#i had one of these as a kid The water evaporated

[supercutszns]

twin beads | luke castellan

wc + pairing: 6.7k, luke x daughter of poseidon! reader

synopsis: you’ve been unclaimed for five years. you’ve loved your best friend even longer. the sea used to be your greatest solace, but after percy jackson comes to camp, it’s your cruelest reminder. (based on this ask!)

warnings: best friends to lovers <3, percy/reader sibling dynamic, fluff and angst then fluff again, hurt/comfort, shameless making out. sorry this one is so long but besties to lovers is my lifeblood!!! i get so attached!! designated song is true blue by boygenius:)

i. you said you wanted to feel alive, so we went to the beach

“Ahoy, sailor!”

The familiar voice ricochets across the lake. You turn, leaving glimmers of sun behind you as you stare back at the docks of Camp Half-Blood. An orange blob with a curly mop of hair is beckoning you. You laugh, wave back at him, and plunge into the water. It cools your face after staying above the surface for so long—you just love watching the light reflected off the waves. But the second you’re under the water, the soreness in your muscles, the heat on your face, the exhaustion from treading for so long, are washed away from you. You swim with precision and vigor, relishing the feel of the river cupping your limbs to spur you forward. Not to sound lame, but you fucking love swimming. 

But maybe not as much as you love your best friend. 

He laughs when your head pops out of the water at the edge of the dock. “Wow, that took you longer than usual,” he teases, brown eyes glinting in the dawn. “You getting sloppy?”

You huff, splashing some water up at him but it barely touches him. “I’m tired, you moron. I’ve been out there for an hour.”

Luke leans down at the edge of the dock, offering you a hand. His face is bemused when you latch onto him, and with a good flex of his bicep he pulls you up. “All right, c’mon,” he grunts.

All your energy evaporates the second your body’s out of the water. You’re far too lazy to be graceful, so you sprawl out onto the dock like a dying fish, letting the sun kiss every inch of you. “Eww,” Luke giggles overtop you, prodding your side with the tip of his shoe. “Get up, you mermaid.” 

“Make me, you mailman.”

Your arm drapes over your eyes, and you sigh. There really is nothing better than these moments; droplets of water soaking into your skin after an early morning swim, your best friend right beside you. 

He keeps nudging you with your shoe, over and over until your ribs start to hurt. You groan, swatting him away and stretching out your limbs with a groan, letting them pop and relax, until you blearily make your way to your feet. 

“You forgot your towel again,” Luke condones, but like always, he’s brought one for you. 

He goes through a practiced routine of drying you off, wrapping the towel around your shoulders and down your arms, across your back, scrunching the water out of your hair. It doesn’t matter how cold the water gets—this part always makes you warm. 

“Thanks,” you smile as he hands the towel off to you. “Anything interesting happen this morning, O Captain, my captain?”

“Not yet, sailor, sir,” he replies in a stuffy, gruff voice the two of you have joked around with since you were kids. “Just grabbing you for breakfast.”

You giggle, following him past the docks and to the shore. Once you’ve grabbed all your stuff, you both fall in stride and head towards your cabin, your twin five-beaded necklaces hanging over your shirts. 

Five years ago, when you got to Camp for the first time, you were as big a loser as any. You were bad at everything—everything—and had no real friends until you accidentally whacked some other friendless loser in the head with an oar when you were about to go canoeing. Luke got mad at you, but his little sister Annabeth was even more furious. He offered to be your partner for the day anyway. You’ve been partners ever since. 

Over the years the two of you have grown in status at the camp, more so Luke than you. He’s an excellent cabin leader and by far the greatest swordsman in camp. You, still unclaimed, have found solace in giving younger campers swimming lessons and wading out there on your own till you get sunstroke. (It’s happened a few times. Luke is never pleased, but also refuses to let the Apollo campers take care of you. He nurses you back to health with ice cream and horrible gossip.)

But every night you return to the Hermes cabin with a hollowness in your chest. One bunk emptied, then immediately filled. You’ve had the same one for five years, and the only condolence is that it’s right next to Luke’s, and sometimes you spend hours at night making faces at each other till your laughter endangers other people’s sleep. 

Yes, you love the water at Camp Half-Blood, but you love Luke most. 

Rumours of a new kid are rustling at camp. You haven’t seen him, but you’re just dying to get in on the gossip. Apparently he slayed a minotaur. Apparently Annabeth has seen him. And apparently he’s unclaimed. You hate to admit it, but this is the most exciting news you’ve heard in weeks!

Your afternoon is spent giving some swimming lessons and taking some Demeter campers canoeing. (Some of them freak out on the water. so it’s a nice challenge to untangle the sea plants they get hooked around their boat.) It feels like you’ve been here forever. A break is in desperate demand right now. 

You have no idea what kind of God heard your prayers, but your fellow counsellor has an unimpressed look on her face when she taps you on the shoulder and goes, “Your friend’s calling you.” 

The way she says it is almost degrading. You turn to look back at the shore to see the dark curly hair you’d spot a mile away. Next to him is a much shorter orange blob, shuffling awkwardly as Luke attempts to flag you down. Score!

You shoot an apologetic look at her. “Uh … I’ll be right back.” You wince, already disposing of your baggy orange shirt (it’s Luke’s) with your bathing suit underneath. 

“No you won’t,” she says dryly. “Just go.”

You flash a smile you hope is loaded with charm, and you’re off into water. As you swim, the only thing on your mind is I really really hope that’s the new kid, and I wonder what Luke’s face looks like right now. (He’s probably grinning, eyes crinkled at the sides as he tries to follow your figure beneath the waves. Maybe he’s doing that cute thing where his head tilts to the side as he watches.) 

When you’re close enough to the shore, you come out of the water, wringing your hair. “Hey, guys!” It’s Luke, Chris, and some blonde kid you’re sure is the new one. “What’s up?”

Luke is about to say something, then he frowns. “Where’s my shirt?”

“Left it in the canoe, I’ll go back for it later,” you reply, limply gesturing behind you. 

“And where’s your towel?”  

“Okay, I did bring one this time!” You counter. “I just gave it to a little Ares kid ‘cause she forgot hers.” 

Luke clicks his tongue, shakes his head at you, but of course he’s got one in his hands so what’s the worry? He’s endearingly amused when you take the cloth and dry yourself off, and the new boy, having watched this all raptly, widens his eyes and drawls, “Ohhhh, so you’re his gi—”

“This is Camp’s resident mermaid, Percy.” Chris butts in, adding your name almost as an afterthought. 

After you fasten your towel around you, you’re put off by Percy’s scrutinizing stare. “Look, it’s been a pretty weird day so I cannot tell if you’re joking or not.” 

“I’m not a mermaid,” you snipe, throwing Chris a dirty look. “People just call me that because I give swimming lessons here.” You stick your hand out to the blonde boy. “Nice to meet you, Percy.” 

He gives a polite nod, a little awkward. “Right back at ya.” The two of you study each other as you shake. He’s young, probably about twelve, a smatter of freckles across his face. His eyes look like the lake. Something itches in the back of your brain. There’s a moment where the shake is suspended, neither of you have let go but are no longer actively holding on, and you see it in his face that he’s studying you, too. Huh.

The conversation continues as normal, but you almost start to feel queasy for a second. “We’re trying to find something Percy’s good at,” Luke says with a pat on Percy’s shoulder. “You got any ideas?”

“Yes, please, because I really would like to have a word with my father,” Percy clips. “Is Glory, like, purely a skill thing or can I get some if I tie someone else’s shoes or something?” 

“I don’t have shoes,” you add unhelpfully. 

“It’s okay, dude,” Luke squeezes Percy’s shoulder. “Camp is great, no matter where you end up.”

Even if you’re like her, he means without saying. Even if you don’t end up anywhere. 

You meet Luke’s eyes. This is a kid that wants so badly to meet his father, to ease the ache inside him. You are the absolute worst person for this. One of the longest current unclaimed streaks and your ache remains. To Percy, you’re the biggest example of a failure there is, and Luke is only just now realizing it. 

“Maybe try the infirmary?” You pipe, shuffling back and forth on the sand. “You might have a knack for medicine.”

“Doubt it,” Percy swallows. “But yeah, okay. Who’s your parent, again?”

Percy can’t see it, but Luke and Chris send you a shifty look and all you can do is widen your eyes to be like, Help! Don’t make me crush his dreams! I don’t want another kid to hate me! 

You swallow. No matter how fast you think, you cannot come to a logical sentence. “I, uh—”

Just then, in another stroke of luck (wow, that’s two more than usual) an Athena counsellor that looks insanely disgruntled is running towards you. “Stolls put spiders in our cabin again,” he heaves once at a stop. “Please get rid of them.”

“Can’t you just squash ‘em?” Percy asks. 

“Not the spiders, the twins.” 

Chris is already nodding, but Luke looks to you first. He’s anxious, disappointed. You wish you could smooth out the creases in his brow with your thumb. “Don’t worry,” you stretch out a smile. “I’ll chill with Percy. It won’t take you guys too long.”

He’s still hesitant. You’re not sure this is a good call either. But he reaches out, quickly squeezes your shoulder and mutters, “Thank you.” Your skin feels gooey when he touches it. 

His signature roguish smile returns as he looks back to Percy. The side of his face is shadowed by the sun so well it makes you jealous. “Don’t give her a hard time, eh?” He reprimands playfully. 

Percy smiles a little. “I’ll try not to.”

You are once again reminded just how easy it is to love Luke. How effortlessly he moves into your heart. It happened to you after you slapped him with an oar. It’s already happening to Percy.

You’re sure he won’t like you nearly half as much. 

After Luke and Chris leave, Percy resigns to staring out at the campers canoeing on the lake. Maybe now is a good time to admit you’re not good with kids. Luke has tried many times to make you his welcome partner, but you can’t take to the role nearly as well. You’re perpetually antsy. And sweaty. 

“So, what cabin are you a part of that lets you do this all day?” Percy asks, squinting against the sun. 

Your heart gets heavy. With a sigh, you sit yourself down, and Percy soon follows. “Hermes, actually,” you say as casually as you can. 

Percy goes pale as a sheet. “Uh, what?”

“I’m unclaimed,” you clarify. “I don’t … I don’t have a parent.”

There’s always a pitiful pause whenever a camper figures that out. This one is somehow … clunkier. “Oh,” Percy says. “Oh. Okay, that makes sense. For a second I thought—phew.” Then his eyes trail down to the thread hooked around your fingers, the five beads you run your thumb over. “How long have you been here?”

“Five long, blissful years,” you hum dryly. 

Water ripples over pebbles on the shore. Every new camper’s ambition is eroded by the truth you represent. Percy’s no different. His brows furrow and his face falls. “And you’ve never been claimed?” He asks, and you can feel the noxious mix of pity, confusion and despair laced beneath it. 

You shake your head, watching some Demeter kids splashing each other’s canoes with their oars. “Nope. But it’s not so bad. I like my cabin, you know? I like my life. Doesn’t really matter who your parents are anyway, I think. You do the same activities as everyone else, just on different teams.”

“But doesn’t it make you mad?”

“It used to,” you shrug, “But not anymore. It’s just …” You sigh, rolling a bead against your thumb. “If I’m unclaimed, I’m unclaimed. That’s the way it is. You can’t force the Gods to do anything.” 

“That’s what Luke said,” Percy remarks, almost bitterly. 

“I’m a rare case though, Percy,” you half-lie to him, nudging him a bit with your shoulder. “You’ll get claimed. It’s your first day. And until then you’re kind of free to be whatever. You don’t have to fit into anything, which is kinda nice, and you can screw around as much as you want and nobody can really get mad at you ‘cause you’re new.” A smile rises on your face. “And I heard you killed a minotaur, so you’ve already got some cool points.”

His face screws up in a grimace, and it makes you laugh. “Oh joy, cool points. Can’t live without those.”

Okay, maybe you’re not bad with kids. Maybe you’re just bad with boring kids. Because this is going decent, right? 

“What if I don’t get claimed, though?” Percy asks after a moment, a vulnerable note eclipsing him. It resonates inside your chest. You pause for a moment, heaving a loaded breath. 

“Do you fart a lot in your sleep?”

His melancholy pauses. He looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “Uh … what? No? I think?”

“Then you can take the bunk above mine if you want. It’s empty now,” you say. “And if you’re never claimed you can come swimming with me, and we can find seashells to put under Luke’s pillow every night until he starts thinking they’ve always been there.”

Percy blinks. “Do you have any friends?”

“Yes, and I’m going to torture him until I die. Cabin eleven is oodles of fun, Percy, you’ll see!”

He looks a little horrified. “Luke said I was going to like you,” he mutters. “I … am not sure if he’s right.”

Oh, well. You’ll take it. 

ii. you can't help but become the sun

You can’t sleep, and Luke knows it. His eyes burn into the side of your face as you stare up at your bunk. You sneak him a look. He smiles ruefully. Sweeping his arm up from beneath his covers, a makeshift tent is formed next to him. He nods to you. Before you know it, you’ve abandoned your own bed, taking a single step until you skirt into the pocket of his mattress Luke has carved for you. He lets the sheets fall, cocooning you with him the way he always does. 

You’ve been sharing beds on occasion for years. One of you gets cold, has a nightmare, or wants to talk until your mind fades out, the only solution is a place next to each other. Whispers against cheeks, giggles muffled into pillows, necklaces knocking together. You used to be further apart. Now you can’t remember the last time Luke hasn’t latched onto you the second you’re within reach. It warms you a little more each time. 

When your head hits his pillow, the two of you just stare at each other for a moment, lips pursed in amusement. His face is so wildly nostalgic to you—five years seems like too short a time to have known him. His eyes are pitch-dark and soft with exhaustion, but you can still pick out the trademark Hermes mirth glimmering through. You sometimes forget his scar, probably because you know he wants you to forget it. He’d kill you for thinking this, but you kind of like the way it hugs the curve of his cheek, bunches up when his dimple appears. It makes you sad. It makes you happy. It makes you love him. 

“Percy likes you,” he whispers, opening himself up so your chin brushes his shoulder. “That’s a first.”

He’s only wearing a tank top to sleep, so his warmth seeps through his skin when you tap him on the chest. “Shut up!” You hiss back, tapering into a giggle. “Has he picked up on anything yet?”

Luke bites the inside of his cheek, regretfully shaking his head. “Nope. But all that skill stuff is kinda arbitrary anyways. He’s still hung up on kleos, though, so … that’ll come in handy for Capture the Flag.”

“Ah, yes. Using a child’s misguided need for fulfilment as a weapon. A camp classic.” 

“Well someone’s gotta be useful for Capture the Flag in this cabin and it sure as hell isn’t you, mermaid,” he barbs back. 

Your jaw drops in mock offense and you squeeze a hand around his shoulder to shake him. “I will put you in a headlock right now, Luke, I’ll break your arm—”

“Be quiet!” He giggles as you attempt to wrangle yourself on top of him. “I’ll be nice to you, I’ll be nice, stop!” You get absolutely nowhere before the bed creaks and Luke shoves you back down. Your pulse rattles through your mouth as you laugh silently. “You’re the worst,” he mutters in your ear, raising the hairs on your neck.

“Well Percy likes me, so,” you turn your nose to the sky like a haughty old lady. 

“Percy’s a funnier, less annoying version of you,” he pokes your side. “That’s how I knew you’d get along, you weirdo.”

The momentary adrenaline this conversation has brought you is mellowing. “Hey, I’m very—very funny,” you mumble through a yawn. 

Luke laughs quietly. “Sure you are.”

He pulls you back to him, arm slung around the dip of your waist. When you make no protest, he seals you against his shoulder again. It’s started to feel a little different, him holding you like this. There’s an uncertainty your body faces about how to respond. His thumb runs over your spine and you decide to relax into him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. Your chin knocks against his collarbone and you have the urge to curl yourself against his chest, just to feel him breathe. 

“Get some sleep, sailor,” he murmurs, fingers brushing through the roots of your hair. You don’t think he realizes he’s doing it. Your cheeks warm, and you bury yourself even further into the space against his shoulder and his pillow. Gods, there’s something wrong with you, isn’t there?

“Will do, soldier.” The campy voice you do is half hearted at best as you find yourself absorbed in the closest thing to a full home you’ll ever get. In this sleepy hollow with bedsheets and a boy, there is acceptance. 

Well, mostly. You think you dream about Luke brushing a kiss along your hairline in your last bit of consciousness. You think you wish it was real. You think you want him to do it again.   

iii. when you don't know who you are, you fuck around and find out

The last time your cabin lost a game of Capture the Flag, you’d still been taller than Luke. That’s how long your winning streak has felt. There’s no reason you foresee that changing today. Even when Annabeth drags Percy along with her on whatever surely precarious quest to victory she’s created. It’s unlike her, to bring a newbie along. It’s concerning. 

“He’s fine,” Luke drawls to you when your face has been tense for twenty minutes. “Annabeth’s got a plan.” He’s a little winded after clearing out some Ares kids with Chris. You aren’t much use when it comes to weapons—your friends take the lead as you wait from a distance, ready for backup. Thank the Gods they didn’t need it this time. You’re content to just watch, but whenever Luke grins after getting another kid to surrender, veins in his arms raised like rivers on a map, you get a little distracted and you’re not sure why. 

You just huff back at him, totally normal when he wipes a sheen of sweat off his jaw. “Annabeth’s gonna use him as cannon fodder,” you mutter back, and Luke hits your arm with an appalled grin. 

Annabeth did, in fact, have a plan. So you won. Obviously. 

You’re still doubtful Percy wasn’t cannon fodder, though, with how beat up he looks on the shoreline when the rest of your team flocks to the stolen flag to claim victory. He’s slumped down on the rocky shore, a few equally beaten Ares kids straggling away from him. 

“So I was right, huh?” Luke hums in your ear, pulling your eyes to him. 

He’s revelling in newfound glory, and damn it, you get confused when you look at him when he’s like this. You’re not sure when it happened but you want to tear your heart out of its chest because of how sick it makes you. Some of his curls are stuck to his forehead with sweat, his hair suffering a serious case of helmet-head. But it’s the pride oozing off him, the infectious happiness laced through his smile, that makes you fond of him in a way you’re not sure you should be. He’s beloved for a reason—he looks almost prophetic after winning a match, and he knows it. A glaring difference between the gangly boy you met all those summers ago. If you weren’t his best friend, you’d probably be one of his many admirers, watching his teammates fawn over his talent and wishing you were beside him. 

But you are beside him. And you’re his friend. Not an admirer. So everything’s fine. 

“You wouldn’t be saying that if we lost,” you retort, knocking your chestplate against his. It’s meant to be a friendly nudge, but Luke leans into it until you swear you feel his heart beating through the metal. 

He’s grown into his smile, less boyish and more wry. “You know I never lose, sailor.” 

You want to reply, but his eyes are startlingly pretty in the sunlight. That’s normal. Whatever. A heat rises in the apples of your cheeks so you scoff lightly and turn away as soon as possible. You feel Luke’s gaze following as you turn attention elsewhere. Your sternum feels fluttery.

Percy catches your attention again. Gods, he looks beat. He’s talking to Annabeth as she helps him up, and you see the gnarly scrape marring his cheek. You should probably check on him, right? 

You’re halfway to the kids when Annabeth shoves Percy backwards into the water. Like, shoves. 

“Annabeth!” You’re scowling at her the same way she scowled at you when you first hit Luke with that oar, rushing over to help Percy. 

“What is wrong with you?” Percy sputters out lying in the lake, but you’re ankles-deep in the water before you know it. He’s glaring daggers at Annabeth, but she looks relatively unimpressed. What happened during this game? 

“Thanks,” Percy mutters as you help him up. 

You say something to shrug it off but you can’t remember what, because your eyes are drawn to the scrape on his cheek. You have to blink a few times to get it, but you’re pretty sure it’s dissolving. Vanishing off his skin. “What the hell?”

Everyone on the shore is watching him now, trying to memorize his injuries before they wash away. Percy’s staring down at himself like he’s just been body-swapped. “I don’t understand.” 

You’ve never seen anything like this before. The strangest feeling fuels you—your bones feel firmer somehow, like the blood inside your body has weight to it. Like something is happening. A fear pierces your gut. 

Annabeth’s eyes have raised, and so have Percy’s. Your mouth goes dry. Right above him is the symbol of a trident, radiating so blue it washes out the sky itself. 

The claiming symbol of Poseidon. 

“Your dad’s calling,” Annabeth says, a smile itching the corners of her mouth. 

Percy looks like he’s going to pass out. You probably do too. “Told you you’d get claimed,” you manage to squeeze the words through the knot in your chest. 

You’re smiling until Percy looks at you, then looks up. His face goes white as a sheet. Or, as white as it can bathed in a pale blue glow. “Uh…” He blinks slowly, and your stomach twists. “I think she was talking to you.”

When you look up and see an identical trident looming over your head, you know something’s wrong. It’s made worse when Chiron rings out your and Percy’s name, branding you as children of Poseidon. 

Poseidon. 

You have a father. And he’s known you all this time. Your ears hollow out like a rush of water in a cavern.

Luke is the first to kneel. The rest of the camp follows. You watch as the entire camp basks in the glory of newcomer Percy Jackson, so quickly claimed by one of the most powerful Gods of Olympus. And you, who has waited five years to earn even a shred of his favour. 

This thing you’ve wanted for so long is suddenly the greatest insult in the world. Your best friend can’t even meet your eyes. 

iv. i remember who i am when i'm with you

You stare at Percy as he unpacks his things. Waiting to see traces of yourself in his face, traces of your father. Anything that could give you an inkling of what he looks like. Of what you look like. Of how this happened in the first place. 

It’s a futile search. Percy’s blue eyes, his freckles, the bridge of his nose, they’re all … nothing. Half of you is half of him, but there’s no indication of which parts. The cabin is cold. You’re not going to sleep well without Luke nearby. You’re not going to sleep well ever again. 

You feel nothing but strife, your throat closing in every time you take even a second to think. You don’t want Percy to see you cry. So you do what you always do. 

This has to be in the running for most overwhelming day of all time ever. Even when submerged in your favourite place on earth, you can’t get away from your dad. Your dumb stupid dad that has made the things you love and has ruined your life. 

You swim hard, and you loathe how good it feels. At least you know why now, but that doesn’t do much to ease you. When you pop up again, the sun has started to sink into the sea. And Gods, you have to give your dad credit. The landscape is so gorgeous you almost forget how long he’s ignored you. 

You wonder if this is the last time you’ll find solace in the lake. If eventually, it’ll be nothing but an extension of your father’s neglect. 

The water ripples around you. You frown, barely having noticed it when someone taps your shoulder. You turn. “Luke?” You swallow, but why are you surprised? 

He’s panting, cheeks splotched with sun as he treads water, droplets worming down his face from his soaking curls. “Been looking for you,” he puffs, “Percy’s worried. Called you from the—from the thingie but don’t think you heard me.”

You assume he means the docks, but you don’t say anything as he takes a deep, grounding breath. “You’ve been out here for hours. Hours. For a second I thought you drowned.”

“Now we know that can’t fucking happen,” you mutter a touch too bitterly, staring down at your legs warped beneath the water. 

Luke’s silent as he watches you. “…Have you been crying?”

When you don’t reply, Luke tugs on your wrist. “C’mon, sailor, let’s go.”

“Not tired,” you say, frozen by the hot tears brimming on your lashes. 

“I’m not leaving you out here. Come on.” He frowns when you yank your hand away as he tries pulling you again. “You’re gonna get heatstroke.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

He reaches for you again and you try to reject it for a moment, but he’s stronger than you, and he loves you better than even the water could. The second he has you close your resolve falters. He holds you against his shoulder, knees knocking against yours as you tread. 

“It’s okay,” he croons when you involuntarily start to cry. For a Poseidon kid, you can’t seem to control your waterworks. “It’s okay, I know.”

His hand cards through your scalp and you relish in the warmth of his bare skin on your cheek. He smells like comfort. You cling to it with all you have, until your nails start to dig into his skin and your eyesight blurs. 

“Come back with me and I’ll dry you off, okay?” He kisses the top of your head, the way you dreamed it last night. “I’ll take care of it.”

You’re not sure which it he’s referring to, because it could honestly apply to anything. When you both set off for shore, you’re so distracted by your own misery that Luke’s actually able to keep up with you. He’s up on the dock before you so he can pull you out.��

The second you’re out of the water you feel like you’ve been gutted with a lead pipe. All the energy it gave you leaves, and you realize just how right Luke was about spending too much time out there. You can’t feel your legs. 

You buckle over almost instantly, but Luke holds you before you can even think of falling. “I’ve got you,” he assures, guiding you down to sit on the dock. Your eyes are too weak to even admire the sunset. Luke drapes a towel over your shoulders, rubbing it over your arms, a welcome familiarity. He takes his time, wringing your hair and drying your back as you gaze blankly ahead. There’s a tenderness to it now. Luke’s ruthless when it comes to a lot of things. When it comes to how he loves, too. But there’s nothing demanding here. He lets your tears fall in silence, undisturbed, the touch of his hands through the cloth a silent promise. 

When you’re fairly dry, he fetches something then quickly comes back. “Here.”

It’s his shirt. You only notice you’ve been shivering as he pulls it over your head, lets you fill in the sleeves, gently gathers your hair back. “Thanks,” you say. His fingertips brush your neck as he hooks them around your necklace to rest it over the shirt. You think he does it to remind you you’re still the same. You’ve had five years together. It doesn’t have to end now. 

