiced, so it’ll warm you up some more.”

“Sure, I'd like that.”

She hands you a carved cup full of tea, the rivulets of steam dancing on the surface of the liquid. Blowing at the tea, you take a small sip, the warm drink soothing your throat and warming your chest.

“It’s good, Impa, thank you.”

She nods in thanks, sitting back down on her chair. Her face looks worried, though you anticipate her discussing what’s on her mind.

“Y/n there’s activity at the Northern edge of the forest. Presumably, followers of Hylia have found our encampment and want to gain access into our underground archives south of the village. I’ve already communicated with Arden and the others. It’s best you leave at dawn in order to cut them off. We can’t risk any discovery, not now.”

You stare at the tea in your hands as she tells you this, already in the process of formulating what you need to bring and what tactics you should use.

“It’s also best if you travel by foot to avoid any technology tracking or excessive noise, especially with Hylians. You and I both know they have better hearing than most.”

You know what she was hinting at with that statement: an accident that had occured during your travels a couple years ago.

She scootches up to you, hands on her knees.

“We both know we want to avoid conflict and move towards a peaceful future. We can’t do that if our entire village is massacred and stripped bare of records and families. I’m sorry I have to ask you again, you know I can’t promise it’ll end anytime soon.”

You smile sadly at her, nodding at her words.

“I know. I’ve come to terms with that for the most part. I just… hate having to get rid of her servants, knowing they can be saved from her manipulation and control.”

She nods, reaching for your hands. Despite years of training and combat, her hands felt so comforting and warm. Something you’d never expect from an old, hardened woman.

Sighing, you place the tea down, looking at Impa.

“I better go. I promised the… ancestors I’d find them a place to rest for the night. I’ll converse with the rest of the team before tomorrow to make sure we’re well prepared.”

You take a pause, walking towards the door. Looking back, you whisper,

“Thank you, Impa.”

You made a straight bee line back to the main camp, hands balled into fists to contain your nerves. You couldn’t wait, all of you needed to leave now.

Hylia’s followers were unpredictable, and you knew that if you didn’t leave soon, the camp would be dead by dawn.

You finally see the main cabin in view, panting lightly from trekking in the snow. Pushing the door open, you immediately start looking for Colin, Arden, Dusk and the others. The heroes could find their own damn house, they were more than capable of that.

Speaking of, you could feel their eyes on you, no doubt curious as to why you were in such a rush. Time and Wars were already standing up, making you curse under your breath. Finally spotting them in the far corner of the room, you walk over.

“Arden, we need to leave.”

“What? Why? Impa gave orders to leave at dawn-”

“You don’t know them like I do, Arden. They’re fucking unpredictable, their going to kill everyone here if we don’t move now.”

“Who is?” Wars asks, a few feet behind you. You jump slightly from the unexpected presence, recomposing yourself quickly.

“No one. Just nightly patrol.”

Arden gives you the look, which you just glare at him. Now was not the time to invite new recruits.

“We could use their help, Link.”

“No, we couldn’t. They’re staying here.”

Wars scoffs, settling a hand on his hip, “Says who?”

You look him dead in the eye, already tired of rambling with everyone. You throw up your arms in defeat, wanting to get this over with.

“Fine, fine. You lot can come but you follow my lead, got it? I don’t want any casualties tonight.”

He nods, satisfied with your answer. He relays it to the others, some of them looking less passionate than others, but agreed upon nonetheless.

Turning back to Arden, you mutter “Meet me at my place in half an hour, we leave in an hour. Finish up here and get whatever you need, I’ll make sure the others are equipped and ready.”

He nods, the others agreeing alongside him. The plan was set.

You start speed-walking towards the entrance, not waiting around for the men to follow you. You had shit you needed to get done.

ᨒ↟ ⋆｡°

#linked universe x reader #linked universe au #yandere linked universe #yandere linked universe x reader #linked universe #false hero au

161 notes · View notes

concentrateandpush · 29 days ago

Text

“Clothes, toiletries, shoes, make up..” Louise sighs as she runs through the packing. “How did I forget the nip pads.. I’m so sorry” she shakes her head in my direction as I lay on the queen sized bed. “Baby, it’s okay, you didn’t mean to forget them.. it happens” I smile adoringly at her little face. “I remembered my stuff, just not your pads” she huffs. “Baby” I laugh, getting up and going towards the mess over the floor “I’m okay, I can use toilet roll..” I smile and look the the mirror seeing my soaked t shirt, it’s typical my milk would come in so heavy when on a cruise, our baby moon.

“Ugh..” she shakes her head “what if I forget the babies stuff? When they’re here? Like.. I could.. I could forget the baby” she starts panicking. “Baby, we’re here, on our cruise, it’s our baby moon, let’s just enjoy ourselves yeah? We’re here, we’re safe, we’re fine” I smile reassuringly and take her to the bed.