“Why did it take him so long?” You struggle to say, eyes glossed like sea glass. “Why—why now? What did I do?”

Luke puts an arm around you. “I don’t know,” he mumbles honestly. 

You sink into his warmth like a wave meets the shore. “Five years, Luke. He ignored me for five years. And he takes Percy right—right away.” It’s hard not to choke between every word. “I just thought I’d never get claimed, and I was fine with that, and now I’m … this!”

Its hard to tell if the dampness of your cheeks are the remnants of saltwater or your tears. “I don’t want this,” you sniffle. “I waited so long … and I just don’t want it.”

Luke rubs your shoulder, lips pursed against your head. He murmurs into your hair, “I know, sailor. It’ll be okay. Promise.”

His voice is reserved. You look up at him. His jaw is resolute, his eyes red-rimmed in a way you hadn’t noticed before. “You’re upset too,” you comment quietly. 

He laughs listlessly. “Yeah, of course I am. I’m losing my favourite cabin mate.”

You sniff and try to smile. “Percy?”

He rolls his eyes fondly, and it feels like all you want. He squeezes your shoulders tight and you long desperately to be closer. “I just don’t know what I did wrong,” you whisper, pressing your cheek into him. “Why didn’t he see me until he saw Percy? Am I just … unremarkable or something?”

“No, no. Absolutely not—c’mere.” Luke loops an arm around your waist and manoeuvres you into his arms, cradled on his lap so you can bury your face in his neck. You can’t stop fucking crying, but his patience for you is infinite. “You are by far the most remarkable person I know.” He seals you against his chest, scratching your scalp the way he knows you like. “None of this is you, okay? Your dad’s an idiot. You are—you’re everything. They’re all mindless up there, they don’t know how to love you. They don’t deserve to.”

An edge seeps into his timbre that gives you pause. You feel weak, discarded. It sounds like he’s talking about a different person. But he’s right. He has to be, because he knows you better than you know yourself.

Luke keeps going. You peek at his face when he speaks. Stubborn as ever. “He doesn’t have any fucking right to you. If he wanted that he should’ve claimed you when you got here. You have a life. You … you had a home. And now just because he’s got another kid he kills two birds with one stone? He pretends like this is some Godly intervention? Like he didn’t ignore you the whole time you’ve been here because he couldn’t stand how much you didn’t need him? How much better you are? You’re my …” He struggles, brows furrowed, the sun melting in his eyes. “You’re my best friend, and we’re supposed to be together. He’s not allowed to take that from you.”

Your heart stirs. “Sounds like you’re jealous,” you try to tease.

Luke heaves a sigh, his muscles rippling against your chest. You’re suddenly aware of the fact that he’s got no shirt on. And that he’s pressed against you in a way that makes you question if you should be this close. Beads of water cling to the divots in his skin, and you linger a little too long on one nestled in his collarbone. You swear you think this every time he goes swimming with you: when did he get so … hot? And every time you think it, you want to gouge your heart out with a spoon. 

“Can you blame me?” A melancholy smile plays on his face. “I liked having you all to myself.”

Tears spring to your eyes all over again. “I liked that too.”

It’s a whisper that sends you forward, Luke bringing his forehead to your own, and you want to live in the warmth that coils through you. His nose catches against yours when he laughs, but he doesn’t move. You take a moment to savour it. You think he does too.

He wipes a tear off your face as you say, “I’m still yours.”

“Yeah?” Luke hums a bit, his hand sliding up your waist in a most unfriendly manner. “How?” 

You catch the glimmer in his eyes, that plucky smile he’s had since fourteen. Something shifts.

“What are you asking me, Luke?” You can’t fight the smile. 

“What do you want me to ask you?”

“I dunno, what do you want me to want you to ask you—”

“My Gods, you’re a pain in the ass.”

He groans, throws his head back, and kisses you like you aren’t the most annoying person in the world. 

It’s so cliché, but for a brief moment your strife is well worth it. You yank him closer before he pulls away. It’s a little unsure, the two of you so used to toeing the line, but soon you’ve given in and your hands are in his hair, mouths parting, and it’s messy and wanting and everything you need. 

Luke slips his hands beneath the hem of your shirt, palms flattening against your sun-beaten skin. It feels so good, better because the shirt is already his, a whine scratching your throat as he moves up so his thumbs graze the skin beneath the tie in your bathing suit. 

“Oh, sailor,” he coos against your mouth. You want to retaliate but it’s lost when he squeezes your thighs, warming you in all the right places. It’s hard to understand this is even happening—it feels like you’re underwater, a blissful fuzziness growing in your head entirely at his mercy. 

He razes kisses down your still-damp neck, catching pearls of water on his tongue. You cling to his shoulders, raking your hands down his back just so you can feel more of him. Luke’s dropped down to your collarbone at this point, tugging the neck of your shirt down as his teeth graze the bone. “You’re my best friend,” he mutters over your skin. “Still mine. Always mine.”

“Mmhm,” is all you can say back, the husk in his voice making your eyes screw shut. He teases a spot so sensitive you groan and laugh at the same time. The regret is immediate, but you feel a chuckle pass his lips, too. “Luke,” you purse a smile. He dots kisses back up your neck until you start returning the favour. 

You kiss his jaw, a few spots on his neck, feeling the flex of his muscle all around you as he squeezes the fat of your hips. You finally sweep up the water in the hollow of his collarbones, and his grunt of your name makes you, frankly, delirious. 

He brings your mouth back to his, skin sticking to each other. It’s harder to kiss as fervently when you’re both giggling against each other’s tongues, running fingers along the planes of each other’s bodies trying to see which places feel new and which are known from memory. It’s a fifty-fifty split, and you love it. 

Somewhere along the way he peeled off your shirt because it was clinging in places you knew he wanted, but now you’re panting and giggling into his hair, his nose pressed into your neck, both of you melded together with salt and sun. “You really know how to cheer a girl up, mailman,” you grin. 

His lips fix to your skin. “Really? You’re still gonna call me that right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Like it better when you call me captain,” he murmurs, nose grazing along your pulse. 

You swallow, “That doesn’t work unless we’re doing the whole sailor-ship bit.”

“We’re always doing the sailor-ship bit.”

“I seriously can’t believe I’m in love with you.”

He sighs warmly at the words. “You have no idea how much I’ve been dying for you to say that. Even though I knew you would.”

You roll your eyes as he presses his forehead to yours, and you’re more glad than ever that his face is the one you love so much. It’s a pretty great face. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he says tenderly. “You’re too incredible for Poseidon. You’re worth more than that.”

He still looks gorgeous blurred by your tears. You listen to the beat of his heart and the waves rolling. “More than any water anywhere?”

“More than the fucking Styx, sailor. I’ll promise you that.”

That night, Luke stays with you and Percy in your cold chapel of a cabin. You exchange stories until Percy falls asleep in his bed, curled up like a sea otter. “He’s a drooler,” Luke notes fondly, eyes flicking to yours. “Like you.”

You shove his chest playfully until he wraps his arms around you and anchors you to sleep, like every night before. This time, as you drift off, he kisses your forehead again. Once because he loves you, and twice to make sure you know it’s real. 

luke taglist: @sunniskyies @apollos-calliope @lillycore @sunny747 @m00ng4z3r @pabkeh @thaliagracesgf @theadventuresofanartist @bonnie-tz @ash-williamsss @sucker-4-angst @kitkat-writes-stuff @too-deviant

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[chososcamgirl]

(SHE’S) JUST A PHASE CHAPTER FOUR: holy waters

masterlist

“Give it up for Miss Ayesha Erotica, everyone!” Yn announced with infectious enthusiasm over the radio waves.

Miwa, sporting vibrant teal hair and an equally vibrant grin, followed up with theatrical flair, “God, I love emo boy!”

Yn shot her a smirk. “Well, I’m pretty sure that’s a sentiment we can all get behind, right?”

Miwa didn’t miss a beat, her excitement bubbling over as she declared, “No Yn, I really, really love emo boys!”, being sure to enunciate the s at the end.

Yn’s face contorts as a picture of Megumi flashes through her mind.“That makes one of us,” Yn quipped, “but I see your point.”

“Seriously, though,” Miwa said, barely containing her glee, “today is shaping up to be amazing!”

Yn arched an eyebrow skeptically. “Oh? Do tell.”

Miwa’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she revealed, “Because Tridant has graced us with 10 free tickets to their show this Saturday, and we’re giving them away!”

Yn’s face twisted into a mix of dread and disbelief, her jaw nearly hitting the studio floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she muttered into the mic, trying to cover her panic with a forced grin. “Trident? You know I’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard.”

Miwa’s eyes widened in playful astonishment. “Huh, since when did you become such a critic?”

Yn leaned over and mouthed, “Just roll with it.”

Miwa nodded, her grin widening. “I know, but that’s exactly why this is going to be hilarious. We’re going to make someone’s day—and maybe even get you to enjoy yourself.”

Yn groaned dramatically. “Alright, but if I have to endure this concert, you owe me a full day of Solange on the station.”

Miwa clapped her hands together, her laughter echoing. “Deal! Alright, listeners, if you want a shot at these coveted tickets, call in now and tell us why you’re the ultimate Tridant fan. And don’t forget to shout out how much you adore these emo boys!”

As the phone lines lit up with eager callers, YN slumped back in her chair, torn between dread and reluctant amusement. Despite her best efforts to look disgruntled, she couldn’t help but be drawn in by Miwa’s infectious enthusiasm. And she knew Twitter would have a field day with this one—especially with a certain raven-haired boy likely to make an appearance in the trending topics.

“Megumi, get off your phone! We need to practice otherwise Gojo will be up our asses!” Yuta barked, his voice cutting through the cluttered practice room like a drill sergeant.

The space was strewn with old gear, tangled cables, and random junk, making it look like a tornado had hit a music store. Yuta, already in dad mode, stormed out, his footsteps echoing off the mismatched walls as he went in search of something crucial.

“Yeah, but Toge’s on his phone too,” Megumi shot back, his fingers still scrolling through his screen, barely lifting his gaze.

“Yeah, but nobody gives a fuck about him,” Yuji interjected from the corner of the room, where he was perched on a drum stool, grinning like he’d just won a prize.

“Suck my dick ,” Toge retorted, his white hair bouncing as he turned, looking genuinely miffed.

Megumi rolled his eyes with exaggerated drama, reluctantly shoving his phone into his back pocket. He could feel the buzzing vibrations through his jeans and couldn’t help but smirk, taking a twisted pleasure in the fact that he was managing to irk you.

“Ugh, Megumi, why are you grinning like that? A jumpscare warning would’ve been nice,” Toge commented, half-annoyed, half-amused, from his spot by the amp.

“Go fuck yourself,” Megumi snapped back, his smugness evaporating into a gruff irritation.

Did he really find joy in annoying you? Megumi mused, a hint of doubt creeping in.

“Hey, Megumi, you seem unusually cheerful today,” Yuta announced as he reentered, clutching whatever he’d gone to fetch with an air of importance.

“See? Even Yuta’s noticed,” Toge snarked, his eyes glittering with mischief.

“So what’s up, big guy?” Yuji asked, his grin widening as he strolled over, clearly enjoying the chaos.

“Did you finally get your dick sucked or something?” Toge blurted out, his tone blunt and unapologetic.

“Why would that make me happy?” Megumi shot back, genuinely confused.

“Because everyone can tell when you’re sex-deprived,” Toge replied matter-of-factly, adding with a laugh, “Plus the horny slash hate subtweets you’ve been posting do nothing for your case.”

“I’m not sex-deprived,” Megumi insisted, his face turning a shade of crimson.

“MY BOY!” Yuji cheered, rushing in for a celebratory dap.

“Not like that,” Megumi murmured, his cheeks burning as the room erupted in laughter, the awkwardness of the situation making it clear that maybe he should have kept his phone in his pocket.

“Alright, let’s get down to business. We need to nail this new song for our upcoming gig,” Yuta finally says as the laughter dies down, holding a stack of sheet music with an air of importance.

“Finally!” Yuji cheered, bouncing on his drum stool.

“Yeah, yeah,” Toge muttered, putting his phone away and grabbing the microphone. “Let’s see what this new song’s all about.”

Yuta handed out the lyric sheets and nodded at the band. “This one’s a bit different—more upbeat. I want to hear energy and precision. Let’s start with the intro and build from there.”

extras!

• the band in sjap is called triDANT not triDENT bc the group collectively came up with the name together but toge was the one entrusted (first mistake) who had to write it down for copyright purposes etc paper work ete anyways this man CANNOT spell so that's why it's with an A instead of an E lol

• yes the group definitely clowned him for it but they couldn't change it so it stuck and they ran with it

• toge did go to the gym but he snuck in when yuji went and they definitely blasted him on their social media page and stuck his face on the wall of shame😭

• the tickets sold out COMPLETLY and yn lowkey wanted one for herself…

• definitely did not smile to herself when panda told them he scored her tickets thanks to toge..

• dramatic ass

• megumi has convinced himself he only texts yn to piss herself and nothing more than that

• i aspire to be at his level of delusion

• yn, panda and nobara all went to whole foods and asked if they had any close to expire tomato’s at the back (they did)

• they went home with 2 crates full of the most saggiest wettest tomato’s in existence

• hope u guys enjoyed the week overdue chap :3

taglist: @shokosbunny @luvvmae @catobsessedlady @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @noodles-icetea @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @renbittt @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @oroborosttheiii @ichcocat @iiwaijime @drugzforyou @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @yomamablazeit @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @qtnfer @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @iheartlindz @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @7kn0wn @starantulas @1l-ynn @bonitoflakez @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

[restlessmaknae]

water prince // leehan

When you receive a wedding proposal from the Water Kingdom, you are set on making Prince Donghyun change his mind about marrying you. At least, until you actually see him for who he is.

➳ Characters: prince!Leehan (called Donghyun in the story) x princess!female reader/you

➳ Genre: royalty au, arranged marriage au, magical kingdom au, elemental powers au, fluff, comedy, a bit of angst too

➳ Words: 13.7k

➳ Warning: mentions of food, reader almost drowning and being seasick, Leehan's father in the story is quite hostile, Leehan feels insecure about not being loved by his father

➳ A/N: Happiest birthday to the loveliest person on Earth @dat-town❤️ So happy for everything you've achieved and so excited to see what you will continue to achieve! May you have the best year ever, and stay healthy and happy all throughout! ❤️

➳ Taglist: @s00buwu, @dat-town, @emmylksblog

“You are to marry Prince Donghyun.”

You literally choked on your water when your father announced the big news he had assembled the family for. Your little sister patted your back, trying to be helpful, while your mother shot you a surprised look as if she couldn’t decide whether you were appalled or delighted by the news, and that’s why you were so taken aback. Your brother, Sungho, sat in his chair in a calm manner as usual, quietly analysing the situation while cutting his meat into tiny pieces in the quietest way possible.

You couldn’t blame him. You were in the middle of your regularly scheduled dinner in the dining hall of the palace when the King finally told you what he had been hiding from you for sometime. Before that, you couldn’t even know whom it entailed - your little sister, Sunghee, your brother, Sungho, or you -, the only thing you knew was that your father had been in talks with other kingdoms. Which was nothing new, really, it was one of his duties as the King of the Fire Kingdom.

“Why him,” was your first question after you managed to stop coughing, and you couldn’t tell who was more shocked by your question: your mother, your father or your little sister. Sungho seemed rather amused, his lips slightly curling upwards. No wonder he knew you the best.

“Because they offered a wedding proposal?” Your father half-asked, half-answered, and as you put down the glass of water onto the table, you were trying to rationalise his words, but there was nothing you could rationalise about this. From a young age, you knew that this would be your fate, you just didn’t know how to face it now.

“I would rather know why I am supposed to be marrying a prince from the Water Kingdom, if it has to be Prince Donghyun out of all people.”

“They say that he’s really handsome,” Sunghee chirped in, her eyes already forming hearts at the mention of the prince. Then again, she was 15, and she had heart eyes for every prince that she saw at formal events.

“You should feel grateful that he chose you. Princesses from other kingdoms are all lining up for him,” your mother weighed in, nudging you in the side, and you felt like a kid being reprimanded for something that she had done, not a princess who didn’t want to marry a prince who had once tried to sweet talk her into dancing with him at a royal wedding, only to trample on her feet multiple times. That guy was full of mischievous ideas, and you wanted nothing to do with him and his troublemaker ass. Besides, he was said to be full of himself, and you hated nothing more than smug princes who thought that a few compliments would make a princess fall for them.

“Prince Donghyun’s birthday is coming up, and he is supposed to find a bride for himself after his 20th birthday. They sent out the offer on his behalf, but before they expect an answer from you, you are invited to his birthday celebration to get to know him better,” the King explained in detail, and you wanted to evaporate right then and there. Really? You were even invited to his birthday celebration? Was he really that enchanted by that clumsy dance you had had at the wedding, or did the Water Kingdom had ulterior motives behind this decision?

You let out a sigh in return, clearly against the whole thing, but it’s not like you had a say in it. However, you had a say in how you behaved around Prince Donghyun, and actually, this birthday celebration would be the perfect chance to make him change his mind about you - or his family or whoever came up with this stupid idea of being his bride. You could be on your worst behaviour, and make him hate you, or worse, make him disgusted by you, and that’s exactly what you needed.

“When is this celebration?” You inquired from your father who gave you a satisfied smile in return, and told you that he would tell you all of the details and show you the wedding proposal after dinner. Sungho narrowed his eyes at your sudden change of behaviour, but when you turned towards him, you merely mouthed “I know what I’m doing”, and he seemed to believe you, going back to his fig jam-coated meat.

Whenever you attended a formal event in another kingdom, at least two members of your family had to be present. Before you and Sungho had turned 20, you had always needed to be accompanied by an adult - mostly your mother because the King had other duties to attend to. Since you were both deemed responsible adults when it came to age and appropriate behaviour, the two of you could go together to Prince Donghyun’s birthday celebration since your mother was to attend one of her sisters’ wedding with Sunghee the day later you set out to the Water Kingdom.

Since travelling on a ship would have required more people to accompany you (and since you were often seasick when out on the sea), you travelled by carriage, and you were supposed to arrive the day before the actual birthday celebration as per the Water Kingdom’s request. That left you with plenty of time to tell Sungho all about your plan of changing the prince’s mind starting from your choice of dress for the day of your arrival - a beautiful, knee-length black dress with puffy sleeves and a V-neck that highlighted the pretty necklace brightening your pale skin with little diamonds in the shape of a flame. It was an appropriate dress in style and length, maybe the V-line was a bit steep according to some, but it was its colour that mattered. In the Fire Kingdom, black represented the end of something - just like how flames turn to black ashes when they can no longer feed on oxygen -, and usually, you wore black clothes at the seasons’ farewell ceremony. You had a farewell ceremony for all four seasons when you bid goodbye to the previous one and welcomed the new one, gathering around a huge fire and giving your blessings to the kingdom and the royal family.

You highly doubted that Prince Donghyun would be aware of such traditions in your kingdom, but that was the best part of it: that he didn’t know about it, but you knew why you dressed like that. You had other tricks under your sleeve, and whilst Sungho didn’t disapprove of your plan, he was partly worried about your feelings.

“Will you be able to handle that? You hate nothing more than embarrassing yourself,” he pointed out gently, in his own big brother way, when you mentioned that if you had to embarrass yourself for your plan, you were ready to give it your all. The goal was to make Prince Donghyun go back on his words - or beg the one who came up with the idea of you having to marry him to change their mind  -, and the journey getting there might not be all rosy, but it would be worth it.

“I’ll make sure I do it subtly enough to not bring embarrassment on myself in front of others. Plus, I think he will want to speak with me in private, so that’s when I need to strike for real,” you announced with a triumphant smile as you tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. The ladies all dolled you up at the palace, but if you were going to a battle, you needed to go in style.

Sungho didn’t show it if he was against your plan, and instead, he directed a topic elsewhere but your looming marriage proposal. This way, at least you didn’t feel like crawling out of your skin until you arrived, and guess what, Prince Donghyun just had to wait for you at the entrance of the palace when the carriage halted and the servants helped you down.

You tried hard not to stare at him because he did look… different. Of course, he looked different, he had been around 16 when you had last seen him; it had been a year after that ominous wedding, and you had seen him in passing in the circle of princesses who cooed all about his beauty and his deep voice and whatnot. Years had passed by, and he grew taller, his shoulders were broader, and his hair was longer, it reached his shoulders already. His features were less boyish, but there was still that mischievous spark in his eyes when you walked up to him after waiting for your brother to get out of the carriage.

You even forgot to look behind him to take in the grandiose palace walls and huge rose windows because he was the main view for you. The way the fading sunlight - late afternoon flowing into early night - shone onto him made him seem like someone from another world, or rather, someone from those fairytales your sister still believed in. If someone embodied royalty, it was him, and you had no idea how he had such an effect on you when you had come here to destroy his plans to marry you.

Alas, you could not let yourself sway just because he was pretty. Beauty could be deceiving, beauty could hurt, and if anyone, you knew that. Being praised for being beautiful, but never being praised for being smart or reliable or kind made you see this whole thing in a new light. So you kept your compliments to yourself, and focused on the boy’s cheeky smile instead.

There was a round of formalities with bowing and courtesy, the servants already hustling-bustling around you, carrying your luggage and gifts, and you heard two ladies from your own kingdom whispering about Prince Donghyun’s angelic smile as they passed by.

You rolled your eyes at their antics, but the Water Kingdom prince either didn’t seem to notice, or he didn’t mind. Instead, he posed a question that made you furrow your eyebrows.

“Did you come in black because you’re putting an end to your life without me?”

“Pardon me?”

“I read that black symbolises the end of something in your kingdom,” he pointed out in a casual manner, and you needed to hold yourself back from commenting that you didn’t expect him to do some reading on the Fire Kingdom and its traditions. You could clearly see Sungho’s facial expression though, he was visibly impressed.

The prince gave you a crooked half-smile as he took one step closer to you, closer than before, but not close enough to call it inappropriate. You had a feeling that he was playing at just that;  dancing on the fine line of being playfully flirtatious and a bit too much in general. 

“But did you know that it symbolises deep love in our kingdom? It’s a metaphor because if you love someone deeply, you would be willing to swim to the bottom of the ocean for them and the bottom is always so dark, almost black,” he continued equally joyfully, but you needed to gulp down the profanities that were threatening to leave your mouth.

Just how could you mess this up so badly? Not only had you chosen a black dress that symbolised deep love in their kingdom, but you had also failed to consider Prince Donghyun actually looking up the meaning of the colour in the Fire Kingdom. Well, you had to give it to him that he won this round, but you wouldn’t have said it out loud for all the money in the world.

So you let Sungho ask about the palace instead while you were ushered inside, and if Prince Donghyun had any itinerary planned for the rest of the day since you were supposedly the only ones who were invited to come a day earlier. Prince Donghyun explained that you would have dinner together and he could show you around the palace afterwards if you were up for it.

“Excellent idea! I would love nothing more than to spend more time with you,” you announced in an overzealous manner, hoping that it could make the prince falter in his good boy role. On the other hand, he seemed rather amused, not weirded out, and suggested that you could check out the lighthouse and the docks if you were that interested. You had no idea that they had such places on palace grounds, but sure, you were in the Water Kingdom after all.

Hoping to direct the topic to something else, when you spotted a bouquet of flowers in a huge vase, you acted oh so innocently as you asked:

“Ah, are these fake?”

“My mother picked them from her garden in the morning. She likes tending to her flowers,” the prince pointed out casually, and you bit down on your tongue in response. Damn it, why couldn’t you get a hold on him? 

Sure, you might have been the only kingdom that had fake flowers placed in the palace corridors because they just didn’t grow as exuberant as the ones in the Earth Kingdom, for instance, but you had different climates as well. You would think that the colder, rainy climate of the Water Kingdom didn’t necessarily help flowers flourish, but well… maybe you were wrong about more than just one thing.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, forcing yourself to shut your mouth, while you were following the prince and the servants down the corridors that were full of paintings of the royal family. The amount of paintings about Prince Donghyun from a very young age to present days was overwhelming: him with a book in his hands in what seemed like a library when he was a child, him in the garden surrounded by flowers, him standing by the sea, him standing by a fish tank, him holding a rose and the list goes on…

You weren’t sure whether looking at the actual real-life prince or his painted features was more unsettling, so you did neither and just stared ahead of yourself. Which was a mistake on your part because you managed to walk into the prince’s chest when he halted in front of a room.

“Are you alright, princess?” He inquired with wide eyes as he held you by the shoulders to steady you. You immediately stepped backwards, making him yank his hands away from you.

“I’m alright. It was just a bit dizzying with all the floors and corridors.”

“You will get used to it,” he said naturally, but there was a slight hint of nervousness in the way his eyes darted from your face to Sungho’s when he said the words out loud. Your brother, on the other hand, merely stayed still, calmly listening to your conversation. You were sure that you would hear his opinion on it later on, but for now, he didn’t seem fazed by the boy’s behaviour and flirty remarks.

“So will these be our suites?” Your brother asked to break the silence, and indeed, Prince Donghyun took this opportunity to show you to your rooms. Yours was fully equipped with a bathroom and a restroom, a huge wardrobe, candles by the double bed and a wide wooden desk by the equally wide full-length windows that led to a balcony. What took you by surprise was that the fluffy blankets, the luxurious curtains, the welcoming pillows and the walls of the room were all in different shades of blue, but it was done in an elegant way, so no colour overshadowed the other. However, the sight made you feel as if you were close to the sea, and you didn’t necessarily like it since the sea always reminded you of those boat travels when you got seasick.

Prince Donghyun said that a servant would come by when dinner was ready, but until then, he would let you unpack and settle down. When he got out of sight, you let out an aghast sigh, and fell into the bed, silently screaming into the pillows.

This was so not going as planned.

Dinner was passing by excruciatingly slowly. You literally checked the huge clock on the wall - which had a different type of fish painted by each number of the 12-part circle - every 5 minutes, hoping that time would go by faster, to no avail. You might have been able to spark a fire or put out one as a Fire Kingdom princess, but your magic didn’t involve meddling with time.

Alas, you had to sit through the forced conversation with Prince Donghyun’s parents (his older brother was away for a trade talk or something like that), and while his mother was a lovely woman, and her smile, at least, seemed genuine, his father was the definition of a politician. Which wouldn’t have unsettled you so much if you had not known his type, and how all of his sentences were well-calculated, carefully practised and being a part of a bigger plan. Even when he complimented his son, you could see that the prince was taken aback for he was smiling so coyly, you had a feeling that he scarcely complimented his children without an audience around.

You were thankful that Sungho was good at reading the room and changing topics in a polite enough manner, so that the King wouldn’t deem his action rude. It was difficult to displease them because while playing a foolish girl who always finds something to complain about and acts all so erratic was all fun and games with Prince Donghyun, when you tried to do the same in front of the royal couple, the King’s comments made you retreat. He was borderline misogynistic, saying that your honesty would be “cured” by having a husband, and that you should be lucky someone was willing to marry you with your reputation of being a fiery princess who always rejected princes.

It got to a point that you needed to excuse yourself to head outside because he started putting down your own parents for raising a princess like you, and you could not stand that. Even though you told them that you would go to the restroom, you had no place in mind, so when a servant left you by the closest restroom, you just stood there for a minute, completely frozen.

“Do you need anything, princess?” A familiar voice spoke up beside you, and you actually jumped back when you heard his voice. You were totally lost in thought, trying to process what you had been told, you didn’t pay attention to anything else.

Prince Donghyun noticed your shaken state, and his lips quivered slightly when you didn’t speak up. This was the first time that you saw something apart from mischief flash across his orbs when he looked at you, he looked genuinely concerned this time, and suddenly, you had no idea what to do with it.

“I’m so sorry about my father. He isn’t the best with…”

“You don’t need to apologise on his behalf. He needs to do it himself if he wants my forgiveness.”

The moment the words rolled off your tongue, you knew how naive it might have sounded, but you didn’t care. You kept your chin up high, kept the eye-contact, and the boy did the same. You had a feeling that he was afraid that if he looked away, you would run away. Which was incredibly close to what you actually wanted to do right then and there.

Even though you were usually good at keeping your composure in check, or at least acting like you didn’t care what people said about you, you didn’t have it in you to continue acting that night. So you were about to say that you would head back to your room to avoid having a conversation with the prince in your state, but he beat you to it.

“How about that walk to the lighthouse? That's the furthest place from the dining room,” he suggested out of the blue, his words carrying a certain gentleness. You couldn’t decide whether this was the perfect, kind prince role that he wanted to play, or whether it came naturally to him.

Nevertheless, you didn’t have the luxury to ponder over it, you just wanted a change of scenery - as much as the situation allowed, at least. So you gave in to the prince’s suggestion, and followed him outside the palace through a few unfamiliar corridors, walking through his mother’s garden to get to the docks. It didn’t resemble the docks for trading that you had been to before, it was a much more sophisticated one. It was more like a pier with only two ships waiting by the riverside, probably the ones the royal family used for travel.

For starters, the path was lit up by lanterns that glowed joyfully with the last few patches of the sunset still present on the horizon, like little fireflies in the night. The wharf itself wasn’t very well-lit, but the brightness coming from the lighthouse made up for that, illuminating the wooden structure leading up to it periodically. Even though there was mud where the water licked into the ground, the palace’s garden was connected to the shore with a little bridge, so you could walk on it as soon as you stepped past the fence separating the two sides.

Prince Donghyun held his hand out to help you step onto the wharf, and you would have objected fervently if it had not been for your dress - which seemed quite impractical for this kind of movement -, but alas, you accepted it. His grip was strong enough to hold you yet gentle enough to not crush your hands, but you didn’t hold onto him longer than needed.

“Oh no,” you said as soon as you stepped onto the wooden structure, realising that there was no railing on the sides. Even though the pathway was wide enough for two people, maybe even for three, in the momentary light the lighthouse provided when it was its turn to shine onto the wharf, you weren’t sure that you could cross it without getting panicky about it.

“What is wrong?”

“I don’t like the fact that there’s no railing here,” you announced as you pointed at the obvious lack of added safety, to which he merely gave you an amused smile.

“You can hold onto me if you want to,” he offered with a playful wink, and you were anything but impressed by his idea.

“I get seasick easily, and even though we are not on a boat, just the idea of being this close to water without an extra barrier makes me feel odd because I can’t swim, so…”

You were not one to talk about your weaknesses so easily, but the sight frightened you more than you would have admitted, and the words just rolled off your tongue without thinking ahead. It was too late to go back on your words though, you could already see how the prince was trying to make sense of the situation.

“I have an idea,” Prince Donghyun announced, mischief no longer evident in his voice as he turned his back to you and stood still.

You blinked, confused, and the thought crossed your mind that this would be the moment he would scare you or push you into the water, and you would have every reason to hate him then because you couldn’t swim. Not to mention that you were seasick often, so you absolutely detested anything that was related to water.

“You know, if you are trying to make a joke out of this whole situation, I wonder why-” You started as you took a step back in case he really did want to trick you. Instead, he raised his hands around him in a circular motion, and a few seconds later, a literal bubble formed in front of him. Then, he directed that bubble to hover between you two as he turned around.

“How did you do that?” You breathed, bewildered, as you looked at the water bubble in front of you, moving at his will. The boy couldn’t hide the smile that was creeping onto his lips at your awestruck expression that turned even more surprised when he started expanding the bubble. You were about to open your mouth to say that you didn’t want to get wet when it started getting so big that it almost touched you, but the collision never happened. What happened was that the bubble grew around you without touching you at all, so ultimately, you found yourself insead it, the world around you suddenly quiet and dim.

“It doesn’t burst with human contact or with objects. At least, I can now control it,” Prince Donghyun explained with a bit of a giggle as he stood inside the bubble with you.

You shook your head, trying to recover from this daze, but gosh, it was such a mesmerising sight. The prince looked to be in his element as he was talking about how he had learned to create bubbles and then to control them, all wide-eyed affection and enthusiasm pouring off his gorgeous features. Even if you had moments before when you questioned just how genuine he was, you couldn’t question it now, it was enough to look at him. He was dazzling, maple-brown shoulder-length hair tucked behind his ear, big doe eyes filled with stars, while he was showing you how you could touch the bubble from the inside, but it wouldn’t budge.

“I am good, aren’t I?” He quirked an eyebrow after his monologue, a proud smile tinting his lips. You looked back at him, rolling your eyes at his antics, but you had to try hard to sniffle your smile.

It felt like being inside a separate little island as you were walking inside the bubble, walking towards the lighthouse. You had to be close to him though, or else, he would need to expand the bubble even more, so you followed him diligently, and only halted when you reached the end and stood beside the beacon. This part of the wharf had railings, but you almost didn’t notice because the bubble kept out not just the outside world, but also your worries for a while.

“I didn’t know you could do something like this.”

“I’m glad to hear that I could surprise you,” he flashed you an even wider grin, if that was possible, but there was something coy about it now, as if he couldn’t believe that you could see him in a different light. Well, what could you say? You definitely didn’t expect this either.

The prince seemed curious at this point about what you could do with your powers, so you told him that you could make anything related to fire - you could create a spark, you could light up a fireplace, you could burn objects if you got your hands on them, and you could also put out fire if needed. There weren’t a lot of uses to your power, to be honest, but you didn’t mind. You always had a feeling that the reason war didn’t break out between the kingdoms was because you could only practise your magic in your own kingdom, meaning that you couldn’t do anything with fire here, even if you wanted to.

Prince Donghyun was attentive and curious, his eyes still having that bright spark to them, and for a short while, you even forgot why you ended up there, inside a bubble he created. Yet, when the next strike of light shone onto you two, and you felt your throat closing up at the sight of him - so boyish, so gentle, so affectionate -, you told him that you wished to go back.

He did seem a bit disappointed, but an understanding smile replaced his momentary pout in a bit, and he walked you back without a word. When you stepped off the docks, the bubble didn’t actually burst around you with splashes of water, it merely disappeared. You attempted to seem disinterested, but you were impressed, even if you tried to divert the topic elsewhere.

When you reached your suite, Prince Donghyun offered that you could let him know if you needed anything anytime, he would assist you. You could even knock on his door at the break of dawn - he had shown you where his suite was located on your walk back from the lighthouse -, he would be ready to help.

“Shouldn’t I notify a servant instead?” You raised an eyebrow, challengingly, but the boy either didn’t seem to take note of it, or didn’t deem it as an act of challenge.

“Well, I’m a man of many charms, and I can do a lot more than you think I’m capable of.”

“A man, pff. You’re not even 20 years old,” you pointed out cheekily, and he let out a deep, long laugh before his features went back to their previous state.

“But I will turn 20 tomorrow. I will be a man,” he retorted as he took a step closer to you, his eyes not leaving yours. Your heart betrayed you because when your eyes locked, that traitor decided to skip a beat. You had never been this close to him before, not even inside the bubble, and instead of feeling like you had to keep your guards up, you wanted to destroy the walls you built around yourself, and in that moment, he looked like he wanted to do the same.

“Good night, Princess!” He wished with a widening smile, shattering the serene moment into tiny little pieces, before he turned around and walked away.

The birthday celebration officially started the next day at noon, but guests started arriving from early morning. You didn’t even finish breakfast, you were notified that the first carriage pulled into the court, and Prince Donghyun dutifully followed his mother outside to greet the guests. The King was supposedly in his study, but you actually preferred it that way, especially after the previous night’s conversation at dinner.

So that left you and Sungho enough time to finish the rest of the breakfast while discussing the day ahead. Your brother even brought up the events of last night, and where you had been with Prince Donghyun.

“Nowhere scandalous, trust me!” You justified more fervently than needed, and Sungho held up his hands as a peace offer. He looked like he was conflicted whether he should be amused or concerned by your dramatic reaction.

“I would have been surprised if you had been anywhere scandalous, especially with your plan to make him change his mind,” he pointed out reasonably before reaching for his mug of tea. One of the reasons why you liked your brother was because he could keep his cool, and he knew you well enough to not jump to stupid conclusions. His question was probably more out of curiosity than teasing either way.

Hence, you decided to be honest with him, though you didn’t want to talk about Prince Donghyun creating a water bubble around you, so you would dare to walk the wharf with him. You didn’t know why, but it felt like a rather affectionate reaction to your seasickness, and you didn’t want to bring it up.

“He showed me the lighthouse, and we talked about our magic, and what we can do with it.”

“Seems pretty ordinary to me. Where did you leave your over the top acting?” He inquired with a playful smile, and you gently pushed his shoulder with your own.

“I didn’t feel like doing it last night. The King’s words got to me more than I would have thought so,” you admitted feebly, suddenly finding your empty plate more interesting than anything else in the dining room. You were usually not one to be swayed by others’ opinion, you weren’t a naive and scared teenage girl anymore. On the other hand, you had never even met anyone as hostile as the King of the Water Kingdom, and you had met a lot of royalty, so that said a lot.

“I’ve heard that he’s like that with everyone; he’s never truly satisfied, and doesn’t agree with anyone even if he’s wrong. So it wasn’t directed at you,” Sungho reassured you softly, and when you looked up at him, you directed a grateful smile at him. He always seemed to know what to say, and you appreciated it more than ever.

You didn’t have a lot of time to yourself afterwards because the servants notified you that you should get ready for a bath before they would do your hair and make-up. So you followed them and let them take care of you from head to toe. Sometimes it felt cumbersome to be all dolled up for an event, but you enjoyed being pampered after the previous day, and you didn’t want to let it show that you had been affected by the King’s viciousness.

Red was the trademark colour of your kingdom, so you picked a cherry-red dress for the event, one that you always felt so powerful in. The bottom part was a widening skirt in wine-red with a thin, more translucent layer covering the silky one underneath that had such a nice fall to it. From your waist up, the material switched to lacy with pretty embroidery making it more intricate on your chest and on your arms alike. Golden beads dotted the middle line that ended in a V-cut that revealed an appropriate amount of skin before it closed up underneath your neck which was covered in beads again. You had matching burgundy high heels to top the look, though they would be covered by the wide skirt either way.

The ladies curled your hair and made the locks resemble the waves in your dress, letting them fall over your shoulders elegantly, with the exception of your front locks which were held back and secured to your temple with a ribbon. Your eyes were covered in a mixture of sparkly silver and burgundy, your lips the colour of ruby-red apples.

You were of the opinion that if you were forced to attend such events, you would do so in style, and you were thankful that your parents let you choose your outfits and consult the tailors yourself, they didn’t really meddle with your preference in dresses. Same went for Sungho who showed up in a burgundy-black outfit with delicate embroidery on the chest of his long-sleeved shirt, and an exquisite pair of cotton pants.

As always, you didn’t fail to compliment the other’s look, and when the beginning of the celebration was announced, you made your way to the ballroom, your arms resting on your brother’s. Since he was by your side, you were more reassured that you barely knew anyone here, though you saw a few familiar faces from other kingdoms. It was easy to tell who came from where because apart from a few different colours, everyone chose to dress in the trademark colour of their own kingdom - blue for the Water, green for the Earth, white for the Air and red for the Fire Kingdom. Since most of them wore some kind of blue, you assumed that quite a lot of relatives of Prince Donghyun showed up, and judging by the older boy by his side, you guessed that his brother also came back from the trade talks in time for the celebration.

The King started his toast with a historical lesson on the Water Kingdom which bored you to no end, so you rather chose that time to examine Prince Donghyun’s flawless outfit. What you expected from such a flawless visual, though? Sure, he would have not looked as dashing in a stable boy’s clothes as he looked right now in his light blue shirt dotted by silver pearls that resembled tiny little water drops, tucked into midnight-blue cotton pants, his shoulder-length hair partly tucked behind his ear, but he had a certain aura to him that was hard to beat.

You might have been staring at him for quite some time because he caught your eyes, and suddenly, you felt exposed. Not only because you had been quite obviously checking him out, but also because he didn’t seem smug or teasing, he seemed rather in awe, his lips slightly parting. Could it be because of your dress? He was clearly looking at you, so it couldn’t be because of someone else, and yet… oh that traitor heart of yours betrayed you again.

“Am I interrupting something?” Sungho mumbled quietly, so only you could hear him, but even his hushed voice was enough to turn your cheeks ruby-red.

“What are you talking about?” You turned to him, trying your best to put on an act, but your brother knew you well enough, he knew that you were lying.

“You seemed to have a moment there with Prince Donghyun, and I suddenly felt like an intruder. Come to think of, yesterday evening, you also left with him, leaving me behind, which implies that despite the fact that you claim that you want to change his mind, you have also fallen-” He started up on a whole monologue, and you had never been more thankful in your whole life that the crowd cheered and clapped, so their loud voices covered up what he was saying.

“Oh yey, it’s finally over!” You clapped enthusiastically with the crowd when the King finally ended his speech, and people started dissolving from the middle of the ball room. Sungho would have probably continued teasing you if it had not been for Prince Donghyun walking right up to the two of you because then, he shut his mouth, but his eyes were telling a different tale.

“May I have this dance?” The prince inquired as he motioned towards the people who started dancing in pairs not far from you which made you realise that you and Sungho just happened to stay at the exact middle of the ball room. Which was awkward in itself, but the way your brother bit down on his lower lip to prevent himself from saying anything made it even more awkward.

You felt the need to clear your throat before you answered.

“Only if you’re better than you were at 15.”

Prince Donghyun let out a joyous laughter hearing your proclamation, probably remembering that memorable dance from years ago all too well.

“I can assure you that I’m way better than I was at 15. I’ve taken dance lessons since,” he claimed proudly, puffing his chest out, and Sungho chose this moment to leave you two behind, stating that he was not in the mood for dancing, so you two go ahead. You tried to sear holes into his back while he was leaving you two behind, but to no avail. He didn’t even look back.

“Sure. Let’s see how much you improved. But if you step on my foot, I will step on yours too, and trust me, you don’t want to encounter these high heels closely,” you threatened half-jokingly as you turned back to Prince Donghyun, but he merely laughed off your warning. He seemed pretty confident in himself, so you wanted to give this a chance, and indeed, he did the right thing by immediately extending his hand to you, so you could reach for it. Then, he escorted you further into the dance floor, expertly manoeuvring around already dancing couples.

If the beginning wasn’t enough to convince you, the rest of the dance sure was. The boy knew what he was doing, and he did it confidently. You could tell that he had taken those dance lessons seriously because there was only slight hesitation in his movements when he first touched you - your hand, your back and your waist -, afterwards, he overcame his coyness, and continued on like nothing happened.

He held himself like a prince, a delicate prince, and you were bewitched by the twinkles in his chestnut-brown eyes, as if stars were truly dancing in them, he was glowing, his endeared smile crowning his look. He held you so steady that you knew, you could tell that if you were to fall down, he would be able to catch you, and you had never felt so taken care of during a dance. It wasn’t about him showing off - despite how he introduced his dance skills -, it was about elevating your dance experience to something you had never had before.

“I’ve told you I got better,” he stated matter-of-factly after swirling you around, and when he closed the distance next, you found yourself mumbling something along the lines of:

“Yes, I can tell.”

“Excuse me, I couldn’t catch that. Could you say that again?” Prince Donghyun teased you, flashing an all too boyish grin, and you rolled your eyes, not believing his antics. Fine, two can play this game, you thought, before you leaned closer and tiptoed on your heels, so that you could be at eye-level with him.

“You can really dance like a man now, Prince Donghyun,” you whispered into his ears, and when you leaned back, you could see a pinkish hue colouring not only his cheeks but also his ears. You got him flustered, and you called that a win.

The song the musicians were playing came to an end, so you let go of his shoulders, and sank back to your heels. The boy was so dazed that he didn’t let go of you for a few more seconds, only when you thanked him for the dance and wished him a happy birthday. You knew that other girls would be lining up to dance with him or other royalty to have a word with him since it was his birthday celebration, so you let him enjoy his day, and got lost in the crowd of royalty.

You ended up having a talk with a princess from the Earth Kingdom, then two of Prince Donghyun’s cousins - Prince Jaehyun and Prince Woonhak - who chirped your ears off about how excited they were to meet you, and shared embarrassing stories about their cousin without flinching an eye. You were sure that it was a way to show you that Prince Donghyun was more than meets the eye, but you got the most surprised when they claimed that the prince had been harbouring feelings for you ever since that dance all those years ago, and he had not stopped talking about wanting to meet you again.

“Why would he do that? I reprimanded him for dancing so poorly,” you pointed out matter-of-factly, but that just fuelled the boys’ chattering even more.

“Oh yes, he did say something about loving the fact that you dared to put him in his place.”

“And that you weren’t afraid to speak your mind since most royalty wouldn’t do so,” Woonhak added to Jaehyun’s answer, and their words just made you wonder even more how much say Prince Donghyun had in this wedding proposal. It should have definitely gone through his father, which made you question why he had even agreed to it if you could not appease him at all, but was the choice ultimately the prince’s? Or did he have as much say in it as you did?

You were about to ask the cousins about this matter when the King announced that it was time to slice the five-tier cake, but he wanted to say a few words before. The princes beside you got all too pumped up at the mention of dessert, and excused themselves to get closer to the cake, so they could be one of the first ones to have their share.

“I would like to start by saying that we are very grateful to have all of you here to celebrate the birthday of our younger son,” the King started with his best neutral smile as he gave Prince Donghyun a side-eye who tried hard to appear more gentle than his father. You could feel from the moment you were here that their relationship was quite strained, but what his father said next just went beyond anything you could expect.

“But we have more to celebrate today, and I would like to hereby announce that our first-born, Prince Donghee, is going to marry Princess Dayoung from the Air Kingdom. Our son has just returned from finishing up on the marriage talks, and the wedding will take place in two months’ time.”

The claps came on quietly at first, then they appeared thunderous in the vast dining room, echoing back from the walls in a mocking tone while Prince Donghyun tried his best not to seem affected. You could tell that his small smile that didn’t reach his ears was anything but joyful, and he clapped like he was a mere shadow of himself. His father didn’t seem to take note of it as he asked Prince Donghee - the older brother you had seen by his side when they had started the celebration - to step forward and say a few words as well. It was all too perfect, all too practised, you felt sick to your stomach as you watched the scene unfold in front of your eyes.

“Marriage talks are underway with princesses for our second-born as well, but it looks like we have to put them on hold to prepare for the wedding day,” the King concluded after Prince Donghee was finished with his own speech, the room filled with roaring cheers once more.

You should have felt relieved that your possible marriage with Prince Donghyun was put on hold, and you should have felt a bit enraged that there were other princesses in question since they had not told you that you had competition. It shouldn’t have mattered, really, but you didn’t like the way the King was playing this game, and you felt anything but triumphant over the news. The prince seemed gutted, to say the least, and the way his eyes were searching for yours told you that he hoped that you wouldn’t take his father’s words the wrong way.

No wonder you didn’t feel like having a slice from the cake when they finished their speeches, and when you saw Prince Donghyun quietly walking away from the crowd, you decided to go after him. You met your brother in the meantime, and told him that you would be back. You didn’t know where you were going, and for a moment, you thought that you lost sight of Prince Donghyun, only to find him leaving through the garden, heading towards the lighthouse.

You tried to catch up to him, but he was a few metres ahead, and didn’t seem to notice you following him. However, when you stepped onto the dock, and realised yet again that there were no railings in sight, you came to a halt.

“Prince Donghyun!” You shouted after him, trying to gain his attention. He immediately turned around, his eyes widening in surprise when he caught sight of you standing still at the very end of the wharf.

“Princess, what are you doing here?” He inquired, his tone neutral, as he stood there, standing still a few metres ahead of you. You felt like there was a distance between you two both physically and metaphorically, and to hell to all of your plans of changing his mind, you would feel awful if you didn’t check on him after how he had checked on you last time following the King’s derogatory remarks.

“I wanted to see if you’re okay,” you blurted out, surprising yourself with how confident you sounded, but how couldn’t you? The prince in front of you never looked more vulnerable, more humane and more in need of a heart-to-heart talk - a mere 20-year-old boy who was hurt, and everyone decided to turn a blind eye to him and his feelings. The way his eyes were full of sorrowful stars instead of the joyful ones you usually saw swimming in them, and the way his lips quivered, full of emotion, but they looked as if they had never learned how to curl into a smile clenched your heart, not just a little.

“I’m not sure this is the right time to talk,” he dismissed your confession, the look on his face betraying his own words, because he looked like he wanted to talk, he just didn’t want to admit it out loud. He was ready to walk away from you when you finally broke from your frozen state, and took a step closer to him.

Your heart was in your throat as you took one step after another, focusing on the prince’s frame instead of the obvious lack of railings by the sides. You pursed your lips in concentration, remembering all those etiquette classes when you had learned how to walk in a straight line. Yet now, your steps were wobbly, your high heels clicking on the wood underneath your feet, and your long skirt didn’t help either.

However, when Prince Donghyun heard that you were indeed walking after him, he turned around, and started walking towards you. It crossed your mind for a moment that maybe he would walk by you, so that you wouldn’t come after him, and when he halted beside you, you held in your breath nervously, more nervous than you had ever been around him before.

“Why did you start walking after me? It’s dangerous,” he pointed at your dress, but there was no malice in his voice. Instead, he sounded as gentle as if he had been talking to a child. For a moment, you couldn’t find your voice, and when you did, you were all just a jumble of words. Gosh, this boy…

“I am… I just… I thought…” You started, inwardly cursing yourself for ever putting yourself in this situation. You hated nothing more than embarrassing yourself, and he knew that, he knew that all too well.

“I’ve never thought I would make you speechless,” he mused out loud, the side of his lips curling upwards, and you felt the need to punch him in his chest for teasing you like that. You were ready to do just that, raising your left hand, but he reached out for it instead, and laced his arm with yours, as casually as if it had been the hundredth time he did that.

Now you were actually speechless, blinking up at the boy whose side profile was enough to tell you that he was feeling rather shy himself, both his cheeks and ears were turning red after his gesture. He guided you towards the other end though, holding your arm safe and steady, as you were walking side by side towards the lighthouse.

May it be because you were more awestruck by Prince Donghyun’s gesture than your own fear of the open water around you, but you were at the other end before you knew it, and you didn’t even think about falling into the water, not even once. Or may it be because he was holding you like he wanted to protect you from all the bad in the world, but there was gentleness in his grip, something that didn’t go unnoticed by you (and that traitor heart of yours).

“I’m sorry about what my father said. It’s true that he has been in talks with other kingdoms regarding marriage proposals, but I haven’t been in talks with anyone other than you. I’ve wanted to tell you sooner, I just-”

“I know, I could tell,” you cut the prince off before he could feel even more guilty about something that wasn’t in his control.

“Really?”