“Let’s have a little nap before we get to the port yeah?” I smile, taking my soaking shirt off and throwing it to the floor, putting a towel down incase. “Come on” I smile as I lay on my side, cradling my 35 week round bump.

“All passengers must be off board during this port, all passengers off board including staff” airs through the cabin. But we’re gone from the world, fast asleep. It’s not until an hour later I come around, feeling a pinching in my hip “ooh” I whisper as I give my hip a little rub. “Mm, baby, you awake?” I ask, shaking Louise a little. “Lena” she whispers, turning back to me.

“How on earth have you got milk over the middle of the bed” she laughs and I look down, not knowing what she means “I didn’t?” I shake my head “I’ve just been sleeping.. I..” I stop and look down at my shorts, seeing the dampness. “Fuck” I mutter as I try to stand, but I double over with a sharper pain, moaning out through my teeth.

“Lena? What is it?” She asks rushing to my side. “It’s too early” I shake my head “it’s not time” I tear up. “You’re okay.. you’re okay, are you sure it’s time?” She asks and I nod “I can feel it” I say as I tye my hair back “pressure.. different pressure” I admit as I go back to the bed.

“Right, call the medical centre, deck 4” I demand as I try finding some clothes to throw on between laboured breaths. “There’s no answer” Lou sighs “I’ll go out and get someone” she says calmly “we’re meeting our baby” she grins as she heads out.

“You know.. your mommy’s right, we’re meeting you soon” I grin as I sit down, circling my belly with my right hand. “Ohh, you little monkey” I sigh as I feel a contraction building “mmmmm” I hum as I try getting past it, but the intensity is far worse than I expected. “Hooo hoo hooo” I moan trying to catch my breath.

Louise goes as I get through four contractions and when she gets back, she finds me on all fours, panting, sweating, trying to find some sort of pattern. “Where the fucking hell have you been?!” I mutter, furiously. “Baby, I can’t find a single human on this cruise” she says knowing it’ll panic me. But I just shake my head “I know this baby is coming out soon, you have to help me”. “I.. I don’t know how to deliver a baby” she shakes her hands a little as I start to undress, leaving my swollen labia show as I flap my legs to the sides “oh god that’s so much better” I sigh as the throbbing calms.

“I will talk you through, listen to me before the contraction goes” I start before explaining everything I know. “It’s back” I mutter, grabbing her hand and letting out noises I never knew I could make “Mah!!” I cry out as I shake my head, bucking my hips a little towards her. I reach down and take her index, placing it on my clit, knowing if there’s any relief to get it’s that.

She follows my lead and I feel her starting to circle the area, the pleasure mixed with the pressure is something I’ve never felt before. “Keep going” I whisper through tears. “Don’t stop” I demand as I feel myself getting wetter.

“I..” she starts as I see her eyes widen “you’re opening, you’re like.. stretching” she says, gazing between my legs. I take that as my cue and start to bear down, holding my breath and pressing my chin to my chest. “I..” I mutter, trying to speak as I push for the first time. “Just concentrate on pushing baby” Lou whispers and nod, holding it as long as I can before letting go and trying to catch my breath. “Hooo” I moan out, feeling exhausted already.

“Good girl..” she smiles, wiping my forehead a little with her hand. “Slowly but surely” she says softly as I feel her run her fingers around the crown that’s still not even through. “Still there?” She asks, referring to the contraction that’s definitely dying down. I shake my head and motion for a drink, feeling for a straw with my mouth as I shut my eyes.

“I didn’t know it would be this intense” I shake my head, running my hands over my bump, sad that it’s going to be empty soon. “Here it comes..” I mumble as I pull my feet up as hard as I can, bearing down with every bit of energy I have, feeling myself widen with every second “head?” I ask and she grins, peeking down at me.

“How do I-“ I mutter as I grip my thigh tightly, pulling harder as I let the other leg go, feeling the stretch intensifying as I let a strained grunt out. “Okay, easy easy..” Lou encourages me. “Next push is going to be the crown, get ready okay baby?” She says softly. At this point I’m just taking every second between pushing to breathe and shut my eyes, but I start to feel all of this pressure.

“I.. too much” I shake my head, scrambling to stand. The second I land on my feet, an explosion of water gushes out and my knees buckle. “Okay, okay, I’ve got you” she whispers as she lowers me onto my knees. “Ahhhhhh” I cry out, pushing on all fours “get out!” I sob feeling like there’s no way this baby is going to come out of me.

“Stay still” she says as she starts to try and manoeuvre, my teeth almost breaking as I bite down so hard. “Now!” She shouts as I let go and let out the biggest howl I’ve ever let out, feeling myself finally give birth. “Baby, baby, please” I pant as I reach down to the most perfect little crying girl.