“Yes,” you nodded seeing his bewildered expression. Well, you couldn’t blame him since you definitely looked like you wanted to find anything you could criticise about him or his kingdom the day before, but this - standing beside the lighthouse with his arm around yours, watching the setting sun on the horizon - was different. “And I know we don’t always have a say in what we want when it comes to the matters of our own kingdom. Plus, marriage is a serious topic, and it’s understandable that your father looked at other options, too,” you added matter-of-factly, but you could feel a little bit of a lump in your throat.

Prince Donghyun didn’t say anything for some time, so you hoped that you didn’t cross any boundaries. You could feel him tense a bit beside you, and since you didn’t know why, you let go of his arm, so he could have his own space if he wanted. He looked at your retrieving arm for a few seconds before he spoke up again.

“I’m not sure how to word this, but I feel like my father… he doesn’t love me the way he loves my brother,” he confessed, raw and vulnerable. He was staring far ahead, but you could tell from the way he was clenching his jaw that even this was hard for him without looking at you. “I don’t know why because I’ve tried everything my brother can do, and still… I always get that I’m only good for my looks, and I should marry someone who could bring more to our kingdom.”

You felt your heart drop at his confession because it resonated with you so much, especially the last sentence. Even though you weren’t pitted against each other with Sungho, you were also told by distant relatives and royalty from other kingdoms that you were so beautiful, but nothing else, and that you should marry someone who could make you someone. As if you weren’t already someone just by being born into your family. You weren’t perfect, but you tried to learn how not to let it get to you since as a princess, you had to deal with such comments all the time.

On the other hand, you would have never thought that Prince Donghyun might be going through the same thing because everyone had been gushing about him, and not just about his looks. Yet, you could never know what goes on in a palace unless you live there yourself, so you would never have the heart to question his words. You could tell that he was telling the truth.

“I know it might sound naive given that we are royalty, but the only person you should be good enough for is yourself. Trust me, you will feel a lot lighter if you know that you live your life for yourself, not somebody else,” you shared honestly, looking at him, and that’s the moment he turned his head to look at you, too.

When your eyes met, you thought that he would ask you about your experience, and you would have told him. Something in you shifted since last night, and you weren’t trying to undermine his efforts and see him in a bad light anymore. In fact, what all that bravado showed you was that he still accepted you, and he was willing to put up with your behaviour no matter what.

However, instead of asking about your side - though you had a feeling he understood you even without saying it out loud -, he said the next few words that truly put everything in a whole new light:

“But I want to be good enough for you, too.”

Sunset reflecting in his eyes, painting his locks in shades of chestnut-brown and statice-purple, his tall frame towering over you as if he wanted to shelter you from the outside world, your heart skipped a few beats before it picked up its pace, and started thumping against your ribcage, electrifying your whole body from head to toe. Your throat was dry, your words non-existent, and you unknowingly took a few steps backwards, as if to detach yourself from this perfect moment… only to step on the insides of your two-layered skirt, and fall - very far from elegant - into the cold water.

Your body was in survival mode immediately, your arms flailing around wildly as you tried to keep yourself up in the water. Your lungs were on fire, and despite the fact that you tried to pacify your breathing, telling yourself that you would be okay, your brain didn’t listen to you, and made up worse and worse scenarios of you drowning there. Even when firm arms took hold of you, all you could think about was that there was no air, no air, no air… drowning, drowning, drowning…

It could have been mere seconds, you couldn’t tell, before you got to the shore, and Prince Donghyun helped you push yourself upwards, so you could cough up the water. It felt so violent, your lungs and your throat seemed to battle each other while your eyes were on fire due to the salty water, and your whole body was shivering in your cold, damp clothes. In the meantime, you could subtly feel his gentle pats on your back that turned to circles when your coughs easened up, and your breathing wasn’t stridulous anymore.

“It’s okay. You’re safe now. It’s okay. I’m here,” Prince Donghyun said as a mantra while you were trying to pull yourself together. Yet, the moment you felt your shock fading away, you found yourself tearing up, your body starting to shake with the sobs.

Prince Donghyun looked alarmed for a moment, not knowing what to do with you, but you didn’t let him decide. You threw your arms around his equally wet body, and sobbed into the crook of his neck.

“Thank you… for saving me,” you mumbled between ragged breaths, and an intense wave of sobbing came over you when you said the words out loud. You could have died, you could have died just a few minutes ago, and he had jumped in to save you. He could have teased you that the water wasn’t that deep or he could have forgotten that you had told him that you couldn’t swim, and let you drown there, but he had jumped in without hesitation, and pulled you to shore so swiftly, you wondered if he had used some kind of magic just now. For you.

Prince Donghyun didn’t say a word, he let you cry as much as you wanted, while he was holding you safe and sound, while you were holding onto him.

A whirlwind of events followed your unfortunate fall. As soon as you entered the palace, the prince called for servants to help you undress, bathe and help you get warm, and he also notified someone to send a royal medic over to your suite after everything else was taken care of. You were trying to say that he himself should do the same, but he looked more worried about you than his own wet clothes and dripping locks, and you didn’t find the right words to say, still a bit under the influence of the past events.

You followed what the servants asked you to, and you liked that you were being told what to do for a change because it helped you to focus on something else other than the near-death experience. Whenever your mind was trying to replay the scene from when you had been in the water, you pulled yourself back to reality, holding onto the bathtub or the side of your fresh gown a bit more tightly, so as to keep you grounded. It was difficult at first, but the more you practised it, the easier it became, and when the servants tucked you into bed, you felt like you were close to being okay again. The medic also stated that you didn’t have a fever, there was no sign of a creeping illness, your heart probably beat faster than usual due to the shock, and prescribed some calming herbal tea.

Sungho visited you as soon as he was allowed to, and of course, he came with all those “I should have been there for you” monologues, the ones you quickly dismissed because you could take care of yourself, you didn’t need his supervision all the time, but mostly because it was your fault that you fell (and your dress’), no one else could be blamed for it. You also asked him not to blame Prince Donghyun, but he seemed more offended by the fact that you dared to assume that he would hold the prince accountable than by the way you were so quick to take the prince’s side.

“How could I blame him? He saved you, after all,” he declared simply, and let out a long sigh after his words. It was rare that you saw him so concerned, you usually didn’t give him any reason to worry about you, so it warmed your heart yet again just how much he cared under that otherwise teasing brother surface.

“I’m sorry for making you worried.”

“If you’re really sorry, you should get better soon, and listen to the medic,” he reprimanded you as if you had been a child, and maybe he thought the same because he let out a deep laughter afterwards. “Huh, I sound like a real big brother, don’t I?”

“You do, and it kind of scares me a bit. When did you grow up?” You mused out loud playfully, and the effect was immediate. The boy’s furrowed eyebrows smoothed out, and his features easened, softened, his shoulders sagging at ease. He crouched down to toss an unruly lock to the side that was falling into your eyes, and patted your head.

“I remember I did the same when you fell into that pond on our trip to the meadows,” he reminiscenced with a soft smile, and you didn’t need to be told twice what he meant by it. You remembered that day as if it had been yesterday. You had been 12 at the time, and your family had already known that you didn’t know how to swim, so it had been Sungho who had jumped after you. He was already an excellent swimmer, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been shaken by that experience. You remembered how he had stayed by your bedside for the whole night afterwards, afraid that nightmares would haunt you.

“Will you stay by my side for the night this time, too?” You elevated an eyebrow challengingly, and he let out a bewildered huff in relief.

“Do you think I don’t know that you wouldn’t let me?”

“Fair point,” you agreed wholeheartedly, but let him pat your head a few more times before there was a knock on the door. You both turned towards the visitor when he opened the door, and when it turned out to be Prince Donghyun, Sungho gave you a knowing look before telling the boy that he should come in, he was about to leave anyway. It didn’t slip your attention that on his way out, he squeezed the younger prince’s shoulder in an affectionate manner, and even though you didn’t see it from that angle, you had a feeling that he said thank you to the prince, and that’s why he seemed so coy all of a sudden.

His hair was extremely fluffy (now that it was freshly washed like yours), the locks curling elegantly around his ears and neck like soft little tendrils, his doe eyes shining in the dim lights of the room, all bright and fond. He was wearing more casual attire than at the party, so you deemed that him jumping into the water after you meant that he had no desire to go back to his birthday celebration that was soon coming to its end either way.

You felt awfully exposed with your hair still wet at the ends, lack of concealing touches and make-up on your face, and being tucked into bed in a nightgown was not at all how you wanted Prince Donghyun to see you, but he didn’t seem fazed by your appearance. Nor did he make a comment on it when you beckoned him closer, and he could see for himself that you were fine.

You wouldn’t admit it for the world, but it warmed your heart how worried he was, and when it was the fifth time you had to reassure him that you were fine, you had a feeling that it was more out of guilt than anything else, hence, you felt the need to emphasise:

“It wasn’t your fault that I fell into the water, so don’t be sorry. What’s more, you saved my life, so I couldn’t be more thankful for you,” you admitted genuinely, and the blush that crept onto his cheeks was adorable. You had to bite down on your tongue to hold yourself back from smiling at his shy state.

“Still, I’m sorry that you had to experience it.”

“It wasn’t the first time, actually,” you justified, and continued telling him about that time at the pond Sungho had just talked about, and one time when one of the royal teachers had tried to teach you how to swim, but you had nearly drowned. It hadn’t been a super important requirement for a princess to learn how to swim, but since you travelled by ships to both the Air Kingdom and the Earth Kingdom, it was a weakness that possible enemies could take advantage of if things went south. So they had tried to teach you, but to no avail. Your panic always kicked in as soon as water surrounded you.

The prince stayed quiet, and you couldn’t tell whether it was because he didn’t know if he was allowed to ask questions, or he didn’t have any. On the other hand, you had questions, so you inquired if he knew how to create bubbles underwater, and his eyes immediately lit up when he started talking about his power. He did know how to create bubbles both outside of water and underwater, so he could breathe in there without oxygen, and he shared that sometimes he used these bubbles to watch the fish and crabs underwater because he had always been fascinated by them.

His whole demeanour changed when he was talking about the sea and the creatures living there, sharing both stories of his childhood days when he had been collecting shells alongside the shore, and interesting facts about sea life that he read books on. At one point, he was so into talking about his favourite type of fish that he didn’t even notice a servant coming into your room and placing some food and another mug of tea on your bedside table. He only realised that the lady was in the room when she pushed a chair beside your bed, so he could sit down on it while talking. Then, he giggled, a heartwarming mixture of excited and embarrassed, and thanked her for the gesture.

“May I?” He asked before he would have sat down on the chair, and you nodded immediately. It’s not like you weren’t the visitor here, but you appreciated the gesture.

The prince was definitely interrupted because now he didn’t know where to continue or where to start, and he just looked around, his eyes darting between different parts of the room until they settled on the steaming bowl of food and the mug of tea on your bedside table.

“Oh, you should have it while it’s still hot,” he suggested as he pointed at the steaming bowl. “Since there was mostly heavy food for the celebration, I’ve asked a chef to prepare something more nutritious to prevent you from coming down with something,” he explained as he averted his eyes from the food to you.

You blinked rapidly at him, your suspicion kicking in, but then you remembered what he had said just a few hours before:

“But I want to be good enough for you, too.”

And it all made sense now. Not just his kind actions, going above and beyond to make sure that your stay at the palace was comfortable from offering to help with anything to checking up on you the first night you had that awful dinner with his parents, but also the way he was different to you than with other girls. Even if you wanted to deny it, you could see that the prince didn’t dance with anyone else at his birthday party other than you, and Prince Woonhak and Prince Jaehyun also said that he had been harbouring feelings for you, and now it made sense. He had even learned how to dance properly because of you, and he had created a water bubble, so you could cross the wharf with you.

“What’s wrong?” Prince Donghyun’s concerned voice brought you back to the here and now, and you just shook your head with a smile. You weren’t sure that you could ever look at him the same way after knowing that he liked you.

“Nothing. I’m just thankful,” you admitted, and reached for the bowl of steaming soup. You could feel the boy’s eyes on you when you took the first spoonful of the soup, but it was delightful, and when the prince asked about it, you said so. He seemed very happy to know that you enjoyed it, and went over what was in the soup, or at least, what he remembered the chef telling him.

“So…” You cleared your throat after the first few bites, feeling silly for wanting to bring up the topic, but also feeling silly for not wanting to bring it up. In the end, you thought better of it, and just blurted it out. “Did you have a say in the wedding proposal you sent me?”

“Yours was the only one I had a say in. My father sent out two inquiry letters to other kingdoms, and he was the one who chose the possible brides in those cases,” he answered immediately, and you saw heat returning to his cheeks when it dawned on him that he basically confessed that he was the one who had chosen you.

“Oh,” you found yourself saying, but the boy’s expression was quizzical upon your reaction.

“Oh? Oh as in ‘oh, I’m so disappointed’, or oh as in ‘oh, I didn’t expect that’ or… ‘oh, I’m so happy to hear that’?” He listed out the options, and furrowed his eyebrows, totally clueless. It was a cute look on him, you had to admit, especially in comparison to his usual confidence demeanour.

“Oh as in ‘oh, I didn’t expect that’, but it makes me feel kind of… good?”

The moment the last word rolled off your tongue, you knew that you were done for. Yet, the boy’s smug smile just confirmed that he wouldn’t let you live down afterwards, so you braced yourself for his teasing. Instead, his proud smile softened, his big doe eyes turning to little crescents as he watched you eat, and didn’t say a word. You found yourself smiling back at him, letting the silence embrace you, and it was so crazy that a day before, you would have done everything to change his mind about you, and now, you just admitted that you were glad that he was the one who had chosen you. Now, you had a better idea why he would have done so, and it made you feel fizzy and warm and a bit enchanted.

You were the only guests who stayed for two nights, but it was the Water Kingdom’s request, so nobody could blame you for it. However, staying for the night after having a heart-to-heart conversation with Prince Donghyun in your room felt odd, as if it was an invitation for something more even though you were perfectly aware of the fact that the King of the Water Kingdom would most probably do anything in his power to choose someone over you when it came to his second-born son’s marriage. The fact that the prince had been the one to choose you as a potential bride - and you had been the only one he had a say in - made you feel somewhat special, but it also made you feel slightly competitive.

It was laughable, really. You had come here to destroy Prince Donghyun’s plans to marry you, and now, you wanted to destroy his father’s plans to outrule you. You weren’t a petty loser, you knew how to lose, but still… with the way the prince cared for you and went above and beyond to assist you and keep you company during these days made you feel almost compelled to make a better impression on his parents. Not to mention the fact that he had also saved you from drowning.

However, nothing was certain for now, especially not with Prince Donghee’s upcoming marriage that would take the spotlight either way, so you didn’t want to pry about the matter on the day of your departure. On the other hand, you managed to bump into Prince Woonhak and Prince Jaehyun - also having stayed for the night after they had eaten through the whole menu for the celebration - when you left your suite, and they insisted that they wanted you to come back again.

“That isn’t my choice to make, I’m afraid,” you broke it down to them with a friendly smile, and Prince Woonhak pouted as if he would never ever see you again. You had seemed to make a good impression on them, and it warmed your heart since you had only had one conversation. Though that was a very important conversation given that they had spilled the beans on Prince Donghyun having a crush on you for years.

“You should invite us to your birthday celebration then. When is it?” Prince Jaehyun suggested with a wide grin, and when you let them know about the date and that you would keep his words in mind before organising it, he looked like an overzealous kid, all smiles and bright eyes. Gosh, they were so cute, it made you miss your ever-so-bright little sister even more.

“We’re rooting for you two, you know,” Woonhak beamed, not letting silence fall over the three of you, his unruly locks falling into his eyes.

“For who?”

“You and Donghyun. It’s obvious that you like him, too,” he continued with a smug grin, and you were about to open your mouth to decline him, but you were unable to form words. That just seemed to confirm everything in their eyes because their smirks grew even wider, their eyes even brighter.

Thankfully, you were interrupted by a servant who notified you that your carriage was ready, so after a few bubbly words and wishes from the two boys, you were guided outside. Sungho was already there, talking to the Queen of the Water Kingdom by the carriage while you caught sight of both Prince Donghee and Prince Donghyun bidding farewell to other guests. When you halted beside your brother, the Queen inquired if you had a good night’s sleep, and apologised for the inconvenience the day before. You reassured her that you weren’t inconvenienced, you were rather grateful for Prince Donghyun’s assistance, and she smiled a genuine smile, one that made your erratic thoughts calm down a little bit. The King might have been hostile towards you, but the Queen had never been openly critical of you, so you hoped that it could stay that way.

“Excuse me, I have to bid farewell to the other guests,” the woman announced after having a few words with you and Sungho, then, she reached out to squeeze your hands. The gesture took you by surprise, but only in a positive way. “Please, make sure to visit us again. Donghyun might not say it out loud, but I could see how happy your presence made him,” she shared with a secretive smile, and despite your bewilderment, you reciprocated it, squeezing her hands once before she let go.

“With pleasure, Your Majesty,” you bowed respectfully as both an answer and both a farewell. You watched her leave before turning back to your brother who had that amused half-smile playing on his lips that told you that he really wanted to call you out on something, but he tried to hold it in. Sighing, you raised an eyebrow in question.

“What is it?”

“It’s nothing, really. I’m just amused by the fact that you came here, set on not wanting to come here ever again in your whole entire life, and now, you just got invited again,” he blabbered as if his words weren’t teasing at all, but you didn’t want to admit anything, so you merely pointed out, trying to keep your voice as confident as possible:

“She meant ‘us’, not just me.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. Your Water Prince is likely walking towards us because he also wants to meet me again,” Sungho gestured towards Prince Donghyun who was indeed coming up to you, elegance radiating off him while he was taking one step after another. It was unfair how vividly he stood out, and how perfectly the morning sunlight bathed him in its glory, drawing a halo around his chestnut-brown hair. It was also unfair how much your heartbeat picked up its speed when he halted beside your brother, and how much you had to try to sniffle a smile when your eyes landed on his ethereal features.

“I truly hope you enjoyed your stay with us,” he started politely, probably as a matter of courtesy, and he was about to continue when Sungho spoke up.

“Oh, I certainly enjoyed my stay,” he said as he gave you a not at all subtle side glance, and you felt the need to roll your eyes at his antics. Gosh, did he have to call you out like that?

“Thank you again for the invitation, Prince Donghyun,” you spoke up as if nothing happened, and the boy beamed, a smile blooming on his lips at your words. Unbeknownst to you, your lips also curled upwards. Staring at him felt both so wrong and so right at the same time, and seconds passed by with the cacophony of the surrounding noises fading into the background.

At least, until your brother decided to clear his throat and announce that he would let you two proceed while he would check on the insides of the carriage. A lame excuse, you could tell, but you appreciated his gesture because while you wouldn’t do anything inappropriate with the prince that he should not be a witness of, you felt like you could say a proper goodbye to the prince if it was just the two of you.

“I hope you also enjoyed your stay despite my father’s words on the first day,” Prince Donghyun mused out loud, his eyes searching for yours, something akin to concern flashing across them. You bobbed your head, reassuring him that you were doing better than on that first day.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he noted, letting a small smile invade his lips as he looked down at his intertwined fingers for a few seconds. You had never really mastered the art of saying goodbye to someone, let alone someone like him… someone who made you feel so many things in such a short span of time.

Maybe he was the same for the silence stretched a bit too long, but before you could get discouraged again, you spoke up.

“Thank you for everything. My stay was more enjoyable… thanks to you,” you blurted out, your voice cracking a bit by the end. The prince looked up right in that moment, and his cheeks flushed, tinting his pale skin in the shade of cherry blossom-pink. You could also feel your cheeks heating up, and it was so unlike you that you felt like running away and throwing yourself into the carriage right away.

“Thank you so much for coming, and if it’s up to me, it won’t be the last time we see each other. If you let me, of course…”

The prince let his words trail off by the end, curious and contemplative, while his eyes never left yours. You felt another rush of heat going through your body at the implication behind his words, but even if you wanted to deny it, even if you didn’t, there was only one right answer.

“I’d love to see you again,” you confessed feebly, but in the next moment, you pointed a finger at him warningly to mask up your anxiety. “But only if you keep practising your dancing.”

Laughter bubbled up the prince’s throat - airy and carefree - before he promised you that he would keep practising, so that he could continue dancing like a man. Then, he flashed one of those boyish grins of his that made princesses’ knees go weak, and now you kind of understood why that was the case.

“See you again, Prince Donghyun!”

“See you soon, Princess!” He bid his farewell when the coachman came up to the two of you, letting you know that you could leave whenever you wanted to. You smiled back at the waving prince as you made your way to the carriage, and the coachman helped you inside.

Once you took a seat and looked up at your brother who was sitting in front of you, you warned him:

“Not a word, Sungho.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“That’s your luck,” you stated playfully before looking out of the window and watching Prince Donghyun’s waving figure getting smaller and smaller until he was out of sight.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for BOYNEXTDOOR or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

[tragedygroupie]

babysitter blues

cw: LEGAL age gap, fingering, praise kink, loss of virginity, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), daddy kink, blink and you’ll miss it dacryphilia, authority kink (???), imbalanced power dynamic kinda???, alexandria rick, kind of long winded buildup to the smut, brief substance use (alcohol), soft dom! rick… yeah that’s all i can think of rn.

your entire life had been colored by an overwhelming sense of inertia. tucked away in the mundane labyrinth of the suburbs, not even the advent of the apocalypse could blot out the pervasive sense of ennui that had followed you since childhood. the horrors of the newly established outer world, the grotesque undead and the occasionally more dangerous still living were completely unknown to you. the apocalypse had not annihilated your reality, it merely redefined the confines of your sequestration.

life in alexandria was largely a matter of finding a way to pass the time. girls that barely qualified as adults weren’t exactly hot commodities, rarely sought out for anything, so it fell on you to fill the hours until the end of the world.

sometimes it was reading, which slowly morphed into a project of creating a library for the community, almost entirely curated from your own collection, with some generous donations here and there from bemused older folks surprised that young people still cared about that kind of thing.

other times it was babysitting, which started largely as preemptive measure to get out of being assigned any kind of work that would require any amount of physical activity. sure it was lazy, but you enjoyed the company of most of the kids, and they all liked you, enchanted by the whimsical dresses you wore and the stuffed animal army you had at your disposal.

truly, the only visible sign that you were experiencing an apocalypse rather than another red hot american summer were the bags under your eyes, perpetually exhausted from the never ending parade of nightmares that left you jolting awake, violently gasping for air.

a girl like you had no business hanging around a man like rick grimes. perpetually tense, eyes wildly darting around like he was itching to drive the butter knife he spread his jam with into the throat of some unspecified assailant. a bloody splash of color in your grayscale world. he was unlike anything you’d ever seen, a Marlboro man, blue collar through and through, from the dirt that he could never seem to fully rid his nails of to the rough, calloused hands that secretly made your mouth water.

this was the apocalypse, yet your sense of self preservation was as brittle as it’d been when you were sixteen. all your snark, that goddamn mouth that always got you in trouble evaporated when you were around him, replaced with an unfamiliar earnestness that made you cringe internally. you tried, really you did, to not follow him around like a lovesick puppy, to think of reasonable pretenses for your incessant need to be in his proximity, and fortunately enough, you quickly found an in.

no matter how adept rick was in this new world, he seemingly struggled when it came to childcare. when it came to his daughter, he was wildly protective yet somehow simultaneously clueless, and the first time you saw something approaching relief flash through his eyes was when you offered to look after her.

truth be told, rick didn’t quite know what to make of you. you were soft without being stupid, sheltered but not maddeningly clueless, and your eagerness to listen to him when everyone else dismissed him as paranoid endeared you to him in a way no one else in Alexandria quite managed. when you offered to look after judith, the last thing he thought was that you’d become a distraction. you were pretty, sure, but you were young enough to be his daughter, and if there was one thing rick grimes wasn’t, it was cliché.

but goddamn did you make it hard. his life in the new world had been characterized by leaving absolutely no room for error, every potential outcome identified and accounted for. yet in his brief respite from having to care for his daughter entirely by himself, he failed to consider that you wouldn’t just be a hot flash of want that pulsed through his veins whenever he happened to run into you, you’d be in his home. he was a stronger man than most, but he was still a man, and being in such close proximity to that kind of temptation was enough to drive anyone crazy.

every time he walked through the door it was something new. sitting on the floor with your hands outstretched, beckoning judith to crawl towards you, oblivious to your skirt riding up your parted thighs. bending over the cradle to kiss her good night, while the cotton of your already short dress just barely covered your ass.

you may not have been completely clueless about the dangers outside the walls, but you were downright brainless when it came to the effect you had on him, and it was that very lack of awareness that had him fucking his fist in the shower, coming with a groan to the thought of those pretty, naive eyes looking up at him as he split you open. it wasn’t enough, like putting a bandaid over a cut that sliced to the bone, but it was a safety valve, it kept him from doing something stupid.

today shouldn’t have been any different from the routine he had established. he got home as dusk started to settle, having made an extra effort to see judith before she went to bed. he tried to leave the frustrations of today at the door, determined to be a good father, to exact control over the flaming emotions that licked up his chest, stopping the spread before he became engulfed.

as soon as he hears your voice, with its lilting quality as you respond to judith’s babbling, the hard lines that have taken up a virtually permanent residence on his forehead soften. he walks across the threshold, into the living room where you’re sprawled across the couch, judith sitting on your lap. you get up, and he has a blissful few seconds to admire the dress you’re wearing, a little white dress with embroidered flowers better suited for frolicking in a garden than waiting out the end of the world, before you open your mouth to greet him.

“look who’s here judith! daddy’s here!”

fuck.

he knows you didn’t mean it like that, and a better man wouldn’t have thought anything of it. a clearly innocent comment shouldn’t have the blood draining from his head and rushing towards his dick, but the way that word rolls off your tongue is downright sinful. his face is an impenetrable mask of cordiality, concealing his desire as he answers.

“how’re my girls?”

it’s more forward than he’d be under any other circumstances, but he can’t help it, he needs to see if his words affect you the way yours do him. sure enough, a rosy blush blossoms across your cheeks as you hand Judith to him. the words rattle around your head, and you make a mental note to remember it for later, when you’re alone and twilight has fallen, so you can replay it in earnest.

“she’s been wonderful, we had so much fun today, didn’t we Judith?”

you go on, filling him in with details about the day, your voice becoming a pleasant hum that barely filters through, he’s too busy looking at you. all soft curves to his taut muscles, hands that’ve never seen a day of hard work. fragile things like you normally fill him with a vague sense of irritation, if not downright disgust, but with you it’s different, the overwhelming need to lay claim to the last bit of silken sweetness in this apocalyptic wasteland threatening to undo him.

dimly, he becomes aware that you’re asking if he wants to put Judith to bed tonight, and a dull panic sets in. you can’t leave, not yet, not until he’s gotten to feel you.

“i’d like to see how you do it. for future reference” he says, his voice cool and glacial, completely devoid of the growing desperation blooming in his abdomen.

you nod, secretly proud at the prospect of teaching him something. he’s so worldly, so knowledgeable in things you hadn’t even conceived, and the idea of him wanting to learn from you about anything makes you feel mature, no longer a lovesick puppy yapping at his heels.

you three go to judith’s nursery, and when he passes her to you, you begin to show him the routine you’ve established. it’s quick, nothing flashy, just getting her changed into her pjs, singing a quick song, and stroking her hair until she falls asleep. mercifully, she’s out like a light, and the two of you creep out of her room, careful not to disturb her. when you get into the hall, you avoid his eyes, unsure of what to do now. you see him so rarely, and without the buffer of Judith, you feel small again, all that newfound maturity fleeting, like it was never there.

rick has to suppress a smirk at your shyness, and after a beat of silence, he’s unable to resist making an offer.

“you want a drink?”

you look up at him, trying in vain to hide your excitement.

“sure.”

one drink follows another, though you never quite manage to get rid of the grimace that accompanies each swig. its endearing, he knows you’re only drinking this shitty beer because he offered it, trying to convince him that you can handle yourself. you’re sitting together on the couch, and the once respectable distance between the two of you has shrunk down considerably, your knee against his as you go on and on, talking about anything that catches your fancy. to his credit, he doesn’t seem to mind, nodding and trying to focus on your words rather than how soft and warm your thigh feels pressed against his.

“i know the whole library idea seem… frivolous, but you should come by sometime. i can recommend you something good.”

he smirks, his voice coming out low and measured.

“never said that darlin. i just don’t have a whole lot of time for reading.”

you shake your head, your voice earnest in a way that would leave you mortified if you were sober, trying to ignore the pang of need in your cunt at the pet name.

“bullshit. you’ve probably just… never read a good book. with the way the world is… who doesn’t need escapism sometimes?”

he nods, clearly humoring you. it’s nice to see you passionate about something, even if he shares absolutely no interest in it. he notices how you shift next to him, your thighs pressing together at the pet name, and makes sure to take note of it.

“amen to that.” he says, taking another swig from the bottle you’ve been sharing.

when he looks back at you, you have a dreamy, far away look in your eyes. he raises an eyebrow at you, his voice coming out teasing.

“have i got something on my face?”

you shake your head earnestly, your voice coming out achingly sincere.

“you have really nice eyes.”

he scoffs, amused by the observation. it’s something you’d normally be too scared to say to him, but the beer has clearly loosened your inhibitions, and goddamn if he doesn’t love it.

when you lean towards him, your lips meeting his softly, all unsure and sweet, it’s all he can do to not groan. this is wrong, you’re young enough to be his daughter, he should be the adult here, put a stop to this and gently tell you that you deserve better than him.

instead, he finds himself kissing you back, all those good, proper sentiments dying in his throat as he pulls you into his lap, his mouth never leaving yours. his hands are all over you, exploring every inch of the soft, supple flesh he’s been craving for god knows how long. you’re trying to keep up, your mouth clumsy and shy against his, but he’s relentless, his tongue slipping into your mouth as he kneads the plush of your ass through your white lace panties.

your dress is riding up your thighs, and it’s all he can do to not tear it off you. he knows he needs to be gentle, he gets the sense that you haven’t got much experience in this arena, even though his more primal instinct is to push you against the wall and fuck you till you see black. instead, his hands creep up your thighs, until he’s cupping your clothed cunt, your panties already dewy with arousal.

“fuck baby, all this for me?” he asks, his voice teasing as he marvels at how easily aroused you are. all this from a few kisses, it’s really just too easy.

you let out a keening whine, your hips instinctively rocking your cunt against his hand, desperate for any amount of friction. you nod desperately, too dumbstruck for words.

he chuckles, slowly starting to rub you through your underwear.

“use your words, pretty girl.” he says, his voice half joking, but with an undercurrent of seriousness, a warning that he’ll stop if you don’t comply.

your eyes flutter shut, the puffy sleeves of your dress falling down your shoulders as your hands go to grip his big arms.

“all.. for… you” you pant, your cheeks burning red.

it’s embarrassing really, how soaked your panties are. it makes you feel like a slut, but you know you wouldn’t get this way for just anyone. you couldn’t imagine being this easy for someone else, and if you were more clear headed you’d try to tell him, but all you can do is mewl pathetically, frustrated by how the lace of your panties dilutes the feeling of his fingers on you.

he chuckles, reading you like a book. he moves the lace aside, dipping his index finger into your aching cunt, biting back a groan when you gasp.

“that feel good, baby?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

you let out a whiny mhmmm, and he allows it, pumping steadily while the rough pad of his thumb rubs circles onto your clit. when he curls his thick finger inside you, you swear you see stars, and your nails dig into the weathered muscles of his arms.

“oh fuck, daddy” you mumble, too far gone to notice or care that you slipped up, oblivious to how his eyes light up at your words.

“poor thing… those little fingers just don’t do it for you, do they? can’t reach that far, isn’t that right?” he says, condescension dripping from his voice.

you nod furiously, your hips bucking into his touch as your head lolls for, letting him pull you closer into his arms as you whimper out a response.

“s-so close daddy”

he coos at you, that sweet desperation making him throb in his jeans. normally he’d make you work for it, make you respond to all his questions to build good habits (because there would be a next time), but he figures he’ll go easy on you just this once, especially when you plead so pretty.

“go on baby. make a mess f’me.” he says encouragingly, and that’s all it takes for you to come, burying your forehead into his chest as you ride out your high.

when you go limp, he starts stroking your hair, maneuvering your head so you’re facing him. he kisses you again, and it takes a moment before you kiss him back, your brain still partially fogged over from pleasure.

“you act like no one’s ever made you cum before” he says teasingly, and when your face flushes it just confirms what he already thought: you’re a virgin.

you avoid his eyes, your voice coming out all shy and flustered.

“i don’t really have much experience… is that a problem?”

he has to resist the urge to scoff, because no, that is absolutely not a problem. if anything, it makes him want you more. but he doesn’t want to scare you, so he just tilts your chin up so you’re looking at him, his hand cupping your cheek.

“it’s not a problem at all, honey. just wanna make sure you’re okay with all this.”

it takes all his self restraint to ask you that, because his jeans feel far too tight and all he wants to do is bury himself inside you before he preemptively blows his load, but he knows he needs to make sure you’re ready, that you want this too. despite everything, he’s still trying to be a good man.

you look up at him, and you nod, your pupils all blown out and hazy.

“ ‘m sure.” you say softly, before reaching up to kiss him.

he savors the kiss, giving you a moment before he stands up. you let out a small squeak, your thighs immediately going to wrap around his waist, looking at him in confusion.

“what, did you think i was gonna take your virginity on the damn couch? i’m not a goddamn animal” he grumbles, looking at you with fond irritation as you giggle.

he presses his lips to yours to keep you quiet, sloppily making out with you as he makes his way to the bedroom. when he gets inside, he lays you down on the bed gently, his mouth never leaving yours.

he gets you undressed in no time, not giving you a hard time about the fact that your white lace panties and bra are matching (almost like you were asking for it), and when your unsteady hands finally finish fumbling with his belt you get to see his cock for the first time. and fuck is he huge.

he looms over you, his arms caging you in as he presses warm kisses to your neck, trying to ease your worry. when he pushes in, he goes all the way, burying himself to the hilt. your eyes roll back in your head, letting out a soft cry as you snake your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you as he lets you adjust.

when he starts to move, he sets a slow, steady pace, and the ache gives way to newfound pleasure, your eyes screwing shut as he goes deeper than you knew was previously possible.

“fuck baby. you’re so fucking tight.” he mumbles, sucking a bruise onto your neck as you let out a moan.

when he’s sure you’re not gonna break, he starts to pick up the pace, his thrusts becoming harder and more pointed, earning whimpers and moans that seem to come from deep in your gut. tears start to fall down your cheeks, not from pain but from a combination of pleasure and being so overwhelmed.

“you cry so pretty, baby.” he says, angling his thrusts to hit that spongy spot inside your walls.

your face scrunches up as you get that newly familiar coiling feeling in your stomach, and you blearily open your eyes to look up at him, your bottom lip quivering.

“daddy… can i cum, please?” you whimper brokenly, and if he wasn’t almost there already, that definitely pushed him.

“such a sweet thing, asking permission on her first time. you can come baby, go on” he responds, his firm grip on your hips teetering dangerously close to bruising.

when you come, he can feel you pulsating around him, squeezing him like a goddamn vice, trying to milk him for all he’s got. it only takes a few more sloppy thrusts for him to join you, coming in you with a groan.

once you both came down from your highs, you turned to him, your body exhausted and spent. you weren’t exactly sure what he expected of you, you’d never hooked up with your employer before and all conventions about appropriateness were completely out the window when you had his spend dripping down your thighs.

“can i stay the night?” you ask quietly, your cheeks red with embarrassment.

to your relief, he just chuckles and pulls you closer, your head resting on his chest as he wraps an arm around you.

“sweet girl, i’d be a right asshole if i sent you home like this.”

you smile, quickly falling asleep in his arms. and for what feels like the first time in months, rick finds himself dozing off without much of a fight too.

[fuctacles]

LATE BLOOMERS

for @steddieholidaydrabbles Spring pop-up | T | 1k | no cw | t4t w transfem Stevie and transmasc Eddie, pre relationship, mutual pining | read on Ao3 | part 2

Eddie hates spring. 

It’s getting warmer and swarms of people are going outside to piss on his good mood. Kids are screaming, parents are showing publicly how terrible they are, the sun is glaring into his eyes, and birds are chirping. Literal hell. His last slivers of peace are the nights and early mornings when everyone is still sleeping.

Except her.

She’s new here, moved in around Thanksgiving last year, and has been running daily ever since. Eddie had noticed her passing his house now and then, her chestnut ponytail swinging with the movement. 

Every morning, in a very un-Munson fashion, he sits on his porch, the cold planks digging into his ass, with a thick sweater, and a coffee warming his body. All so that he can nod at one of the many joggers blemishing the neighborhood.

He always liked drinking his morning coffee in the crisp, chilly air, still foggy and void of people, still in their beds or getting ready for work. She is a great motivator to do it every morning, to wake up to his alarm and start his day early. 

She’s like clockwork, always on time and never out of breath. Barely missed a step the first time he nodded at her in a casual “good morning, neighbor” greeting, and now every time she passes his house she looks to the side, catches his eye, and smiles, raising her hand in a small wave. 

Eddie’s heart swells in his chest and he’s on the verge of weeping into his coffee every time.

It’s all the interaction they’ve had so far, and he’s not even sure what the woman’s last name is, though the rumors he’s heard say it’s Harrington. He likes to imagine she chose this route to see him just like he chooses to wake up early every morning to drink his coffee on the porch, even though no jogging type would go for a metalhead freak like him. He might just be conveniently on the way to her favorite bakery or something. 

He hates spring a little less when it’s warm enough for local joggers to dress down. It gets him swooning over some ankle like an ancient bachelor. A couple of days later the temperatures rise to sports bra levels which he learns the hard way while choking on his coffee.

It’s tight, obviously, but no amount of support can prevent the obvious bounce accompanying the movement of running. He tries his best not to be a creep and greets her with the same smile.

He thinks he’s prepared for the sports bra the next day, but he’s heavily mistaken when the transgender flag rounds the corner. He gets the coffee on his t-shirt this time as he recognizes the top she’s wearing from the same site he used to get binders from. 

She's a little hesitant with her greeting this time, and Eddie can’t stand it. So he opens his stupid mouth and yells:

“Me too!”

She looks at him quizically so he adds, albeit a tad more timid:

“I’m trans.”

And to his absolute horror, she starts walking up to him. 

He’s thinking the worst things: maybe the colors are just a coincidence, maybe she got it because she liked it and has no idea what it means, or maybe he’s about to get shunned by the local community that he already doesn’t feel welcome in.

But then there’s a megawatt smile directed at him and every bad thought evaporates from his brain.

“Really?” she asks, and he can only dumbly nod. 

“Thank god! I worried it would be like, a problem.”

Her hand is out and she’s right in front of him.

“I’m Stephanie,” she says. Her hand is warm against the morning chill. Enveloping and strong.

“Eddie.”

She smiles, warm and teasing, wreaking havoc across Eddie’s internal organs. 

“Is there a chance I’d get a glass of water?”

Eddie straightens up immediately.

“Yes! Of course! Come in, come in!” He opens the door and motions her inside, hoping the filtering jug is full. 

It is, so he pours a glass for the gorgeous creature in his kitchen.

“Thank you,” she says politely and it’s so simple, but Eddie’s melting inside as he watches her swallow the water and lick her bottom lip.

“Hey, listen…”

“Mhm?” he makes a questioning sound, eyes drawn to the way she crosses her arms, making the muscles flex and frame her cleavage.

“Would it be weird if I asked to borrow a sweater? I heavily overestimated the weather today.”

Eddie was nodding before she was even finished, head bopping so hard he was getting dizzy. 

“No! Just give me a moment!” he said before running up the stairs to his bedroom to grab the first clean hoodie he could find. “Here.”

“Thank you.” She smiles and he has the pleasure of watching her put on his clothing. “It’s stupid, but I’ve been dressing up, or dressing down rather, to…” She bites her lip as she zips up the hoodie. There’s a flaking-away Metallica logo across the chest. “There’s this metalhead on my route I wanted to impress, I guess.”

Eddie swallows down the lump in his throat.

“I’m pretty sure you’d impress him in a skiing suit.”

She chuckles. 

“You think so? Maybe I should just suck it up and ask him out then,” she wonders out loud, turning to leave, and Eddie’s stomach sinks. But then she’s turning back and laughing again.

“Eddie! Do you want to go out with me?”

The relief he feels melts his bones. 

“Of course I do! Why do you think I’ve been freezing my ass on the porch every morning?” He goes for the snark because he doesn’t know how to deal with having this beautiful woman’s full attention.

“Breakfast tomorrow? The usual time?” she asks. Because of course, she’d take him on an early morning date.

“Should I buy a tracksuit?” he jokes, but to his horror, her eyes sparkle.

“That would be perfect.”

Stevie event interest check

[mysmuttyy]

LISTEN; MATTHEO RIDDLE SMUT

stalker mattheo knows a lot about you, stuff nobody else knows.

MY BACK IS PRESSED AGAINST A TREE, thick book resting in the palm of my hands, pages flicking over in the wind. I haven’t been able to focus for the past five minutes, all I’ve done is stare out at the water, watching the leaves move with the wind.

The wind blows against me, fly aways falling into my eyes, repeatedly. I huff, tugging the strands behind my ears, but it’s no use.

I get close to getting up and leaving, but the sound of leaves crunching a little behind me steals my attention. Not many people know about the black lake, which is pretty odd because you’d expect the exact opposite, right?

My eyes focus on a tall figure, curly hair, muscular body. I can’t quite pinpoint who he is - til he gets closer, not noticing me under the big tree closest to the water.

I exhale a deep breath, about to get up and leave, again, but he steals my attention away. Slipping his black shirt over his head, tossing it by my feet.

His back muscles stare right at me and I can’t help but slam my thighs together, hoping he didn’t hear the slap of my skin. I breathe heavily, eyes wandering down his well toned figure.

Thick thighs stand out to me, sending wild thoughts running through my brain. A wet patch forms on the front of my lace panties, clit throbbing for him.

Mattheo Riddle, the dark lords son, someone they say is extremely dangerous. One they avoid in the halls, never daring to make eye contact with him. In my honest opinion, I think they’re over exaggerating. If he was a dangerous person, he would’ve done something by now and he hasn’t.

He keeps to himself and minds his business.

It kinda breaks my heart. He doesn’t have any friends, because people would rather judge him than get to know him. Stuck up rich kids with slyly torment him, trying to rile him up, but he ignores it.

“Are you done staring at me, y/n?” His deep voice speaks, making my stomach flutter with a flock of butterflies. That’s the first time I’ve heard him speak in two years.

The last time he spoke, he was apologising for getting in my way. If he was so dangerous, why would he apologise?

He clears his throat, pulling me out of my messy train of thoughts. “S-Sorry..Um, I’ll leave!” I exclaim, but he shakes his head at me, running his wet hand through his, now wet curls.

I push my thighs together once more, my face growing red at the way his stare makes me feel. “Did I say you had to leave?” He asks, raising his brows at me.

My heart beats even faster, so fast I fear it might pump out of my chest. “Well what do you want me to do?” I question, trying my best not to sound scared of him. It’s not that I’m scared of him, he’s just incredibly gorgeous and it makes me nervous.

Too nervous to speak.

“Take your shirt off.” He smiles, crossing his arms over his chest. My breath hitches, eyes widening at his words. His brown eyes stare into my blue ones, something glistening in them, something I can’t figure.

“My shirt?” I test, raising my brows, a smirk crossing over my face. He laughs, looking down at his chest. My body lifts, back no longer pressed against the painful back that was digging into my skin.

I slowly pull my shirt up, over my head, dropping it on top of his. He looks back up, face growing red when he looks at my cleavage. My smirk grows as I put my hands out, waiting for him to help my body into the water.

He takes my hands into his, turning me into liquid with just his touch. All of my confidence evaporates, on the spot, hairs that lie on the back of my neck sticking up. “T-Thank you.” I mumble, looking away from his gorgeous face.

Now that I’m in the water, the wetness of my arousal is easier to ignore. Mattheo and I’s hands are still touching, intertwined. The tension between us quickly grows, his eyes flickering down to my lips.

“Fuck, this is bad.” I speak, bursting the silence. He raises his brows at me, tilting his head in confusion. The curls on his head flop to the side, making me almost giggle at how cute it is.

“What’s bad?” He asks, confused look quickly turning into a excited, yet evil look. “Maybe you getting wet at my muscles, slamming your thighs together in hopes the throbbing dies down?” He ponders, letting my hands go, stepping closer to me.

I quiver, eyes widened, face tomato red. “Or maybe it’s the fact that you want me to fuck you right now?” He continues, fucking with your mind.

Anger boils in your chest as you step forward, slamming your hands against his wet chest. “First of, fucker! It’s considered rude to invade my mind without consent!” I shout, glaring up at the man with audacity probably bigger than his dick.

He scoffs, grabbing my throat in his veiny hand. “You must be really horny to be thinking of how big my dick is, huh?” He laughs, leaning down to my face.

“You’re thinking of fucking my tits, Mattheo. Don’t act so fucking innocent.” I retort, glaring harder at him. He lets my throat go, a look of shock on his face.

The two of us remain silent, our eyes locked, deep diving into one another’s brain. I grow tired of it, leaning up to finally smash my lips against his.

He kisses back, wrapping his arms around my body, pulling me to his chest. My breast press up against his chest, causing him to grow hard against my body.

“Tsk, tsk. You just got hard because of a stranger, that’s gotta be a little embarrassing.” You tease, not expecting him to say what he says..

“You’re not a stranger baby.”

—

A/n; I really don’t know what this is, but I’m really obsessed with the quiet kid trope. Mainly because I’m obsessed with a quiet kid at school 😃😃

Anyways, please send in some suggestions for what smut to write and who it’s ab!! Should I do pt 2?

[ramshacklerumble]

and the more that i am in pain, the more that you’ll gain (and to me, that seems like a pretty fair trade)

The boy was unconscious before he hit the floor.

Gia’s boot connected with his side.

Then his stomach.

His chest.

Face.

A blaze threatened to burn Gia to ash. Burning brighter and hotter and into a mounting roar— it would consume them to nothing. They could feel it in the trembling overtaking their body and so, in the only way they knew how, they’d take the source of it out with them. Gia would make kindling of this boy’s bones through stomps and swears and spit.

At least, they would have.

Hauled away before they sent the tip of steel toes smashing into the boy’s nose again, Gia fought against the pair of arms pinning their own to their side. They cursed at them and their owner. Struggled to grind their heels into his feet only for him to nimbly maneuver them away.

“Hey,” Floyd said as they tried— and failed— to rock their head back to catch him right on his teeth, “Hey. Knock it off, it’s over.”

It didn’t sound like this was taking much of an effort, which in turn only sent Gia into another round of thrashing and yelling. What this got them was a tighter squeeze around their diaphragm and a lift off the ground as their legs kicked at empty air.

They were screaming. And they kept screaming as there was a brief shift in balance…a stomach-drop instinct of falling back…followed by a pain shooting up their tailbone as they both dropped to the floor. This stopped the screaming.

“Ouch,” said Floyd flatly. He kept Gia sat between his outstretched legs. “You done?”

In a wheezing voice, Gia swore at him some more. They fought against his hold. When that got them nowhere, they thumped their back against him, weak and spent.

The fire puttered to smoke.

Gia slumped forward. The only reason they didn’t flop face-first into their knees was because Floyd still held onto them. So they stared at their lap, breath ragged, innards wanting to crawl up their throat. And there was something else. Something else was making its way out.

“Hm..?”

One long arm slipped out from around them, clamped a hand under their chin, and forced them to look up.

Gia shut their eyes in a final attempt at protest. Tears fell.

“Woah,” Floyd breathed.

Against their will, they blinked up at him. Floyd studied them, an expression settled prettily on his features. Curious… and something Gia was almost too scared to name. A merfolk trick, maybe, and idly Gia understood why sailors back in the day would risk finding out what it was.

“Aw, what’s the matter?” Floyd crooned, gently wiping his thumb under their eye. His skin felt cool on their cheek. It was terribly nice. “We got to the bottom of it, didn’t we, Shrimpy?”

Gia jerked away from him, the nickname a shock of ice water. Gia ground the heel of their palms into their eyes, pulled their knees to their chest, and curled into themself.

Floyd didn’t pin them again, but he continued, “C’mon. You knew going in you weren’t gonna get the money back.”

“I know.” Gia grit out. And they did know. The moment they realized the Ramshackle had been broken into they’d known. That’s not why they were here. What they wanted was payback.

But after the two weeks they’d spent tracking down the thief— somehow picking up one of the Leech brothers along the way— they hadn’t settled on what that would look like. Sure, the thought of getting in a jab or two crossed their mind, but when they’d cornered the culprit and Gia got a look at the mastermind who’d whisked away all their hard work…the thoughts evaporated.

It was just some Ignihyde kid. Small for a freshman. Gia actually felt bad. Floyd, on the other hand, was so bored with the reveal he circled into disgust. To top it off, Gia would still have to compensate for “dragging him along.” They didn’t even want his help in the first place.

But despite that blossoming headache, Gia couldn’t bring themself to raise hell. What was the point?

They’d been having dreams again. There was another shoe waiting to drop somewhere in Night Raven. And if that were the case, then they were going to have to focus their energy on keeping ahead of the curve. That was hard enough with the Corlux girls living in their dorm, but now with the boys bringing another wave of chaos under the guise of the “SDC Training Camp,” well…

In comparison, dealing with this kid didn’t feel worth the effort. So they thought.

Until Gia asked the sniveling snotball what he’d spent their money on. He’d barely gotten the word out when Gia’s fist slammed into his jaw with the force of a wrecking ball.

“Gacha...” They spat into their legs. “Gacha. Spent my money on stupid, 2D anime girls. Pictures he could look up for free.”

“Heard it’s a mega-popular title, too.” Floyd added unhelpfully. He played with their braid as he said so, Gia could feel him twist their hair between his fingers.

“But say…Shrimpy.” Floyd caught their eye from where he hovered over their shoulder. His chest was to their back again. “Here’s what I don’t get…”

He had that look on his face again. Interested. Intrigued.

“Why’re you so worked up about this?” He asked, “Don’t get me wrong, I’m not lettin’ anyone get away with taking something from me and I’m chargin’ ten-fold for tryin’. But I’ve never seen you blow up like that. Not when Jade and I kicked you outta Ramshackle or when Sea Snake sent us flying across the desert. This…”

Floyd pointed over his shoulder where the boy from Ignihyde lay sprawled on the ground, “This is small fry. Might as well be plankton. It wasn’t even that much money—”

“It’s all I had.” Gia said, hating the unsteadiness in their voice. They twisted around to face him.

“What’s it for?”