“I can’t believe how strong you are” Louise smiles, wiping my face down with a spare towel. “Hi, I’m your Momma” she whispers, kissing baby’s forehead. But I just know something is happening, I know that my body is doing something. “Milkies?” I whisper as I latch baby onto my nipple. “I.. I don’t know what’s happening” I shake my head, feeling around myself to see why there’s so much pressure.

“Google placenta contractions..” I say quietly as I feel a hardness “and type in are they hard..” I say as I try to get a full feel. I see Louise’s eyes widen as she reads and I nod “I fucking said it was twins! Didn’t I? Did I not?” I laugh a little and hand over baby “I can do this, just be with her, love her” I say as I get up onto the bed, Lou sitting next to me with our new addition.

“Okay.. baby number two.. you need to help Mommy now..” I whisper to myself “please don’t be as chaotic as your sister” I laugh. Louise is just besotted and I watch her for a moment until I feel the cramping. “No panicking Lena..” I whisper as I widen my legs a little, still comfortable on the bed and under the duvet.

“Nnggh” I cry a soft little moan as I push, gently but firmly. “Hhnngg” I moan again, feeling over my bump to try and gauge where I’m at. “Hoo hoo hoo” I try and shake my head “doesn’t work” I groan as I try to rub my clit a little. “Yess..” I whisper as I feel movement, pushing through my gritted teeth.

“Hi..” I whisper as I catch a feeling of the head “gotcha” I smile, turning to Lou for approval. “I’m in awe of you, both of you” she smiles, tears running down her cheeks. “Hurting” I mutter as I try to lean more to one side “they’re bigger..” I say softly as I look to Lou. “Oh.. oh here comes” I whisper as I start to push, gripping onto Lou’s jeans “gaaah!” I squeal.

I see Lou’s eyes change as I start panting and barely making a sound, she puts baby next to me and moves the blanket off me, to have full view of the head coming out of me. “You’ve got this, you can do it” she coaches me as I pant, pushing small pushes to help baby down. “More” she guides as I pull a leg back gently “haahhhh!” I scream as I feel the head pop out.

“You’re amazing” she smiles “just the shoulders now Mamma, I love you so much” she smiles with encouragement. “I love you too, always” I smile, taking her hand as I bear down one last time, seeing her catch the baby. “Woah, he’s a chunk” she grins. “He?!” I smile, reaching my arms out to take him.

“One girl, one boy.. he’s outnumbered already” she laughs. “I’m so proud of you, my beautiful wife” she whispers, kissing my head.

#childbirth #giving birth #birth #maiesiophilia #pregnancy #birtherotica #birthfetish #birth kink

72 notes · View notes

thatsatricky1 · 1 month ago

Text

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 | 𝐳.𝐜𝐥

“Chenle your end is near.” Y/n gritted out through clenched teeth furiously scrubbing her hands in the bathroom sink.

“My stylist specifically bought non staining body paint Y/n.” Chenle’s voice came muffled through the closed bathroom door, no doubt with his face squished against the door as if it would help.

“Yeah? Did she happen to also test it out beforehand?” Her question was met with silence.

Chenle had rushed his makeup artist to find the paint since the party had been only a week away back then. They had in fact not tested it beforehand and if he recalled it right it was the same brand they’d used on Renjun, Jisung, Jeno and himself which had not come off well.

“We could try using nail polish remover?” Chenle suggested through the door.

“You do realise that amount of nail polish remover would make us high off the fumes right?” Y/n retorted all the while Chenle heard the sink still on full blast.

“Alright you got me there, open up, two pairs of hands are better than one.” Chenle offered. At the moment he wasn’t feeling too good about this outcome but he knew they’d both laugh about it later.

Chenle half expected her to just dish out another anger induced insult but Y/n was unlocking and swinging the door open seconds later, hands clearly still stained blue with light blue drops of water dripping down.

“Oh shit.” He winced out now realising why she’d be so mad.

“Not helping.”

After a whole fifteen minutes Chenle had managed to remove a bit of the staining on her hands with the effort of a lot of lavender scented soap. Chenle moving to slather more soap on his hands moving toward her face.

”Uh no.” Y/n cut off his actions, shoving his hands away.

“So you want to be like violet from Willy Wonka that bad?” Chenle asked out unhelpfully.

“No I’m just gonna shower instead, it’ll be easier to do it all in one.”

“Why didn’t you think of that to begin with?” His next question was met with a blank look.

“Why didn’t you get me proper non-stainable body paint to begin with?” Y/n shot back before getting up from where they’d been leaning over the bathroom sink. The white porcelain now splodged in blue.

“You’re gonna have to let that go.” He groaned out.

“Oh I will, but only when the blue fades.” Her words only caused his eyes to squeeze shut since it had taken a good couple of days for them to get the blue of their skin after the whole Smurf fiasco years ago.

“I think I might actually break something soon.” Y/n sighed out trying not to freak out when the zip on her dress wouldn’t go down, not sure if it was just the frustration or a bit of the alcohol they’d consumed during the party.