“It's…” They couldn’t figure how to reply to that. The best they could give him was a limp shrug. A shiver hit their spine and it came to mind how warm Floyd was now that they’d leaned away. They rubbed their arms. “I…I don’t know what’s going to happen to me.”

“What?” Floyd laughed, “Don’t tell me you’ve been mixing it up with loan sharks.”

Gia shook their head. “When Grim and I graduate…we can’t stay here. We need somewhere to go.”

A twitch of confusion crossed Floyd’s face. “Sealie’s a direbeast. He’s teeny, kinda stupid, and you prolly pampered the feral out of him, but you never really lose your survival instinct.” He looked down at Gia, “And aren’t you going home?”

Gia let out a snort, short and sour. With it that…thing that had wanted to come out earlier clung itself to the back of their throat— their words thick and heavy with the ache in their jaw. The memories of a ranch full of distant eyes and rotting apathy. “Home?”

The word was an ugly, wet noise they tried to smother under their hand. Heat rose to their face again, but nothing like the scorching rage from earlier.

Shame overtook them. Gia could feel Floyd’s eyes on them as they tried in vain to scrub away the tears. They just kept coming, hot and damning, overflowing like a boiling pot.

It was stupid. They were stupid. Crying over something they couldn’t change. Crying over scraps. This wasn’t fixing anything. This wasn’t getting them anywhere. They hadn’t cried once when they were sent away to their aunt’s house. They didn’t bother begging their parents to take them back home because they’d known they didn’t have one to go back to.

The concept was lost far before ever stepping into Twisted Wonderland and the only thing they could do was keep moving. Gia knew this.

They told themself this after each and every misstep. Every time something went wrong…when everything inevitably went wrong….

Gia needed to get as far away from Floyd as they could— maybe they couldn’t stop themself from absolutely losing it, but he was the last person allowed to see them do so. Except before they’d pushed themself off the ground, his arm circled around their shoulders and pulled them towards him.

Gia gave a sound somewhere between a hiccup and a gasp. On instinct they started to shove him back, but a second arm wrapped around their back and locked them in place.

Floyd held them against his chest and…no. He was hugging them to his chest.

“I think…” He started in a slow, pensive voice, his hand moving to pet the back of their head. “I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”

Gia kept still, their forehead pressed against the spot beneath his collarbone. They were aware of many things at that moment.

A deep amber trace of cologne, tear stains gradually spreading through the fabric of Floyd’s shirt, the shakiness in their hands, and how his strong, steady heartbeat only made theirs beat a faster jig against their rib cage.

“Did you know lobsters never stop growing?” Floyd asked.

“…What…?”

“Lobsters.” He repeated, “They keep growing throughout their lifetime until eventually they get so old and tired, they can’t molt out of their shell. That’s what kills them, y’see. They get stuck in their shell because it gets too hard for them to break and it gets so diseased and spoiled they just die in there.”

From their spot under his chin, Gia chanced a look at him. Floyd was still stroking the back of their head. They were crying in the arms of a merman with a sudden interest in shellfish. Behind them still lay the unconscious Ignihyde boy they’d tried to beat to death not five minutes ago. It occurred to Gia that surreal couldn’t possibly begin to describe what was going on right now.

“…Am I the lobster or something..?”

Floyd shrugged as if admitting pep talks were painfully not his thing, “Lobsters, shrimps. Both decapods.” He pressed his hand down on their head, guiding them back to him. It made them feel small.

They didn’t fight as he shifted their legs over his thigh and closer to him.

“Point is…You’re a tough little shrimp and you like it that way, but this shell's too old for you now. You’ll smother yourself if you don’t break out sooner or later.”

Gia knew a thing or two about lobsters, too. Lobsters didn’t come out of their old shells with a new one intact. A recently molten lobster was soft, tender— and highly vulnerable to a watchful predator.

They were all but giving Floyd the go-ahead to sink his teeth when he already had them in his jaws. Whatever he was looking at them with, it wasn't concern. His eyes were not soft. His were sharp, hunting eyes.

“Why are you doing this, Floyd?” Gia heard themself ask. The answer wouldn’t matter. Their arms were already around his neck.

“It's your lucky day, Shrimpy. Think of it as grace from the benevolence of the Sea Witch.” He chuckled as he curled himself around him, resting his chin on their shoulder. “And I’m in the mood to carry it through.”

“Ha.” Gia guessed it meant to be a laugh, but it was brittle and fragile and cracked and soon— nothing more than a cascade of sobs.

—

Humming.

Somewhere along the line, between where Gia’s cries waned into a silent weeping, Floyd started humming. He cradled them, though accurately speaking it was more that he had them propped against him.

So Gia stared out into a place far beyond where they lay wilted in his arms as his melody moved through them. A comforting, lulling sweetness he carried achingly well. They’d never heard it before, but in its notes they caught a timbre of nostalgia.

It was only through sheer luck— or maybe the unfortunate fact that Gia’s body was too-well trained against the notion of sleep— that they caught themself nodding off with a jolt.

“Floyd.”

He replied with another hum. Low with an undercurrent of disappointment.

To call it a glare would’ve been giving it too much credit, but whatever it was Gia did their best to fix it on him, “What is that?”

Floyd dipped back into his song long enough for Gia to think he chose to ignore them before saying, “You don’t like it?” Gia hadn’t noticed he was gently rocking them until he stopped to return their gaze. He knew the answer and let it show, smug as ever.

“Mama used to sing it to me and Jade as kids when we got upset.” He said, “It sounds way better underwater. You should come listen to it. I’d be happy to sing it for you again…if I feel like it then, anyway.”

“Right.” Against every fiber in the shriveled husk of their being, Gia sat up. “You enjoyed this way too much.”

“Listening to you cry?” Floyd laughed, “No. Not really.”

Gia thought about lobsters again. Soft ones. They closed their eyes and took a deep breath. The air was cool coming in. Colder coming out. When Gia opened them, they set their sights directly into his eye. The golden right one. “I’m paying you back. How?”

What they got was a low whistle, “Back on it again, huh? You’re a regular ice maiden.” Floyd giggled as he swiped a knuckle over their cheek, “Even if you’re still a bit leaky.”

Gia didn’t look away from him. “Unless it’s for free,” they pressed.

“Eh-heh! You wish.” A pause. Then, “A month.”

He clamped his hand down on their head and roughly ruffled their hair, which did nothing to soothe the throbs assaulting Gia’s temples. Floyd looked hungry with the moonlight caught in his teeth, “You do as I say for a month and I say: You're workin’ at the Lounge.”

Gia expected an anemone to sprout from where Floyd removed his hand. It didn’t, but their headache morphed into a full-on migraine. A month at the Lounge.

They felt a twitch at the corner of their lip and huffed, dropping their focus towards the ground between their legs.

There it was. The puncture of teeth. They had to hand it to him— the guy knew an easy catch when he saw one. And this one did him the added favor of shucking itself for him. A soft little lobster, indeed.

Gia wanted to get angry. They couldn’t. Crying, as it turned out, was dangerously exhausting.

Had Floyd considered that, too?

“Got stuff going on with the SDC. Make room for me to deal with that first or take it up with Vil and Crowley.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Floyd sighed, stretching long and towards the sky. Satisfied with the pops he elicited, he leaned back on his elbows. His eyes fluttered closed, content to bask in the starlight. That was easy.

Gia guessed it made sense for a hunter to know their place on the food chain.

They reached into their pants pocket for their phone. It hadn’t rung, so it was safe to say no one noticed they’d snuck out of their own dorm yet. Grim probably still snoring away in bed. It was past two in the morning.

Gia turned to look at the Ignihyde boy. Blood poured down his nose, now pointing at a new angle. They watched for a few seconds until they were sure of the rise and fall of his chest. Something that should’ve been done earlier, but better late than never or whatever. They weren’t angry at him. Not anymore. Still, Gia wasn’t inclined to care much either.

You never learn.

Whether it was their own voice or their mother’s, they couldn’t tell. Regret didn’t sound all that different between them.

Gia stood, giving a few stretches of their own as they ran through what to do with the guy. Fights weren’t anything recent and though Gia knew Crowley turned a blind eye to them handling their problems in however way they saw fit, this…might be overstepping.

This wasn’t a fight for their life when someone hit overblot or a simple scuffle with some jackass. This was, plainly put, an outright murder attempt. They didn’t care about the boy, but this definitely would be grounds for expulsion, right?

You never learn.

They stared at the sack of bones, three-fourths considering turning one of the rooms at Ramshackle into a makeshift dungeon when Floyd interrupted the thought.

“Leave’im.”

Gia glanced at him, expecting Floyd to be looking at them, but his eyes were still closed. “There?”

He nodded lazily then said, “I’ll take him to Octavinelle, no problemo.”

A wave of throbbing around their skull. Oh, great. Another debt. “I’ll figure it out.”

At this, Floyd frowned and peeked up at them through a single eye. His green one. “We made a deal. I’m taking a month.”

Gia blinked. “That was…I thought that was for—” For what? Was he talking about finding the boy? Was body disposal included? They gestured at the general area of their meltdown.

“Noooo. That’s for the minnow over there.”

“…Then what about…?” Gia pointed at the wet stains on his shirt.

Methodically, Floyd made his way onto his feet. “I told you.” He said as he stood to full height, “I was in the mood. You’re not taking my kindness for granted, are ya?”

Gia felt wrung out, they were too tired to fight him on their sentence at the Lounge— but they couldn’t leave him with a loose end to tie their noose with. They’d messed up too much already. Gia stood their ground. “Running a charity now?”

Though he smiled, a shadow crossed over Floyd, his right eye glowing sharper.

“Alright,” He reached out to flick one of the stubborn strands of hair sticking out from the top of Gia’s head. “You’re too fun to let you go out all ‘woe is me.’ Doesn’t suit you. You still gotta looooong way to go before your time’s up.”

Blackmail. Gia thought. Blackmail for sure.

He breezed by them, stalking towards the not-corpse, “Don’t let me down, okay?”

Gia watched as he considered the boy on the ground for a moment. Then without a trace of effort, haul him up by his shirt before throwing him on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. For a beanpole, the dude was wickedly strong.

Gia’s arms rose to hug themself as if with a mind of their own. It wasn’t the same. They turned on their heel and returned to Ramshackle Dorm.

—

tag list: @cyanide-latte @inmateofthemind @simons-twsted-children @tixdixl @blithesharem @thehollowwriter

@jovieinramshackle @theleechyskrunkly @skriblee-ksk @boopshoops @the-trinket-witch (lmk if you wanna be added)

[asunsetgrace16]

Evening Kisses⎪ CB98

Pairing: Connor Bedard x fem!reader

Summary: After a long, hard practice, Connor comes home to his girlfriend and a classic makeout on the couch

Warnings: Swearing, kissing, Connor giving reader hickeys, technically underage drinking since it’s set in Chicago

Notes: This is my first fic ever, so please go easy on me. I am really proud of this, since so often I write something and think it is horrible, so this is a big step for me. Based off of one of the headcanons, so this one is "secretly loves to give you hickies but always makes sure they will be covered by clothes"

masterlist⎥ navigation

Word Count: 1.1k

Connor unlocks the door with a sigh. Practice was rough and the weather has turned to shit. He toes off his shoes as the scent of onions and garlic meet his nose. A smile creeps onto his cloudy face when he thinks about the person behind the mouth-watering food. The one who sees Connor in a way nobody else can. The one who knows him. 

He grins –fully this time– when he hears the music playing softly in the background. You can take a girl out of the country, but not the country out of the girl.

“Y/N, baby, I’m home”, he calls out, hanging his coat up and grabbing his phone.

“In the kitchen” she replies just as he walks in, “How was practice?”

“Rough. Harder than normal. Defense was put through the wringer, after that last game, and Richardson made us do sprints. We have got to get our shit together. A few guys were a little green by the end. Is there anything you need help with?”

“Just grab the wine out of the fridge. I had Janelle pick it up for me.Oh, grab the salad too. Greek tonight”

Connor heads around the island to the fridge, first stopping at the stove and wrapping his arms around his girlfriend. She relaxes into him, leaning her head back on his shoulder as his temple meets hers. They stand like that, eyes closed and relishing in the feeling of each other, finally. They sway gently to the beat of the music, a classic country love ballad that is one of Y/N's favourites. Y/N’s fingertips danced along his forearms before linking their fingers. 

“I fucking hate long distance. Maybe I should try and transfer to school here”, Y/N says quietly, feeling tears well in her eyes.​​

Connor chokes up at her words, inhaling a shaky breath before he speaks. This topic is one that was discussed hundreds of times while Y/N was applying to school. They both knew it would be hard, but as they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder. 

Hearing the tears in her voice, Connor swallows the lump in his throat and replies, “I know, baby, I know it sucks. I hate it too. I wish you were here more, and that I had more time to come up to you. But we can do this, let’s not take a moment we have together for granted.”

She turns in his arms, giving him a proper hug, holding each other close. He kisses her head, then kisses her lips tenderly. Y/N rests her head on his chest and feels the low thud of his heart. Connor drops a kiss to her shoulder and moves to get the wine and salad and the pasta is dished up. They discuss the happenings of the day over dinner, the momentary sadness over being apart evaporates. Connor shares animated stories of the Foligno kids and the better parts of practice. Both Connor and Y/N are wearing equally large smiles with love in their eyes. Their combined efforts have the dishes done, leftovers put away, and kitchen cleaned in record time. 

Y/N pours a second glass of wine for the two of them and she settles on the couch, tucked into Connor’s side with his arm around her shoulders. He turns on the TV, Modern Family playing quietly as they sit in comfortable silence. Connor’s hand runs down her arm, landing low on her hip. Her hand sits in his thigh, thumb slowly rubbing back and forth. Y/N breathes deeply, inhaling the fresh scent of the soap from Connor’s after practice shower and his spicy cologne that lingers on his shirt, feeling drowsy and safe and warm. She tips her head up at him, meeting his eyes. He has a gentle smile on his face, bringing his hand to cup her cheek. Connor strokes her cheek with his thumb before tracing the line of her jaw, his eyes taking in her face, committing every detail to memory. The colour of her eyes, freckles on her cheeks, her full bottom lip. 

His thumb catches on her lip, gently tugging it open before letting it go. He dips his head to hers, their lips meeting in a chaste kiss. Connor pulls back, but Y/N slides her hand around the back of his neck and brings their lips together again. This time deeper, more intense. She pushes up into a sitting position, her other hand finding Connor’s shoulder.

He grips her hip, holding her close and steady, other hand still on her cheek. He lets his tongue press against her lips, and she opens willingly. As they sink into the kiss, Connor grabs her behind her knee and pulls her to straddle his lap. The moment is all overlapping breaths and rushed inhales, searching hands and pure love. Both of Connor’s hands are on her hips now, slipping lower to grab her ass through her jeans. Y/N’s hand threads through his hair before tangling in his grown-out curls at the nape of his neck. Heavy breaths and light moans filter through the room when Connor kisses down Y/N’s neck, dragging his tongue over her jaw. His hands slide under her shirt, wandering over her bare back. He pulls her closer by a belt loop.

He peels her shirt off, and she returns the favour. Y/N tips her head back as Connor moves down her neck and along her collarbone, sliding her bra straps down. She lets out a breathy moan and moves to clutch his shoulders, she feels the firm muscles move and ripple under his warm skin. He pauses, nipping and sucking at her skin. The air is warm in the apartment, thick with tension. His hands sit firmly on her hips. Once Connor is satisfied with the mark he left, he moves a little lower, repeating the process again, and again. 

It's a good thing it is winter, once Connor is done and moves to kiss her lips again. Y/N winces a little when his fingers brush the new bruises.

"I'm sorry baby." he whispers against her mouth.

She simply smiles and says back to him, "No, you're not, and neither am I. I love it just as much as you do."

This closeness, the intimacy of the moment is something the two cherish when they are apart. Connor pulls Y/N into his chest, holding her close. He draws shapes lightly along the bare expanse of her back, goosebumps rising in their wake. Her hands find hair, playing with the ends. Their foreheads rest against each other, eyes closed and arms wrapped around each other. Contentment and drowsiness replace hurried desire.

Connor stands, setting Y/N on her feet. Offering her his hand, he says, "Come on love, let's get to bed."

[thatanimeramenchick]

I just thought of somethin(I’m sorry if I’m spamming or anything. I’ve got ADHD so my brain is constantly making ideas that I have to share. I do not wish to overwhelm you)

What about a Yandere Lucifer(Hazbin) with a immortal human reader? They were cursed from a young age with immortality because of a mistake there mother made. They can die but don’t really stay dead. Every time they die they get a scar so there covered with them both large and small. They go to university but was supposed to be sacrificed by a cult to Lucifer but obviously survived but now there stuck with Lucifer always being around?

Yandere Lucifer x Human Sacrifice Reader Pt. 1

You’re fine! Definitely not spamming. I just might take some time before I get to writing it. Lucifer has me in a choke hold, but so does Vox. I also wanted to do this idea justice, as it actually has a lot of potential, so it took me a little while before I finally felt like it sounded kind of decent. Also it was getting long, so going to be a two parter.

Part Two

Trigger Warning: Graphic Violence

Word Count: 2,431

---

You first realized something was wrong when you were twelve.

It was a warm August afternoon, perfect for a day on the lake. Only a week left before school, your extended family was having a last little hurrah camping trip. Water brushed against your shoulders as you waded through the water, looking for small fish and crawdads. Your cousins were on the shore, half asleep as they rested from swimming.

“Kids! It’s time for lunch!” you heard your Aunt’s voice fill the air.

Eager for food, like any other over-exhausted child, you turn quickly on the slick rocks, ready to run inside.

“Wait for me!” you cry out, taking no care in how fast you were moving.

And down you went. Your slipped right out from under you and sent you crashing beneath the waves. A roar filled your ears as your body ripped through the water and sent your head against the stone ground. Along with the cold water, you felt a hot liquid bubbling from the crown of your head.

Whether from shock or pain, you were unable to swim. You thrashed and attempted to scream, only letting more water into your throat. Surely someone had heard you falling and would come to save you, right? There was no way they hadn’t heard you.

Yet as seconds passed, you started to think that maybe no one had heard you. Every passing moment felt like an eternity as you were unable to hold your breath and water choked down your throat.

You swore that you felt your lungs literally ripping apart, splitting at the seams in a pain that was so intense you felt like you would black out. You suddenly knew what it was like to be the balloons you and your cousins had blown up with a little too much air and watched pop into a million pieces.

The oxygen must finally have evaporated from the combination of fluid filling your lungs and blood leaving your body. This was it.

You were going into the arms of the angels.

---

To this day, beneath your hair, was the large scar from “the incident” as your family referred to it.

Well, when they referred to it at all, which was almost never.

All you had remember was awakening in the hospital, gasps, tears, and even a scream filling the air as you sat up.

“I-impossible!” your aunt had said, gazing in shock at you, “She was… She had to be….”

“I told you, the doctors had made a mistake,” your mother had said calmly. She had been sitting beside you, squeezing your hand. Though her words were soft and controlled, there were tears on the edges of her eyes.

Your cousins started crying as well, coming forward, looking just as stunned. The only one who had seemed unsurprised was your mother, who held your hand in a death grip.

That day lived in infamy in your mind. Though nothing had ever been explained, small snippets from conversations you hadn’t been meant to overhear had formed an image of what had happened.

Finally, it had been noticed that you were not there, and your eldest cousin had been the horrified witness to your body in the lake, water red from the massive loss of blood. Though they had called the ambulance, it was clear to everyone that you had died before they had even got there.

Or so they had thought.

You had been laid in the hospital, check on, with no pulse or breath in you. Your family had been in the room crowding around you, all saying final goodbyes. All except your mother, who had simply grabbed onto your hand and insisted that you weren’t dead. The doctor had made a mistake, you would be fine. Naturally, your Aunt and Uncle thought that your mother was simply confused after the traumatic experience.

But you had woken up. Suddenly, something had changed. The machines detected life, and you had taken a gasping breath before groggily opening your eyes.

The nurses and doctors had seem just as spooked as your extended family, but once it was determined that somehow you had survived and your lungs were intact, they let you go. Someone must have made some kind of mistake at some point.

There had been no explanation, logical or otherwise for your salvation. Your mother said that you must be under divine protection, and you had accepted the answer, as much as you weren’t really convinced of it. Convinced or not, you were alive, and you supposed that was what mattered.

That had been nine years ago. It was something you rarely thought about anymore, though recently, you had been wondering about it. The whole thing was weird, and your studies in medical school only made it weirder.

You didn’t have time to think about it these days though. You were short on two things, money and time. Which is why you were now looking at the posters hung in the cafeteria for an opportunity to make some quick cash.

You had some cash flow from your repeated donations of plasma and blood cells, as well as the occasional babysitting gig in between studies. You needed more though, and the flier you were looking at was promising a lot of pay if you went to this interview and were accepted as a participant for an experiment that some seniors were doing. So many of you had participated in a couple of experiments for professors and students to earn a buck here and there. You could do it again. You ignored the vague wording, thinking that it was probably some experimentation that involved the subjects being in the dark.

So now, you were sitting on a park bench with the interviewer for the program, being drilled harder than if you had stayed out all night as a teenager.

“Do drugs, smoke, alcohol?” the interviewer asked.

“No,” you said.

“All right,” she said, "And... we'll need to know you're relationship history as well. Any boyfriends, girlfriends?”

“I had one boyfriend in high school,” you said, "Been too busy last few years though.”

“Just one boyfriend... Ok, and any hookups?” she asked.

“Excuse me?”

“Like, you know, bar or party hookups. Casual sex.”

“I-I- Uh... No,” you said.

“So you're a virgin?” she asked.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t see how this is relevant,” you said, feeling uncomfortable.

“It’s necessary information for dividing the groups in our experiment,” she said, “Your personal name isn’t going to be connected to any of this. But we need to know as much personal information as possible if you want us to consider you for this. We need to know our subjects on a deep level.”

You sigh in irritation, “Fine, whatever. Yes, I am.”

“Ok,” she said, scribbling something down.

After a few more minutes of interrogation, she stood up.

“All right then, I think I have everything I need to know. We will be in touch if you pass all right? If you do, you'll be contacted on the meeting place for the experimentation,” she said.

---

A week later, you had gotten a call back from the same interviewer, saying you had passed initial testing. They assigned a day for you to show up at the lab. After you had arrived on the appointed day and signed some wavers, they took you aside and gave you some medication, saying they were conducting a test on REM sleep in three sessions. The first two had gone typically, and you had awoken, mind numb and fuzzy after the sessions. But something was different when you woke up the third time. You weren't in the lab.

You awoke, foggy eyed, your mind still grainy. The room was freezing, even more so than the normally cool temperature it was kept at. In a few seconds, you realized you weren't in the lab at all or likely the university. Your surroundings were totally alien as you realized where you were and who you were with.

You were looking up at a circle of men and women in black and red cloaks. A sickening smell of incense fills the air, and you feel something right digging into your wrists and ankles. In moments, you realize you have been tied down to a stone altar, somewhere dark and damp, like a cave or temple. Directly over you stands a middle aged man, holding a knife.

“She’s perfect,” he said, “A beautiful young virgin. Not tainted in any way, in good health. The ideal sacrificial lamb.”

The day of the incident was swarming back into your mind as you now struggled against the rope tying you own, as futile as you had felt slapping against the water. You couldn’t even attempt to scream, a cloth was shoved so far down your throat, the scent of whatever chemical they had dipped in it making it burn. Part of you wondered if you would vomit and repeatedly suffocate before he could even stab you.

“Oh Lucifer, we call upon you to accept this sacrifice,” the man called out, raising the knife, “May you be pleased with this offering, and in exchange bless our work. May we be more prosperous and rich than any others! We bow down to you!”

With his final words, he sliced the knife into your chest, so fast and swift that you didn’t feel it at first. It was as subtle as a breeze rushing past your cheek or hearing a whisper in the hallway. Small as it was though, you couldn’t deny that it was there. Within a split second, as he ripped the knife out, you felt some of that pain materializing. A muffled scream is silenced, and you feel the cloth sink deeper into your throat, choking you. Even if your mouth can not let out a sound, the surrounding flesh is painful enough that it feels like it is screaming in silent agony.

He continues to stab at you. The pain worsens as he tries to push the knife deep into your heart, but manages to instead stab into your ribs multiple times. Each removal of the knife releases a fountain of blood. Warm, fast, sleek streams bathe your skin and clothes as he drives the knife through you over and over again, without mercy. Penetrating, forceful, as if you were being violated in the worst possible way. The physical pain of the experience is nothing compared to the mental anguish of helplessness and terror you feel.

Finally, mercifully a few cuts sink between you ribs and pierce your heart. Within minutes, your world begins fading to black.

This is it. Finally.

At least that was what you hoped. No more pain, only peace.

---

Hell was real.

You hadn’t died, but you didn’t need to for you to experience a pure torment worse than death. Some twisted miracle, curse, whatever the hell it was, had saved you. You awoke who knows how long after the attack, alone and still strapped to the stone altar. You couldn’t lift your head, it roared with pain. The pure torture of regenerating, something you hadn’t felt in years. Your body burned and itched as it restitched itself back together, slowly. The process of regeneration was in some ways more gruesome than the actual attack had been. Every inch of your chest felt like it was on fire.

The cloth was still stuck deep in your throat, making it impossible to call for help, but part of you knew that even if you could have it probably wouldn’t attract attention from anyone you would want. Your only fear was that it would remain stuck in your throat for ages. The image of it resting there until your spit somehow dissolved it and allowed for you to breathe normally haunted you, as well as the image that you might die from an infection or suffocation like this a couple of times before that happens.

Your mind was so focused on this that you didn’t notice the glowing light walking around you. Sight fuzzy, you winced as the light fully entered your focus and before you stood a man, radiating light from his crimson and white body. Wings on display, emanating from his back. No further details could be caught though, as you were in too much pain to really pay attention. Despite this though, you had no doubt who this was.

Lucifer.

You were surprised. Always, your imagination had painted the devil as a creature of darkness. Even if he wasn’t a red horned creature, you had expected a creature that radiated evil and smoke. Yet Lucifer stood before you with an almost ethereal glow about him. While there was a certain flame about him, it burned with a cool, almost glorious light.

Well, you had heard someone once say that the devil portrayed himself as a creature of light. Perhaps the brightness of his form should not surprise you. A mask of goodness over his true evil intent. He leans over you, gazing at your half-alive form.

Finally, the devil reaches over to your face, gazing at you with a look that you decide must be curiosity. There is no way that it contains the pity that your mind at first thinks it glimpses. If this is the devil that the group worshiped, then there was no way any sympathy could be found in his eyes. He lowered his hand to your face, causing you to flinch, the pain exploding at your brief movement. Instead of the expected violence though, he caresses your cheek with tenderness.

“Poor little thing. Humans are such fools,” he murmurs, “The way they treat their own is downright atrocious.”

While you would push his touch away if you could, you find it impossible. The pain is too great to bother defying him. It is nothing compared to the torture your body goes through though when he lifts you into his arms. Chipped bones feel as if they are shifting through your sliced muscle and ripped flesh. You feel more blood flowing out of your body, like the lake sand would flow between the cracks in your fingers as a child. Even though you are unable to scream, you must have at least attempted to make some kind of noise as the demon holding you makes an effort to soothe you.

“Sh… It’s all right now,” you heard, “You’re going to be just fine. There’s no need to be afraid.”

It was the last thing you heard before pain consumed your mind and took you from consciousness.

[soleilars]

hihii can you do a leo valdez x demeter!reader where he wants reader to teach him how to garden without burning the plants pls 🙏🙏

I ONCE WAS POISON IVY BUT NOW I’M YOUR DAISY

summary: based on this request <3

paring: leo valdez x demeter!reader

a/n: this is so cute I can’t🥹🥹 I hope this is not to short tbh also I’m sorry if it is

the moment you and leo became friends his presence in your cabin became as common as yours. most of your half-siblings already knew he was the one on the door by the way he knocked, so it was no surprise that when you two had your first date together they didn’t even thought twice before letting him come in.

that was when the incident happened.

he was just wondering around your cabin when your eyes met his and he had to stop in his tracks to catch his breath. you were just so stunning he couldn’t help the nervous sparks leaving his finger tips. he also didn’t realised how almost every single surface in cabin 4 had a plant in it and accidentally proceeded to ignite the one of the many plants in there.

you were lucky enough one of your siblings had a water bottle when this happened or the damage would be much more severe than just a few leafs.

he got banned from your cabin soon after.

his favourite part though was to act like he was offended every time someone slightly mentioned this event around him. he would pull out the most dramatic shit out of nowhere and people would be just🧍‍♂️sorryman

however, somewhere along the way he really started to get upset about people not trusting him around their plants. it wasn’t like he was going to burn them on purpose.

it’s not that you didn’t trusted him. you actually were one of the few people who didn’t get immediately anxious or nervous when he came near your diversity of botanical species, yet he could sense something was off. that’s why bunker 9 had earth jars and seeds everywhere.

“please, please, please teach me your magic tricks”

“you mean gardening?”

you two had been doing this for 3 hours. leo had been making actual progress by now. you two discovered he could use cloves so the water in the watering can he was holding didn’t boil or evaporate. believe me when I say this was a huge accomplishment for the both of you

“that’s great, leo! now that you learned how to water your plants, how about I teach you how to get rid of weeds?”

“I have no idea what this is but you’ll need to give me some comforting kisses by now. really, who made gardening so stressing? I feel like I could combust right now”

“you what-“

“relax, I’m only kidding. but I’d still like those kisses to be honest”

[bitchimasnake-sss]

tumblr au ft. the strawhats! (/some cameos)

basically what if the strawhats had tumblr?? hehe no. but what if?

🍖thepiratekingxdd

YOU GUYS WONT BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENED TODAY. SO, SANJI GOT THIS MICROWAVE FOR US RIGTH? AND SO, I PUT A GLASS FULL OF WATER IN THE MICROWAEV AND AFTER A MINUTE IT WAS GONE!! THE GLASS WAS EMTY WAS IT STUCK TO THE ROOF? EVAPORTATED?? WITCHCRAFT??? WHO KNOWS

♻️🦐sanjissscokbook Follow

for the last time, YOU FORGOT TO PUT THE WATER IN THE MUG. NOTHING HAPPENED! FOR THE LAST TIME IT WASN'T WITCHCRAFT.

#and who taught you fucking evaporated?? #was it nami-swan? #she's the cutest #strawhat pirates

723 notes

⚔oni-giri Follow

ive witnessed many horrors of the world but one of my most jarring experiences of being alive is the fact that today, sanji actually managed to get a date 🤢😀

♻️🍊namitheexplorer Follow

and why are you jealous??? homo.

#just date already ffs #tired of this homoerotic tension everyday

12,344 notes

🐾tonytonychopper Follow

Can you stop being so dramatic bro. Look around bro and appreciate the beauty of the world bro. Youre bumming everybody out bro.

85,231 notes

🤠notnicorobin Follow

Does anyone have any tips for new mothers? I'm just twenty-eight and have made the decision to adopt six kids all at once. Any help will be appreciated!

♻️⚔oni-giri Follow

you have kids???

♻️⚔oni-giri Follow

wait are you talking about us???

45 notes

👃🏾godussop Follow

you know if i wanted to, i could be the centre of attention at your stupid party by telling everyone my cool ass advertures but i dont because im nice

♻️😎godussopfanclub Follow

SO RIGHT GOD USSOP!! PREACH

#godussop

8,821 notes

🍊namitheexplorer Follow

being a lesbian is cool because some days, i just wanna run my fingers through her hair and smile at her fondly as we lie in the shade of the trees. on other days, i wanna wear her blood in a necklace around my neck and be buried with her so that when the archaeologists dig us up, they think we were one.

♻️🔵viviofalabasta Follow

If you missed me you could have just texted me babe.

♻️🍊namitheexplorer Follow

no, i need your blood.

♻️🤠notnicorobin Follow

As an archaeologist, i approve. It'll be so funny for the future archaeologists.

#namivivi

112k notes

🔥whitebeardsillegitimateson Follow

ofcourse it's kinda hard being the hottest, smartest, kindest, sexiest, most baby-girl big brother in the world, but someone has to do it. sorry what was your question again?

♻️🍖thepiratekingxdd

my question was when are you gonna come play with me and chopper?

♻️🔥whitebeardsillegitimateson Follow

luffy, i am a busy, busy man. i don't even know when i will be fr- i'll come by 7.

281 notes

a/n: this was so fun to make!!! i cannot wait to make one more part to it lol

[quodekash]

yeah so im gonna make my silly little commentary posts for we are sometimes but not all the time

he stared at his friend's water and started smiling like a fucking idiot 💀

h2o just makes him giddy like that 🥰

also I genuinely fucking adore Pham and Fang's dynamic, they care about each other so much (I might cry)

I JSUT FUCKING LOVE HIM SO MUCH CAN YOU BLAME ME

im sorry, i cant get over the fact that q fuCKING SANG SOUND’S SONG FROM MSP IN THE THIRD FUCKING EPISODE OF THE SHOW

HES JUST SO SMOL I FUCKING ADORE HIM SO MUCH DUDE

here to pick up his twink

HES JUST SO SMOL THO LIKE CAN YOU BLAME ME???

I JUST WANNA RUFFLE HIS HAIR AND PINCH HIS CHEEKS HES SO FUCKING ADORABLE

i think i just really love satang cos during msp every time sound was on screen i lost my shit and now every time toey is on screen i lose my shit

btw i fully had to rewatch that entire scene, i was entirely focusing on satang’s little adorable fuckin face that i forgot to read and process the dialogue lmao

his expression is like “did you bring me here to do your chores, or are you gonna be honest and just say you want to makeout"

the real answer is just that he wants to spend time with him btu doesnt know how to do that normally 💀

(and also that he wants to make out with him)

WHY IS EVERYONE SO FUCKING SMOL TODAY

HES TINY

HES THIS BIG 🤏

OML IT HAPPENED FOR LESS THAN HALF A SECOND BUT I PAUSED IT AT THE EXACT PERFECT MOMENT

I genuinely adore accidental kiss tropes in bls, its just so unrealistic its fucking amazing

[insert image of phum's friends walking in here (I had to delete some of my screenshots because I can only do 30 and I dont want to do more than one post for this)]

AND THEN HIS FRIENDS WALK IN, CLASSIC

it's so awkward and I am LIVING for it

people in bls always walk in at the WORST possible moments and its AMAZING

THIS WHOLE SITUATION IS SO RIDICULOUSLY FUNNY TO ME

phuwin’s character trying to cook is so me

and also my sister, one time she was making spaghetti bolognese for us for dinner and she put way too much salt, and then to attempt to solve the problem, she put water into the pan to "evaporate the salt" 💀

the best part is I didnt even realise why that wouldnt work until my brother started laughing

anyway, back to the ep

WHAT DRUGS ARE IN THIS EPISODE TO MAKE EVERY SINGLE FUCKING CHARACTER SO BABYGIRL

THEYRE ALL SO SMOL AND ADORABLE AND BBG WHAT IS GOING ON

HES SO TINY

Youre fucking KIDDING

IM SO SUDDENLY INVESTED IN THIS MAIN COUPLE

THAT WAS SUCH A SUDDEN SWITCH BRO

literally last week I was like "yeah okay I like it" and then suddenly im on the verge of tears when they make physical contact???

[insert image of pun eating]

PUN !

MY LITTLE GUY

I ADORE THEMMMMM

oh fuck yes I love this friendship already and it just started

AND CHAIN'S GETTING JEALOUSSSSS FUCK YEAH

they look like tired dads fr

is phuwin just fuckin short or is pond like 3 metres tall cos holy shit

LOOK AT HIM

SMOL BITCHES

EVERYONE'S FUCKING TINY TODAY

woah he really just went for it there

HOLY FUCK HE SAID YES

TAN IS LOSING IT HES SO HAPPY I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

great frame

[insert that entire scene with the jump onto him and the holding hands and the FUCKING CHEEK KISS]

HES MY LITTLE FUCKING GUY

HES SO NEURODIVERGENT AND I ADORE HIM

KICKING AND SCREAMING MY FEET RN

he's jealoussssssss

I love pun so much, I truly would die for him

Welcome back to another episode of Toey Thinks Peem And Phum Are Dating (And He’s Right)

Im gonna be completely honest, if pond looked at me like that, id probably do whatever he tells me to without a second thought

thats all im saying

LOOK AT THAT LITTLE FACE

HES SINGING THE FUCKING ABAAB SONG

IM CRYING DUDE THIS IS AMAZING

ARE THEY JUST GONNA SING SONGS FROM OTHER BLS FOR THE QHOLE SERIES? IM FUCKIN DOWN FOR THAT DUDE

this song is so out of winny’s range tho 💀

so fucking SMOL

also chains hand just always naturally rests on pun’s shoulder

literally all the time

what im saying here is I think they should kiss

HE DIDNT JUST GRAB HIS WRIST HERE HE GRABBED HIS HAND ERIJKGBNREJB HOLY SHIT

Cool! 👍

im glad they finally got there

FUCK YES NEXT EPISODE WE'RE GETTING THE SCENE FROM THE PILOT THAT MADE ME LOSE MY SHIT

PUNCHAIN FOREHEAD KISS AND QTOEY CHEEK KISS BITCHES

okay now I just have one final question before I take my leave: what the FUCK was the song playing in the background of the qtoey scene near the end of the episode

it was just electric guitar and I KNOW recognise it but I cant figure out what fucking song it was (literally I finished the episode at like 1:30 but didnt go to sleep til 3 because I was trying to find the song)

so please, if ANYONE recognises it and knows what it is, tell me as soon as you can cos Im fucking dying

update: a moot is pretty sure the song played over other qtoey scenes earlier in the show (the same way msp did with noelm) so now im fuckin PSYCHED for the new song that’s gonna come out eventually

[heygerald]

Falling Without A Harness - Chapter 9

AU where Tom Ryder is still an asshole, just not a psychotic one. When Parker joins Colt on set, things between the siblings gets argumentative. How hard will she try to convince everyone of something only she seems to see?

Read the story here: prev / next

Parker was dying.

Well, no, not really, but she was pretty sure that dying on the inside was the same kind of misery as dying on the outside—something Colt would wholeheartedly disagree with, but, whatever, he wasn't around to dispute such a wild claim—and as she failed at yet another attempt, she quite literally could feel her sanity evaporating like water on a hot summer day. It was ridiculous that the instructions were only five steps; even more ridiculous that there were high school art students who could do this with their eyes closed while gabbing about what the prettiest Met Gala dress of the year was and contemplating what the next Suzanne Collins' book would be.

"I think she should write more prequel books," said high school art student was blabbering on from the other side of the shelf, and while Parker's eyes went crossed and frustration welled like a heavy weight on her chest, Melissa didn't seem to notice as her train of thought continued on a cross-continental journey. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I will always love Katniss and Peeta's story, and hearing about their kids would be interesting, but there are seventy some years of Games that we haven't even heard about yet. That's so much material for her to write about!"

Parker glanced at the mess lying at her feet; tape and paint and abused shelf liner was sprawled around her as if a bomb had just gone off, and while Melissa continued on her fifth monologue of the hour, Parker almost wished one would.

"—did you see it? It was so good. Tom Blythe has to be my new celebrity crush. Right behind Tom Ryder, of course, but above Tyler Poser. Nothing against him personally, he just hasn't really done anything since Teen Wolf, you know? And—"

She was pretty sure black spots were dotting her vision, and when she attempted for a sixth time to smooth the bubbles out of her liner, Parker swore her head was going to implode.

How did one talk so much?

And more importantly—

"Jesus Christ!" she cried above the din of chatter. Melissa's voice cut off at the exclamation, but as she crossed one arm over the other—ruler clattering to the ground in frustration—the radio continued to play a steady stream of Taylor Swift and Katy Perry. "I'm so confused!"

A steady silence came from the adjacent aisle for half a moment.

"You... don't get the Hunger Games prequel? I thought you read it."

"Oh my fu—" she started, before cutting herself off. Melissa had gotten on her last week about having such foul language, and while Parker really didn't care about being a bad influence on the next generation, she did care about the stupid little jar sitting on the front counter that had collected half of her weekly coffee allowance in just three days. Pinching her nose, she swerved, "fudge, I don't get how you're doing this. I really don't."

"Doing—?"

"Not Suzzanne Collins," she snapped before Melissa could even go down that particular road. Honestly, the girl never stopped talking. "I understand that. I read those books before you were even born, kid."

"Okay, I'm not that young, and you're not old enough to be calling me kid," her voice floated above the shelves; judgmental and scornful all in one.

Parker pinched the bridge of her nose, only for some wayward tape to get stuck to her cheek, and as she ripped it off her skin with a groan, she considered sinking onto the cold floor for a nap.

Said floor was a mess of art supplies, however, and so she elected to tap her foot in an impatient staccato on the ground. Knowing there was only one thing left to do, Parker swallowed whatever pride still existed after this little art project. "...I don't understand how to put on the shelf liners," she admitted. "It doesn't make any sense, and I'm wasting material, and I'm—I'm going to set this place on fire if I have to keep doing this!"

A tut followed by Birkenstocks on hard wood before Melissa was popping around her side of the shelves. She looked too cute to be doing something misery-inducing like this—bubble braids over each shoulder, mascara and glittery white eyeshadow to balance out the glow of highlighter on her cheeks and nose, lips a soft bubblegum pink to compliment the pale color of her sweater—and Parker added it to the list of things that her employee did to annoy the shit out of her.

Teenagers were supposed to be pimply and awkward; when did the next generation start skipping that phase to jump right into cute outfits like that?

"What are you—?" she started, only to zero in on the absolute disaster that was Parker's attempts at interior design. The shelf liner was warbled and misshapen, cut too short on one side and too long on the other, and at her feet half a yard of wasted material lay sprawled. "Parker! Do you have any idea how expensive this stuff is?"

Parker blinked at her. "Do I—? Of course I do! I was the one that bought it in the first place!" she snarked incredulously.

"Then why are you wasting it?"

"Well—because—I'm not doing it on purpose!" she blustered.

Melissa clearly didn't seem to believe that if her raised brow was anything to go by. As if Parker had woken up that morning with the single goal in mind of making this process as difficult and expensive as possible.

Yeah, right.

Parker hadn't been stealing eggs and bread from her brother's when she visited just for the thrill of the grift.

"The instructions don't make any sense," she continued to defend herself; though, the fact that she needed to in the first place was ridiculous. It was her shop, afterall, and she was the owner. Oh, right. She was the owner. "I knew we shouldn't have done this. The paint and decorations look good enough. Why, oh why, did I let you talk me into doing shelf liners too? You know the books are just going to cover the pattern, right? No one will see them."

That seemed to upset Melissa, and in response, the teenager's entire face contorted into something righteous.

"Firstly," she said, flinging up a electric blue nail, "everyone will see them. The books are only so big, so the liner is still visible even when the shelf is full, and when people take books off the shelf it adds character to the store. And secondly," she continued, ticking another finger up into the air, "I've already finished three whole shelves in the time it's taken you to do half of one. Improperly, too. It's not impossible. You're just bad at it."

"Ugh!" Parker's mouth fell open. "Excuse me. I'm not bad at it."

"Could'a fooled me."

"You know," she snarked while planting her hands firmly onto her hips. Melissa didn't seem intimidated one bit, and she watched as the teenager gently pulled up her crumpled liner. "You're lucky I'm your boss because someone else might fire you for sass like that."

Melissa shot her a blithe look while dropping the ruined liner to the ground. Within seconds, she cut a new piece—perfectly sized—and calmly started lying it down. "Okay, sure, Park. Whatever you say."

"I could!"

"Uh-huh," the girl said again, clearly not buying into the power play for a second. Parker might have taken more offense to that if, well, Melissa wasn't right. She never had an employee before, but Parker didn't handle workplace confrontations well, and she couldn't imagine ever firing anyone. Let alone her best customer.

Still. She could at least pretend to be intimidated.

Before Parker could argue that point, Melissa stepped back from the shelf with a flourish to reveal a perfectly placed, smooth and colorful liner.

"Son of a..." Parker muttered at how easy she had made it look. Not to mention the fact that it did look really good. She could already picture how much character it would add once the shelves were re-stocked with their books. "How did you—?"

"It's honestly so easy. Like, I'm embarrassed for you."

And—yeah.

Parker was definitely dying.

"I liked you better when you only came in once a week," she announced, dropping the wasted paper into the trash bag. "You were a lot nicer then, at least. And you already gave me money instead of costing me heaps of it."

Unbothered, the teen popped her bubblegum with a shrug. "You were a lot cooler then, too."

"What—?" she cried, tracking around the shelf in Melissa's wake. The teenager seemed pretty pleased with herself, and as she giggled into her hand, Parker propped her shoulder against the wall with a glower. "Oh. Hardy-har-har. Hilarious. Let's all pick on Parker; that seems like a fun way to spend the day. How about this? You can finish this little project yourself since it was your idea in the first place."

That managed to wipe the smirk off of her face, and Melissa responded by stomping her foot. "This place is huge! There's no way I can finish this on my own."

"Please," Parker rolled her eyes, not buying that for a moment. "You've done six times as much as me in an hour, and better too. It's like you said—I suck at this."

"I didn't say you suck."

"Bad, suck, they're all the same insult. Are you regretting the sass now?"

Melissa scowled. "Fine. But I want to re-negotiate my salary."

That wiped whatever smug look Parker was wearing off her face in seconds, and as if this was a game of tug-o-war, the smugness transferred back to Melissa in the following seconds. So smug, in fact, that she started humming to herself as she set to work on the next line of shelves.

Shaking her head, Parker couldn't do anything but laugh. "Fat chance of that! You're already robbing me blind with the stupid swear jar. Besides, this whole thing was your idea; you wanted the job, and now you got the job. You don't get to re-negotiate your hourly pay when you've barely been here a month. That's not how employee contracts work."

"America as a late stage capitalistic society is failing and is not what you should be basing a business model on, but if that's how you want to play it, fine. This is a supply and demand market. There's nothing to say I can't negotiate my salary when my needs as an employee go up. Your demand has changed, ergo my supply for you has changed," she chirped, and not for the first time, Parker was wondering when teenagers became so socially aware. When she was Melissa's age, she babysat for five bucks an hour, and most of that was just spent making sure the kids didn't swallow their Gumby doll. Needs of an employee her ass. "Besides, we agreed on that salary when I thought I would have help doing the manual labor."

"You're awfully smart for someone that didn't read the fine print."

Melissa paused in her work to cross one arm over the other. And—fuck—how was she being intimidated by someone wearing a best friends forever necklace?

Saved by the tinkle of the front door bell, Parker broke off their stare down to give the girl a flippant gesture that would definitely not hold up in court as any sort of agreement, before moving towards the front. She didn't even care that they were closed, a customer was more than welcome at the moment. Even a neighborhood cat would do.

Melissa trailed after.

"All I'm saying is—" she started.

"Ah, ah, ah. No money talk in front of customers. It's totally kitsch," Parker chirped over her shoulder.

"It's Sunday. We shouldn't even have customers. Can't we just tell them to leave?"

"And they say good customer service is dead," said customer drawled from the front counter as he pilfered through her bowl of mints. Several clattered to the floor as he tried to dig out his favorite flavor, and with a wince, Parker watched him not-so-subtly nudged them under the counter with his shoe as if it hadn't happened at all. "Er, those were already down there when I got here."

"Ass," she rolled her eyes, bending over to scoop the mints up before mice decided to add themselves onto the list of things she had to deal with. She was already stuck between two pestering leeches, a third infestation was not ideal.

Before Melissa could complain, Parker stuck a dollar into the swear jar.

"Whatever. Tom, we were just—" Melissa pushed past Parker with an exuberance that had been lacking moments before. It deflated the moment she got a better look at him, however, and the girl's grin slipped into a sour frown. She crossed one arm over the other to peer suspiciously at the blonde. "Wait, you're not Tom."

Colt experienced a variety of emotions in a single second, and Parker couldn't help but laugh when he let out an offended squeak.

"What—how does she know Tom?" he hissed.

Parker dumped the fallen mints back into the bowl with a shrug. "He's stopped by before. She's a huge fan. Number one, apparently. She's seen all his stuff."

"Twice," Melissa added.

Parker pointed at her. "Twice," she reiterated, just knowing that it would piss Colt off.

Just as expected, he responded by rolling his eyes with a second, high-pitched groan. It sounded like he was in pain. "You're a fan of Ryder? Seriously?"

Melissa squared her shoulders at him. "Seriously."

"You do know that he wears a wig, right?"

She huffed. "No, he doesn't."

"Uh, yes he does."

"Does not."

"Does too."

"Does—"

"Okay, that's enough of that," Parker interjected with a groan of her own. What had started off as an amusing blow to her brother's ego was quickly turning into a headache. "Melissa, don't bully him. He has a sensitive ego."

Colt threw his arms up—bowl of mints scattering everywhere—to cry, "Parker! That's not—I don't—who even is this?"

"Who am I? I work here. Who are you?" she shot back, bright eyes narrowed into slits. Parker could imagine her in high-school now, scaring off boys left and right, and if her brother didn't have the mental maturity of a middle schooler, she might have let them argue a little bit longer.

Alas. Colt's weakness was women, and she didn't fancy giving him chest compressions when he inevitably choked on his pride.

"Melissa," she gestured, "this is my brother, Colt. He's a professional stuntman, and has been Tom Ryder's stuntdouble for years. That how I met him in the first place. Colt, this is my new employee, who also happens to be a teenage girl, Melissa."

In unison, the pair gave cagey hmphs.

"Nice to meet you or whatever," Colt sniffed.

"Yeah," she responded with a blithe look. "Totally."

Parker glanced between the pair; both had matching postures, arms crossed, arms averted, neither wanting to acknowledge the other, and she pinched the bridge of her nose with a heavy sigh. Although, to be fair, only one of the two was an actual adult. Despite how Melissa might carry herself from time to time.

Remembering this, she steered the conversation back to more important things. "If I step out for lunch with Colt, do you think you can finish the shelf liners? You can invite one or two friends to hang out. If they help, I suppose I can pay them too."

Pettiness forgotten, Melissa gave Parker a wide-eyed look. "Really?"

"Flat rate. Fifty for the day, a max of two friends. Just no posting on instagram or snapchat or—you know—anything else. I don't need social media being my downfall before I even get started."

"Oh my god, you're so old, Parker. Who would even want to cancel you?" Melissa laughed over her shoulder before disappearing towards the back. Her cell phone was already dialing, and by the time she started pasting on liners, her friends were already on their way.

With that taken care of, Parker blinked over at her brother.

"Yes."

Colt, having replaced whatever book he was pretending to read, furrowed his brows at her. "Yes, what?"