“As funny as it would be seeing a blue stained you smashing shit I’d prefer it not being my stuff.” Chenle answered back, moving closer.

“Help?” Chenle asked out without context knowing she knew what he meant.

Chenle only moved to grab the zip after seeing her nod from behind. It was already a bit open but had caught against fabric so he had to pry the material out from under the zip first beforehand.

“This is not what I expected to be doing after the annual Halloween party.” Y/n grumbled out as Chenle unzipped the back of her dress.

“What, you mean you don’t enjoy being a Smurf 2.0 while fighting with your dress around 11pm at night on the 31st of October with a guy dressed in an oversized suit?” Chenle practically snorted out.

“Next time I want to dress up as an introvert, and take my role seriously by staying at home and being a no show.” Y/n replied done with the day not caring Chenle was in the room as she slipped the dress off.

“You did your whole body!?” Chenle exclaimed, noticing the blue everywhere.

“Wow Lele, I was expecting a different kind of comment coming from you seeing me in my underwear but yeah, your stylist helped me paint myself so there’s that.”

“Well I’m not complaining about the view but that’s gonna take you at least two hours in the shower.”

“Not my water bill.” Y/n shrugged, moving over to the shower.

Chenle knew this could screw up everything, but then again she’d literally undressed in front of him. If not he could pass it off as a joke.

“Remember how I said two sets of hands are better than one?” Chenle suggested, following towards the shower.

“Your game is weak, but grab a loofa or something.” Y/n agreed amused.

“Should I grab the blue one?”

The only response he got was a bar of soap flung at him.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @rotinyzen @wonyoungmywife @snflwrhaerecs4u @thegreenlynx @serinebsblog @delululi @molensworld @morkiee @marvelahsobx @kaciebello @kgneptun @bluedbliss @haechansbbg @officiallyjaehyuns @bunnychui @audreybub

(This Taglist is used for all my nct context so if you’d like to be tagged in my nct content please comment or write to me to be added)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Tbh honest talking from experience blue body paint is hella hard to get off when it’s not a good brand, but PINK is so much worse 😭 I spent days looking like I was recovering from a nasty sunburn.

𝐁𝐨𝐨 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐰:

Tap

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

Tap

66 notes · View notes

stylesparker · 2 years ago

Text

take my hand and I’ll take yours too

PAIRING: Steve Harrington x Bestfriend!Reader

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

WARNINGS: fem!reader, friends to lovers, so much mutual pining, more angst than fluff, MAJOR hurt/comfort, graphic character death—through nightmares (no one actually dies)

His breathing is so quiet it makes you think he’s not even breathing at all. The only tell that he’s still here is the slow rise and fall of his chest—something you only noticed once you tried to find it.

Despite being in the safety of Steve’s bed—and him by your side—your fear still keeps you up in the middle of the night. Every time you toss and turn, you’re afraid it’ll wake him up, but you think he’s definitely out like a rock. It would probably take an explosion to wake him up right now.

The two of you had a long day. So did the kids, but being the designated babysitters, you were the ones who had the right to collapse as soon as you got in the house.

After… everything, it’s been a silent agreement between you and Steve that you’d stay with him at his house for the time being. The bed sharing had not been planned, but Steve had insisted. He claimed having someone near helped him sleep better, but you knew he was doing it for you.

He’s not the one with the nightmares.

But tonight it seems, he is.

You didn’t catch it at first; you had rolled away with your back facing him, so the mumbling fell on deaf ears. It was only a matter of seconds later when you heard him sit up out of bed with a fearful gasp and sobs racking his chest. You had turned over in a heartbeat, making eye contact with Steve, and your heart immediately shattering to pieces.

You never want to see that heartbroken look on his face ever again.

“Steve..?” You ask gently. His tears haven’t stopped, the hand that’s gripping your thigh grips tighter, almost like he’s making sure you’re real.

You’re alive.

His movement is slow, but you get the hint pretty quickly. You wrap your arms around him and pull him into your chest, holding him tight against you like you’ll never let go. His own arms had wrapped around your middle, squeezing every couple of seconds. He breathes quick, his chest pounding rapidly against yours, almost making you afraid he’s gonna give himself a heart attack.

“Babe, you’re alright, it’s alright..” you whisper quietly, so not to disturb him. His tears have already stopped, but you can tell he’s still afraid. His eyes close at the feeling of your hand scratching his head.

“You’re okay,” he mumbles softly, digging his head further into your neck. It makes you want to cry.

He doesn’t deserve this.

You give him a couple of extra moments until his breathing has slowed down and he’s not in quite such a panic anymore.

“You wanna talk?” Your voice is soft, making his insides melt at the sound of it. You don’t realize how much you’ve already helped him, you just try to copy what he does for you.

He shakes his head, “I’m okay, really.”

You don’t believe him, but you don’t question him further. You just hold each other in the dark.

The room is silent until he whispers, “You weren’t sleeping were you.”

Your silence is his answer.

…

The kids thinks there’s something wrong with Steve.

Robin knows there’s something wrong with you.

Since they know Robin probably spends the most time with the two of you, they go to her. They aren’t expecting the answer Robin gives them.

“I think..” she groans, “god, I feel so bad for telling you guys this—I think Y/N is having nightmares.”

They’re faces drop open, they’re hearts shattering just a little bit.

“Wait, what?” Dustin asks sadly. He exchanges a glance with Max and Lucas.

“Shit,” Lucas says, “We thought-”

Max shoves him in the shoulder.

Dustin squints at the two of them, obviously knowing what he was going to say, but not wanting to bring it up right now. He looks back to a guilty Robin.

“Steve, too?”

She shrugs, “I’m not sure, Y/N hasn’t said anything about him, but he said hers have been pretty bad. They’ve been staying at his house for the past couple weeks.”

“It’s probably like us,” Max says, “don’t want to sleep alone anymore…”

The other two nod their heads in agreement.

“Look, when Y/N comes in for her shift I’ll ask her how they’ve been doing. I don’t think I’ll get an answer, but I’ll try. ‘Kay?”

They trudge out the door, and Robin sighs. She hopes they don’t tell you she told them.

It’s about a half hour later she hears the chime of the bell indicating a customer. When she looks, it’s you, as expected.

With a lack of better terms, you look horrible.

Your hair looks nice, as always, but you look the most sleep deprived then you ever have. She can see the dark circles under your eyes from a mile away. You give her a tight lipped smile and head to the back to drop your bag off. Robin tenses in preparation.

“Hey, cupcake, how’ve you been?”

She hasn’t seen you in almost two days. Maybe she should’ve tried calling an extra couple of times.

You slide your hands across the front of your shirt and wave, coming up next to her at the desk.

You nod unconvincingly, “Good. You?”

“Good!” She nods with a smile. It’s comforting. But you’re not stupid.

Your fake smile slips from your face and the sadness appears quickly in your eyes.

“You can ask.”

Robin’s facade also slips, and she steps closer to you, dropping a hand on one shoulder.

“I won’t,” she shakes her head, “but you need to talk to me.” You gulp. “You look like shit.”

You laugh, which brings a smile to her face. But the split second of happiness is quickly gone when you remember you have to tell her.

“It’s Steve.”

Robin thinks she already knows.

“Shit,” she huffs, “so now you’re both losing sleep.”

“I don’t know how to help him,” your eyes well with tears, and Robin holds you closer, “he’s so much better a-at helping me when I have them, I-I don’t know how I’m gonna get him through this-”

Robin turns more stern than you’ve ever seen her, “Y/N, this isn’t all on you. I love you guys, but you shitheads are stubborn as hell. You guys need to accept more help. I’ve been at Nancy’s this past week, even Eddie has stopped by and seen the kids. Those kiddos would love to have you guys around again, they’re missing you.”

You wipe your tears, and nod your head in understanding.

“I know..” you mumble. “We just don’t want to scare them.”

“I thinks it’s scaring them even more now that you’re not around.”

You sigh, taking a deep breath.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“We’ll come by tonight,” you nod, “have all the kids been there?”

“All of ‘em. Jane has been prone to eating more eggos than ever.”

You chuckle at the thought of her.

Robin wants to ask if there’s a reason the two of you have holed up together apart from everyone else, but she thinks better of it. She probably knows why better than you do.

You hope maybe sleeping in the same house as everyone will help you guys a bit, ease your nerves.

“I’ll tell Steve when I get home.”

Robin catches it before you do.

Home.

…

The gravel crunches loudly under the tires of Steve’s car. You get bumped a little bit as he pulls into the Wheeler’s driveway, but it goes unnoticed, you’re a little out of it.

Steve’s been able to tell the whole ride there. His gaze had been glancing between you and the road the whole time.

“You ready?” He grabs your hand, rubbing it softly.

“Yeah,” you reassure, “just… nervous.”

He tilts his head, waiting for you to continue.

“What if-” you look to him anxiously.

“We just won’t sleep in the same room as them so one of us doesn’t wake them up. Nancy will understand,” he assures you, “don’t worry.”

You try not to think about it as you pull your hand out of his and swing open the door. As you walk up the pavement, you wonder if the butterflies in your stomach are from nervousness or just him.

The kids are so happy to see you, maybe more so Steve, but you can’t seem to care. Dustin practically knocks him down when he gets two feet inside the door, and Jane is quick to run over and give you a tight hug. Max follows soon after, putting her arms around the both of you in a sweet manner.

“What, have you gone soft on me, Madmax?”

You hear a quiet mumble of never, which makes you giggle and hug the two of them tighter. When they let go, Steve is huffing and puffing to shove the little twerp off of him, and Lucas is pulling at his arm to give him a turn. The other two boys are waiting to greet you patiently.

“Hey, y/n/n,” Mike says softly. Will rushes forward to give you a hug before he pulls away again, but you’re glad you got anything at all.

“Hey Mikey,” you tease, ruffling his hair much to his disappointment while you lean down and give Will a swift kiss on the forehead. “Where’s your sister?”

“In the kitchen with Jonathan. Robin and Eddie aren’t here yet.”

Dustin takes you by surprise when he collides with your backside and squeezes the shit out of you.

“Never leave us again,” he mutters. You twist around and pat him on the head like a puppy.

“We’ve never left you, kiddo,” you tell him softly. You catch Steve’s eye and he’s watching you guys with fondness. Your guys attention gets pulled when you hear loud laughter from the kitchen. Steve walks by your side as you enter the room, catching Nancy in an embrace with her boyfriend.

“Hey lovebirds,” you call. Their heads turn and they give each other a suspicious side eye.

“Hey yourselves,” Nancy says. She giggles and rushes to you. “It’s nice to see you.”

“You too, Nance,” Steve says back.

Before you get a chance to talk to Jonathan, Nancy pulls you into her living room around the corner where you’re out of sight from the others.

“I figured you guys didn’t want to stay in the basement so I got a room ready for you if you want to put your stuff in there.”

“Oh, cool, yeah, that’s fine,” you reply. “I was gonna ask you anyway, I don’t want to bother the kids while they’re sleeping.”

She arches an eyebrow.

“Oh, god- Nance!” You act like your gagging, “seriously?”

“What? You implied it.”

“I did not!”

“Okay, so then what did you mean,” she crosses her arms with a smirk on her face.

You huff, peeking around the corner to make sure no one was listening. “We’ve been… having nightmares lately.”

Her arms drop and she looks at you comfortingly.

“Babe, we have too.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, we all have. It hasn’t been easy. If you guys need anything just let me know, I know how bad they can get. Max had a pretty bad one last night.”

You sigh, “Yeah, so did Steve.”

She lets you go with a soft smile, just in time when Steve rounds the corner.

“Hey, they’re going downstairs if you wanna go,” he says it with a smile.

“Yeah! I’m right behind you.”

During the rest of the evening, you have multiple moments when you realize you haven’t laughed or had this much fun in a long while. The fun had really started when the last two remaining friends of the party had shown up, and finally everyone was in one room again, together. It took you too long to realize how fast these people had become a family to you, and maybe things would have gotten better sooner if you hadn’t pulled away. Everything just feels better, lighter, like you don’t have the weight of the world on your shoulders and aren’t watching every step you take.

It’s easy to let go when Steve has an arm around your shoulder and Robin sits back in between your legs; when Dustin is trying to shove a warm muffin down Eddie’s throat and Jane has her head laying gently in Will’s lap; when Nancy is tugging back the skirt Mike tried to steal and Lucas is making heart eyes at Max. Even when life feels so hard, it also feels like it’s the easiest thing to get through when you have so many things that can bring joy.

You could tell around 10 o’clock Jane, Will, and Robin were getting pretty tired. The others weren’t, but they knew it was probably best if everyone went down together. Eddie was already zonked out on the couch so Nancy threw a fluffy green blanket over him to keep him comfortable. Jonathan was already leading Jane and Will upstairs to get their pillows when Mike had taken notice and followed quickly behind. Everyone else either had a room upstairs or their sleeping arrangements already made on the floor.

Lucas had sadly, but also willingly, given up his chair bed for Max, which she had thanked him with a kiss on the cheek. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the kid so flustered.

“Night guys,” Dustin loudly whispers as Nancy shut the lights off.

“Night, Dustin,” you whisper back, much more quietly than he did, but you get a nice toothy grin in return. Steve ruffles his hair before he leads you to the stairs, which gets him a loud complaint and a smack on his calf. Robin squeezes your hand before going off in her own direction, and the boy attached to your side leads you to the room made for the both of you.

It wasn’t exactly a disappointment to find only one bed. For either of you.

“You can use the bathroom first,” he offers, standing with his hands in his pockets at the end of the bed.

“Thanks,” you reply softly, taking your clothes to change into in the bathroom. You try to clean up quickly, but it’s about a half hour later that you emerge and you find Steve, cleaned up, and snuggled in on the right side of the bed.

When he looks at you, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. But his hair looks freshly cleaned and it doesn’t look like he has a shirt on, so you don’t dwell on it for too long. With the darkness flooded in the room, and the only source of light coming from the bathroom and the moon, you hope he can’t tell how anxious you look.

He can, but he doesn’t mention it. He didn’t want to ruin the comfortable silence that fell upon the two of you. When you came out of the bathroom looking fresh with happiness and a towel on your head, he thought he couldn’t be looking at anything cuter. He just guilty wished the big t-shirt that adorned your torso would just ride up your thighs an inch more so he could see the softness of them.

He tears his eyes away just as you tell him, “I’m glad I don’t have to shove you off my side of the bed tonight.” You flop on your stomach somehow gently onto the bed next to him, scooting yourself up just so your head ghosts over the skin of his thighs underneath the blankets. He wishes he hadn’t gotten under the covers.

You have a shy grin adorning your features when you add, “Sorry I took so long.”

Steve waves it off, “No big deal, I got to steal Robin’s shower. She wasn’t too happy with me, though.” He feels accomplished when it makes you laugh. Your head drops onto his thighs for a moment, and he curses when you lift it far too soon.

It’s quiet again until you lift yourself off the bed to take your towel off. He takes this moment to watch you until you shut the light off and walk back over. You face him when you get under the covers, and he shifts himself so his arm is under his head and he can actually face you too.

He beams when your foot ghosts near his. He boldly reaches out to tuck your hair behind your ear, which earns him a slight blush.

“Sleep,” he murmurs.

You shake your head softly, “Not yet.”

Now that his hair looks more dry it flops when he shifts again, and gives you questioning glance. You hate that he looks so pretty.

“What do ya’ wanna talk about then?” He asks.

You shrug. You hope you don’t upset him with what you’re going to ask next.

“What was your nightmare about, Steve?”

He could tell it took you a minute to ask that question. He knows he shouldn’t lie, so he takes a deep breath.

“Us.”

“Us?”

“You.”

Your lips pout, and they look so soft, all he wants to do is rub his thumb over them.

“I scared you?”

“No, honey,” he sighs, “I was scared for you.”

Your mouth makes an ‘o’ shape and you don’t say anything else. You look like you feel bad and he wishes you didn’t.

He continues, “Do you remember.. when we were in that stolen van, and I was telling you about that dream I had?”

You nod. “The six little nuggets.”

He laughs, “Yeah.. that.”

“Do you still wish for that?”

He shrugs, “I think so. Maybe not six, but I think I want a big family.” He takes a moment to add, “I think it’s because I didn’t really have one growing up.”

Your eyes soften incredibly more than they already are and your hand rests on top of his, “I get that.”

He debates telling you the real reason he brought this up, but decides against it. It would be too much.

You can see the conflict in his eyes, and take it for what you think it is.

“You don’t have to tell me about the dream, Stevie.”

His eyes find yours again and he has to fight not to kiss you on the spot. Your voice makes his heart beat so fast he feels it might fly out of his chest into your open hands.

“We didn’t make it out,” he starts. He grabs hold of your hand for comfort. You run your hand over his to keep him going. “I don’t know... if I did, but you didn’t.”

He notices you holding your breath.

“We had just got Eddie, and we were all running, and we were all screaming at each other to keep going, we were almost there. But... I felt your hand slip out of mine and suddenly you were gone,” he clears his throat, “I could see you getting higher in the sky, like three bats had gotten you, and you were screaming my name over and over, and I couldn’t get to you. One minute I was chasing after you and the next...” he blows air out of his mouth, “You were on the ground bleeding. I had you in my arms and you weren’t moving, it didn’t even look like you were breathing. When you woke, you just stared at me, you held my hand, and you comforted me.”

You made sure the small tear that fell out of your eye was quickly wiped away before he could notice it.

“No matter how much I screamed, no matter how many times I told you not to close your eyes, your breathing stopped and your eyes went blank. You were cold in my arms, and suddenly nothing else mattered. I couldn’t move.”

Steve doesn’t realize you’re moving until your head is an inch away from his, and your warm hand was placed on his cheek.

“I’m here,” you say softly. He closes his eyes and tries to push away the memory of the dream, leaning forward that extra inch to touch his forehead against yours. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, just... stay with me.”

“Okay.”

...

“Steve? Steve!” Your breathing is harsh, you can’t see, and none of the others are around. The others had separated from the two of you; gone on their bikes and rode away to find the gate. It didn’t matter this felt unfamiliar, this was real, it had to be.

Each step you took made a creak on the stairs, causing you to cringe and stop every time, afraid something would dart out of the shadows and take you away before you could locate Steve. You called his name one more time, but again, there was no answer.

Sweat beaded against your brow, and you held your knife closer to your chest. You didn’t risk taking your jacket off to try and lead off some heat, you knew your eyes had to stay sharp. The walls were still covered in the vines you remembered, or whatever they were. They moved and made weird noises that had you catching your breath and looking into the other room.

The floorboards beneath your feet creaked again, but this time, you heard a scream. A loud, painful scream that vibrated through your body, from your head to your toes, and had you perking up, on edge.

That was Steve.

You were running up the rest of the stairs in an instant, almost tripping over your own feet to get to him.

“STEVE! STEVE! I’m here! I’M HERE!” You almost wish you hadn’t turned the corner at the top of the steps.

There, hanging in mid air, was Steve. You didn’t know where Vecna was, but there you could see your boy with his head upturned toward the ceiling, no movements being made.

“Shit, shit, shit, oh my god-” you fumbled around with your jacket to find the tape for him, but it wasn’t in the pocket you left it in. What were you gonna do if you didn’t have his music?

“Steve, baby, hear me. Listen to my voice. Steve!” You couldn’t even reach his feet, he was just too high for you to grab a foot to try and pull him down. When you thought, maybe, just maybe something was working, your greatest horror played out in front of you.

You could barely look as his bones started cracking, the sound filling your ears and making you remember what it felt like to lose the man you loved. He fell to the ground in an instant, making no signs of life.

You dropped to your knees in next to him, not having the ability to stop the uncontrollable sobs that leave your chest in the moments after.

You can see him, there, in the corner of your vision, lingering, waiting.

For you.

“GO! Leave!” You scream at the top your lungs, falling on top of Steve’s body.

“Y/N.” He says. You can’t hear him, you won’t.

“Y/N!” This can’t be it.

“Y/N!” You’re gasping and clawing at anything around you, your tears clouding anything you might be able to see.

“Steve! STEVE!”

You feel arms holding you so tight around your middle, trying to wrangle your arms in the process.

You can’t really tell what you’re doing, you just feel wet tears streaming down your face and a huge pressure on your chest.

“Baby, breath. You need to breath. C’mon.”

That’s... Steve?

Your hands go to your head, trying to cover your ears, but whoever has you won’t have it. You’re trying to get out of their hold, but you don’t really know why. It’s so hard to grasp at anything.

“Y/N, listen to me. It’s me, baby, it’s Steve.”

You take a shuttering breath, and suddenly, you’re no longer in the attic of that house. You’re in a bed, and there’s legs in front of you that aren’t yours. You lean your head back and it hits a chest, you don’t really feel yourself moving anymore.

“That’s it, c’mon, come back to me. You’re okay.”

The voice is so soothing. It’s gentle, it’s comforting, and it’s definitely Steve.

“Steve?” Your voice sounds so broken, so tired, it makes his tears fall faster. The sound of your screaming had woken him up, his fight or flight immediately sending him into over drive. The fear that had flooded through him when he thought something was happening to you, he didn’t know what to think when all of a sudden you started hitting him.

You weren’t awake yet.

You scratched, and you hit, and you clawed at his arms, but he was stronger than you and was able to pin them to your sides. He was able to get you into his lap and hold you tight against his chest, hoping the feeling of his skin and the pressure he was putting on your chest would calm you down. It took a minute but he realized you were finally starting to get a grip when your hands had landed softly on his thighs. The Steve that had left your lips made him hug you tighter. He didn’t dare let go until he knew you weren’t gonna hurt yourself anymore.

The rocking helped, you sort of felt like a baby, but god did it help. You could open your eyes and see your surroundings. Your breathing had finally slowed, and most of the panic was gone.

“Shhh, you’re okay, you’re okay, just breathe.”

You held his hands, holding onto them like they were a lifeline. You whimpered when he let go to wipe your tears, and you quickly turned in his hold to look at his face.

Steve knew it was bad but your eyes, they were so red, you looked so wrecked, he knew this one had to have been the worst one you’ve ever had. When you took notice of the marks on his arms, you started crying again.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-”

“It’s alright, it’s alright, you didn’t hurt me, I’m okay.” He grabbed your face and started kissing it all over, blocking you from seeing what you had done and hopefully distracting you in the process. When you tried to pull away he didn’t let you, only tugged on you until you fell into him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. One hand cradled the back of your head while the other rubbed up and down soothingly on your back; your whimpers had died down to only a few.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” you repeated it so many times he didn’t know if it would stop.

“Shhh, it’s okay. Just listen to my voice, baby.”

You slowly started to feel better; you didn’t know how long it had been, but it had to have been awhile before you lifted your head to look at the boy in front of you. You hated how worried he looked.

He must know. He had to.

You told him anyway.

“You died.” He nodded his head and wiped your tears.

“I’m fine.”

“You can’t die, Steve,” You begged firmly. “I wouldn’t survive.”

Maybe it was you, maybe it was him, but both of you knew you needed it and neither one of you was gonna stop it.

The kiss was brutal, all teeth and desperation. There was a fire burning in your chest and now Steve was burning with you. You clung to each other as if some magnetic force was going to try and pull you away from each other. You knew nothing would separate you from him right now, not this instant. He pulled away first, and calmed you down when you tried to chase the trace of his lips.

“Nothing could ever take me away from you, my love,” he whispers.

“Then kiss me like we’re never going to be apart again,” your whisper back is desperate, and he knows it.

You don’t have to tell him again.

#ooH BOY #I’m coming back to this when I need hurt/comfort #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve stranger things #steve harrington angst #stranger things fanfiction

2K notes · View notes