"Whatever you're going to suggest we do, yes, please take me away from here before I commit a craft-themed crime."

"Is that a crime?"

"A violent one."

He clicked his tongue, tossing another mint into his mouth with a curious side-eye across the counter. "Maybe I just wanted to stop in and see how things were looking. You were talking about it at the party so much I figured I'd have to see it eventually."

That was a lame excuse and they both knew it. Colt may have been her biggest cheerleader, but her brother didn't know the difference between paint and lacquer. Not to mention that he was red-green colorblind, and would certainly have a hard time noticing any change in paint around them.

"Coooolllltttttt," she whined.

He quirked his brow at her. "Seriously?"

"Please?" she asked, slumping across the counter. When that didn't work she attempted to flutter her eyelashes at him. That only provoked an eyeroll from him, and she deflated with a moan. "I'll ber lurnch," she muttered into her sweater sleeves.

He lifted a finger to his ear, patronizing and provoking all in a single sweeping gesture. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't get that. What did you say?"

Atop her arms, she glared before slowly reiterating, "I'll buy lunch."

That he understood.

The bastard.

"Well, why didn't you just say so?" he cooed, and when he attempted to pat her atop the head, Parker swatted him away with a glare. She was already reconsidering going anywhere with him, but a single glance towards what was awaiting her in the back of the shop had her sitting up straight. "I have to go to set today for some wardrobe fittings and thought you'd want to come with. Might as well see how the magic is made. We're gonna be late if you keep moping, though."

"We wouldn't have been late if you didn't get all mouthy with Melissa," she snarked while gathering her things. Feeling a bit guilty about leaving the kid to finish the work, she dug a twenty out of her wallet. "I'll be back later! There's money on the counter to get lunch for you girls!"

She got no response—as a mom rarely did with a teenager—and it took Colt tugging her by the elbow to get Parker to step outside. His truck was parked right in front of a fire hydrant.

She raised a brow at him, utterly unimpressed.

"What?" he asked when he caught the look she was shooting him. And, as if it wasn't a low-stakes crime that he was committing, Colt just grinned. "Relax, grumpy-pants. It's a Sunday. Fire hydrants don't count on Sundays. Now get in before we really are late."

There was a lot to say to that, but Parker didn't bother wasting the energy, and with an easy-going grin of her own, she clambered inside.

---

An hour later and Parker finds herself propped on an overflowing table filled with sewing needles, accessories, pens, papers, and a binder flush with polaroid photos of her brother from every angle. The film's wardrobe department, despite his warnings in the car, was more than thrilled that Colt had brought along his sister, and while he was poked and prodded, shifted left and right on a pedestal for everyone to critique, Parker had been set up with an iced coffee, some freshly made baklava, and front row seats to the most amusing thing she had seen in weeks.

"I think the crotch is too tight," Betty said, tugging on the material with long, sharp fingernails that Colt eyed like they were a sleeping snake. "See how it's bunching, we need to let it out, or maybe—see this? We could try—"

"No, no, no, it doesn't need to be let out," Sasha, a blonde woman with oversized cat-eye glasses tutted. "It's supposed to be tight. Remember?"

"It'll rip."

"It'll be fine."

"I suppose for standing, but I think he'll be wearing them for a running sequence—"

The ladies bickered back and forth, hands clawing too close for comfort at her brother's privates, and every so often he would wince when they tugged a little too hard. Parker, watching all of it, giggled every time it happened.

"How come I've never been brought along to fittings before?" she mused, a Cheshire-like grin in place. He had been standing up there for the lasty forty minutes, and every time she took a sip of her drink, Colt would look a little more green in envy at their difference in treatment. "This is fun."

"Fun," he said, mocking her with an eyeroll. "You come up here and try this."

"I happen to think I would look amazing in those pants. I have the ass for them, anyway," she chirped, and Sasha took a break from her bickering just to laugh at the idea. Beaming, Parker added, "I didn't realize that wardrobe fittings for the stunt double would be so... invasive."

"Yeah, well, usually the pants aren't so tight. That's all thanks to Ryder."

"I bet they look good on Tom," she said, half teasing, half meaning it. Anything looked good on Tom as time had proven again and again; from covered in sweat, puking in a toilet to wearing Gucci brand glasses, she had yet to see the guy look bad. Speaking of, "shouldn't he be here too?"

Colt, adjusting the tight collar of his leather jacket, shot her a look. "He's probably staring at himself in a mirror somewhere. That's how they trap raccoons, you know. They get so distracted by their own reflection that they forget to run off before the coon dogs get them."

"That's not a thing."

"Sure it is," he said, twisting on the pedestal as the ladies started to adjust the inseam of the pants. He eyed their gleaming needles nervously as they continued on their warpath across the fabric. "You should watch Animal Planet sometime. They did a whole episode on it."

"On how to catch raccoons?" Parker reiterated, absolutely not believing her brother for a second.

"It was a special."

"Maybe a Looney Tunes' special," she deadpanned with an eyeroll. Colt's mouth propped open in argument, only to freeze up when two pairs of hands started plucking the fabric across his butt, and she watched his face flush red. "Seriously? You're such a child!"

Being called out, Colt scowled at his sister. "Am not."

"Are too."

"Am—you know what?" he caught himself before he could go on his second preschool tirade of the day. Parker sipped her drink with an impish gleam in her eyes. "Whatever. You're supposed to be amusing me, not stirring up shit. Tell me something interesting."

"Sure, Caesar," she rolled her eyes. "What would your highness like to be amused by?

"I don't know! Anything. Like—what were you and Melissa doing today at the shop that had you running scared?"

She blew a raspberry, spinning slightly on the table to snatch up an oversized top hat. She didn't have a clue what sort of movie it would be acceptable for—definitely not a sci-fi one—but she traced the stitching with a bored eye anyways. "Shelf liners. They're way harder than they look, and she can get mean when she wants to be. I swear she acts like she's the boss sometimes."

"Ooooh," he teased. "Scared of a teenager?"

"You should see her first thing in the morning. She must wake up at five am to do her beauty routine, and anyone with that sort of willpower should be feared. I think I'll have to move when she finally saves up for her car. God knows the roadways won't be safe."

"Just because you can't wake up before noon without a liter of coffee doesn't mean everyone else can't. Some people are naturally early risers."

"Says the guy that slept for nineteen hours straight once."

Colt shot her a cross look. "I had a concussion."

"All the morning reason not to sleep that long. Isn't rule number one of head injuries that you're supposed to wake up every so often for a health check?" she asked.

Her brother popped his mouth open to argue, finger poised, before he slowly let it drift down to his side. His silence spoke volumes, however, and she raised her brows at him with a smug smile.

"Oh, like you're so perfect," he huffed irritably.

To which she beamed, plopping the top hat onto her head with a flourish. "Maybe I am. Ever thought about that? I'm pretty, popular with famous people, and am the reigning champion at beerball five years running."

"You cheat at beerball," he snarked before the rest of what she said caught up to him. With a gesture, Colt flexed on the pedestal, adding, "and you're not the only hot Seavers. Look at me? See how these pants are hugging my curves? You wish."

Parker laughed at that, couldn't help it if she tried. Her brother was so ridiculous that at times the way he spewed word vomit surprised even her. Not to mention the fact that he was her brother, best friend on too many planes to count; it was hard not to be in a good mood when hanging with him. Even if she was watching him get pampered like a princess before an upcoming ball.

Speaking of, "so, you don't think Tom will be around?"

Something bewildered cracked across his features at the same time that Sasha and Betty told him to step down from the pedestal. The ladies took their notes to the table, adjusting this and that, while Colt stepped behind a privacy screen. She could hear him grunting as he tried to maneuver out of the pinned clothes without sticking himself.

"Do we need to talk about this?" his voice echoed.

"About what?"

"You. Tom. Whatever weird relationship the two of you have going on," he continued, before yelping when he did stick himself on a pin. Sasha rushed behind the screen to help him get out of the pants, and when she returned, she had the garments in hand. "It's sickening to even think about."

"How is us being friends sickening?" Parker echoed.

"Because—you—he—the guy is an ass!"

"He's not an ass," she argued back, surprising herself at how quickly she came to his defense and how little she actually cared. There were few things her and Colt disagreed on; siblings that knew each other as well as they did often had minor squabbles, but nothing ever world-changing or big. Yet, it didn't feel right to let him say those sorts of things. She could consider why later. "He's just... misunderstood."

"Misunderstood?" his voice pitched behind the screen, before he was stepping out in a totally new suit. It was black and yellow, leather, emboldened with the NASA logo, and for a moment she forgot entirely what they were talking about to ogle it appreciatively.

"Ooh, nice job ladies, I like that one."

Colt paused, glancing down at himself. "It is nice," he said in surprise, twisting and turning in the mirror. As he smoothed the material down, he added, "comfortable too. Is this worn much in the film?"

Betty checked her notes. "Looks like he wears it in a few scenes. Oh, looks like you should be wearing it for a harness drop, so make sure you tell us if it's too tight anywhere," she said as the women headed back over to him with their tape measures and pins. "Good?"

He stretched up and down, left and right, before gesturing to the armpit seams. "Probably could be loosened a bit."

She nodded, and the ladies got to work on that, as Colt returned his attention to his sister. Clearing his throat, he continued their earlier disagreement. "I can't believe you of all people think he's misunderstood."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Uh, hello? Remember the whole coffee thing?"

"I think I understood him perfectly well then," she argued, top hat shifting on her head as she gestured. It was surprisingly heavy, and Parker fixed its lean half-heartedly. "He was an asshole during that encounter, and several encounters since then."

"Then what's with the whole PR parade?"

"I just think he's, I don't know... not always like that."

Colt stared at her; blinking, wide-eyed, with wheels spinning slowly between his ears. She swore she could smell the smoke from there, and Parker prepared herself for whatever ridiculous conclusion he was going to come once the spinning stopped.

"You didn't drink any kool-aid recently did you?"

And, yup. She saw that one coming from a mile away.

"Jesus Christ, Colt," she rolled her eyes, huffing. "When are you going to stop with that Jonestown shit?"

"It was a big deal! More people should be talking about it."

"Yeah, like, three decades ago. No one is trying to copy it with kool-aid. That would be a little bit of an obvious tactic, don't you think? I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I'm not in a cult!"

He held his hands up to placate her, before dropping them back down at Sasha's disgruntled tsk-ing. Parker supposed the ladies would be amused by their conversation if they weren't so intently focused on their work. That or they would be seriously concerned for the siblings' mental welfare.

"I'm just checking. Cult leaders are hard to spot you know. That's their whole gimmick. They look normal, just like you and me, and then next thing you know—wham! Indoctrination. Cult. Weird clothes and bad bathing habits and no teeth. It's a slide, not stepping stones, Park. Tom Cruise fell for it in the eighties and hasn't gotten out since"

"Yeah, well, I don't have any sort of money to give a potential cult leader so I don't really think I'm a good target in the first place. Plus, Tom Cruise seems to be doing just fine with the whole Scientology thing," she replied drolly. He didn't have an argument to that, and she shook the melting ice in her cup half-heartedly. "All I'm saying is he's under a lot of pressure from a lot of people. Isn't it possible that he overreacts sometimes?"

He didn't look pleased with her line of questioning one bit, shaking his head at her like a disappointed parent. "I don't think you should be friends."

"What?"

"I don't like it. I don't like it at all."

"Now who's drinking the kool-aid?"

"I'm just saying! It's weird," he continued, gesturing to her a second time only for Betty to snatch his arm and tug it back down with a glare. Colt didn't seem to notice, however, as he barreled on in the way that idiots often did. "First, it's the bookstore. Normal, no biggie. Then, it's the little giggling and laughter. Odd, but whatever. But then, all of the sudden, he has an invite to my exclusive birthday party—"

She threw her head back with a groan, top hat tumbling to the table. "I already apologized for that!"

"—and next thing you know, our Friday night is being highjacked by some ritzy party in upper LA where I have to wear my nice shoes and act like an adult. I'm telling you—rockslides only take a pebble."

"Are you saying you didn't have fun?" she asked with a pointed look, to which her brother hedged and hawed instead of answering. Like a guilty dog that knew it was in trouble, he avoided eye contact. Replacing the top hat onto her head, she waved her hands around. "See? So what's the problem? You got along then, too, didn't you?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then isn't it possible you misjudged him too?"

"I've known him a lot longer than you."

"But you've never actually spent time with him outside of work."

"For good reason."

"Really? Because you always seem to get along when I'm around," she continued, not ready to let the point go if only because she needed it to stick. "So, how good can the reason be? Maybe he's grown up since you first met him, and you just don't want to accept that."

It was a solid argument, they both knew that.

But Colt was as stubborn as she was. He sniffed. "Well, I still don't like it. Is something going on between you two?"

"Like what?" she asked, despite knowing exactly what was going on between the two of them.

They had kissed. Once. Twice. Three times. Then a few more times until she couldn't really remember what was happening. All she knew was one moment they were kissing and the next moment she was riding home with Colt and Jody, bewildered, breathless, and giddy.

"I have no clue what you're on about," she said despite knowing exactly what he was on about, deciding that gaslighting her brother might be the best option at the moment. "We're just friends."

"Well, obviously," he scoffed, as if anything else was beyond the scope of his imagination.

Which—fair.

She couldn't exactly begrudge him for thinking that there was no chance in hell Parker could kiss someone like Tom Ryder. She could barely believe it, and she was the one that had done it. Still, she scowled at him, contemplating it she wanted to drop the subject entirely or tell him in explicit detail all the reasons he was an idiot, but before she could, the fitting room door opened, and in he walked.

He looked good.

He always looked good.

But today he looked especially good with his dewy skin and jean jacket. Or, maybe, Parker was just looking at him in a new light, and when his gaze landed on her, she couldn't help but grin at him.

"Hey, Tom," she said with a little too much enthusiasm. If he thought it was odd, however, he didn't comment on it. Just ran his gaze over her.

"Nice hat. I'm glad you're finally taking my advice and trying to improve your style, but this isn't exactly what I had in mind."

"The—? Oh!" Parker snatched the top hat off her head with a blush, and in face of her karma, Colt snorted with pleased laughter. Ass. She shot him a side-eye before chirping, "it's Colt's, actually. I told him it looked ridiculous, but the prom is coming up, and Jody is just so exited. You should see his cummerbund. Straight out of the eighteen hundreds."

That effectively wiped the smirk off his face, and Colt started to argue just as Betty ushered him towards the privacy screen for another fitting.

Pleased, she blinked back at Tom.

"What are you doing here?"

"Colt dragged me along for his fittings. Something about being scared of the fashion department team," she joked in a half-whisper, gesturing to where he was hidden behind the privacy screen knowing that he wouldn't be able to hear her. "What are you doing here?"

"I just finished my fittings."

She perked. "Oh, you're done, then?"

He nodded just as Colt re-appeared from behind the screen. The flight suit had been replaced with a suave looking tuxedo that seemed to fit wrong in every place it could, and without knowing fashion at all, Parker had a feeling it would be a while before they finished pinning this particular look. Feeling both rebellious and like a high-schooler with a crush, she cast her brother a look. He immediately caught it, and returned one of his own.

Don't you dare, he said.

She lifted a brow testily. Oh, I dare, the look said.

And just like that, Parker faced Tom and asked, "you want to get lunch?"

"With you two?"

"I don't think Colt will be finished for awhile," she said, mock sincerity in her voice. Her brother heard it, face blustered and annoyed, as she batted her lashes across the room at him. "We could always bring him back something."

"But—!" Colt cried, gesturing at them so hard that he almost whacked Sasha in the head. He didn't even notice in his rush to argue, and it took both seamstresses to position him on the pedestal where they wanted him. "We were gonna get lunch!"

"Well, you're not done, and I'm starving."

"I—I could be done. Right?" he asked, turning his own version of puppy dog eyes towards Sasha and Betty. Unlike Jody and their mom, however, it seemed that they were immune to his charms, and together, they tutted at him. "...but—but!"

"This one needs a lot of work on it," Sasha said, as Betty patted him on the back. "And there's still four more looks to get through before we move you to hair and makeup for mock-ups."

"But—!"

"Don't worry Colt," she cooed at him with a victorious grin, and she would have felt bad for abandoning him if he hadn't been so adamant about his opinion on who she could be friends with. Plus, he accused her of being in a cult four times a year; this was his penance. "We'll bring you back something."

"Do I even want to know what that was about?" Tom asked her once they were in the safety of the hallway.

Parker gave an impish look. "Just Colt being Colt. He gets mopey when he's hungry. Is Mexican okay? I really am starving."

His amusement turned scathing. "Mexican? That's all carbs. No fucking way, I just had my fitting done this morning, and I'm not going to have my pants let out."

She rolled her eyes. "Carbs are good for you," she tutted.

"Not that many."

"Rock, paper, scissors?"

Tom blinked at her—as if he couldn't believe she would suggest such a childish solution—and started off down the hallway without another word.

"Well—we can do two out of three!" she cried in his wake, and it wasn't until he disappeared around the corner did she realize that he might actually leave her to deal with Colt alone. Yelping, she rushed after him. "Okay, okay! Fine! Sushi?"

---

"I can't believe you actually eat this stuff," Parker whined twenty minutes later, a salad with more vegetables than she could name, quinoa, and some sort of vinaigrette dousing the top set out in front of her. The lettuce is limp when she lifts it with a fork, and she can't even pretend to find it appetizing as Tom munches through his. "Like, seriously? I'm not about to be Punk'D?"

He rolled his eyes at her. "You have to be famous to be Punk'D."

"I'm with you, aren't I?" she sassed, prodding the food like a toddler not allowed to leave the table before finishing their peas. She wrinkled her nose at the idea. "I get that salad is healthy or whatever, but don't you ever eat anything that tastes good?"

"This does taste good."

She shot him a look of disbelief to which he shrugged.

"I mean, kind of good," he corrected after a moment.

"It's disgusting. Why is it both limp and hard? You know an entire ethnic community eats all the carbs associated with Mexican food and they're thriving. Have you ever seen a Cinco de Mayo party? Unreal how much fun they're having."

"That's because they're drunk on tequila."

"Well, sure," she hedged, head tipping left and right as she tried to ignore the weird smell coming from the bowl in front of her. "But you gotta live a little, right?"

"I don't want to live a little," he corrected her, spitting out the word like it was distasteful. But he had that same sort of tone that he used when he was repeating something he heard a thousand times, but didn't necessarily believe. "I want to live to be a hundred, and I want to look good while doing that."

"Colt eats Mexican food," she argued.

"Colt isn't the face of a multi-million dollar movie franchise."

"No, just the body."

"Maybe you should have just gone out to lunch with Colt, then," he said, both look and tone cross.

And suddenly Parker felt like she had ceremoniously swallowed her foot in front of him. It hadn't occurred to her that he might have a touchy relationship with food, and guilt settled on her shoulders like a weight. She felt pretty stupid for not seeing that—just like she had told Colt, the amount of pressure he was under at all times was not something either sibling would be able to comprehend—and five minutes into lunch she had already made an ass of herself.

"Sorry," she said, stuffing limp lettuce into her mouth as if to prove that she agreed with him. It tasted gross, though, and Tom definitely didn't miss the way she had to choke it down. "Mhmm, it's so... salad-y."

Whether it was her tone or the look she made while saying it, something about the act worked, and when he shook his head she caught the edges of a smile peeking across his face.

Feeling better, Parker aimed for more neutral territory.

"So, your party was fun," she said, before immediately realizing that was clearly not a neutral territory if the way he paused in his chewing was anything to go by. The last thing she wanted was to come across as some sort of lovesick teenager, and she nearly choked on her tongue to add, "I just mean—Colt and Jody really liked it. She got to network a lot. Plus, Colt has been dying to see your house for, like, ever."

"He has?"

"Sure," she shrugged. "You guys have worked together for almost a decade. I think he's always wondered what your life outside of work looked like."

Tom digested that information as slowly as he digested his food, and she managed another bite of soggy, lemon-flavored lettuce before he decided on a reaction. "I didn't realize that he really cared."

"What do you mean?"

Tom shrugged; one of the rare moments he actually looked awkward while talking about something, and Parker set aside her fork to wash the bad flavor down with some bitter tasting kombucha.

Bad. It was all bad. The health food industry had to be some sort of joke.

"I don't know; just never really thought about hanging out with Colt outside of the set. I told you the stunt guys don't like me."

"What?" she deadpanned. "You? That is such shocking news. I'm shocked."

Tom huffed, then laughed, before shaking his head at her. "Don't be an ass."

"Me? Never."

"Never," he echoed, clearly mocking her. She didn't mind though. It wasn't vindictive or mean, and if it made him feel better, her ego could handle a little mocking banter. Especially when his shoulders relaxed as if a weight was being taken off them. "Whatever. Glad they, uh, had fun."

"Well, you know—open bar, secrets about the Hollywood elite. What wasn't there to like about the party?"

He nodded, another bite taken, as Parker miserably tried to force herself to eat her own food. When he had suggested a vegan salad spot, she hadn't been thrilled, but never in her wildest dreams did she imagine it would be this bad.

"Did, uh," he cleared his throat, "you enjoy the party?"

"Hm?" she hummed, not properly hearing the question as she tried to figure out if the brown thing in her bowl was a raisin or a date. Then she did, and Parker blinked up to find Tom watching her carefully. "Oh. Yeah. Yes. I had, you know, lots of fun. With Colt, Jody, er... you."

He glanced away, nodding, before peeking back at her. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it was... it was nice. I mean—not just the, er—you know. Not just when you—when I—when we..." she overemphasized, face hot and red as she struggled to put her thoughts into words. She absolutely didn't want to sound like their kiss was the only thing she had thought about all weekend, but she also didn't want to act indifferent because dating had somehow drifted into a game of tag nowadays.

Not that they were dating.

Oh god.

It was one kiss. Obviously they weren't dating, and he probably hadn't even thought about it a second time, and that's probably not what he was asking about in the first place, and—she was obsessing, wasn't she?

Oh, god.

"...um," Parker choked, swallowing some more kombucha before remembering she actually hated the taste of it. Wiping her mouth, she slumped onto the table with an embarrassed sigh. "Can you just put me out of my misery, please?"

Tom lifted a brow. "You might do that yourself. Are you having a stroke?"

"Maybe."

He passed over his cup of water, and Parker took a couple small sips until her cheeks didn't feel so hot. He was still watching her, still eating his food, but it was clear from the sparkle in his eye and the smug curve of his mouth that he was greatly enjoying the show. "Just wanted to make sure you had fun," he said.

"I would have had fun if we just played twenty questions," she said, catching the way he hesitated in his eating, before continuing. The cocky gleam was gone from his eye, and something kind remained when he glanced at her. "Not to complain about the... other stuff, but I meant everything I told you. I don't hang out with you for an open bar."

Tom's gaze swept the planes of her face before he nodded. It was a confident nod, for once, and he spoke he almost sounded... happy.

"Well, that's a relief at least. With how much you drink, I'm a little worried between you and Gail I'm going to go bankrupt this year. I swear every party costs more and more."

"Can't you set a budget?"

"It's Hollywood," he deadpanned, and she supposed that was an obvious enough answer that the deadpanning was necessary. "You think anything is ever under-budget?"

Parker wouldn't really know; the only thing she stuck to a budget for was Bath & Body Works lotions and Uber Eats. Just like he had said though, if she didn't, she was confident that she would be bankrupt within days.

Shrugging, she quipped, "next time you can just invite Jody and I. By keeping Colt away, you'll probably spare yourself a few thousand on alcohol alone. Though, he did behave himself last time since he was the designated driver, but I swear he's put a few bars out of business from Happy Hour deals alone."

Tom, another heaping of lettuce down, jabbed a fork at her. "Think I'd be better keeping you away considering how many napkins you took."

"Oh, shut up. They're, like, fifty cents each!"

"You had at least a hundred in you purse when you left."

"Well—" she threw her arms up, blustering, "it's not like I took all of them. Plus, when I sell them on eBay I'll give you a commission. Unlike when you got this fancy sci-fi role. I'm still waiting on my agent's fee for that one."

He shook his head at her. "Yeah, just hold your breath on that one."

With all the maturity she could muster, Parker stuck her tongue out at Tom, and with all the maturity he could muster, he chucked a carrot at her. It bounced onto the patio ground, and she noticed with a look of betrayal that not even the local squirrel population would touch it.

"Tom," she leaned forward, "I am begging you. I need carbs."

"You don't—"

"I'm going to die. Dramatically. And not quietly. Everyone will know, and they're going to think you killed me, and the tabloids will never let that go. Forgot living to a hundred, you'll be seventy and in a retirement home. Please."

Her pleading did nothing.

So, taking drastic measures, Parker used all of her own acting experience to flutter her eyelashes at him, eyes wide and dog-like. And whether it was the pathetic way she threw herself onto the table, or maybe it was the smell of the hotdog cart from down the street, but after a long moment of begging, Tom's shoulder sank with a sigh.

"Jesus Christ, fine."

"Oh, thank god," she slumped, a disgruntled look towards her salad and kombucha before the idea of real food had her perking right back up. She had tossed their stuff in the trash before Tom could manage one more bite of his salad, and though he tried to look disgruntled by that fact, when she tugged him to his feet with a giggle, he was fighting off a smile. "Have you ever had the monster burrito from Lolita's? It has cream cheese and pickles."

"That sounds disgusting."

"I know!" she bounced in excitement, pulling him along after her, gabbing all the way.

Tom let her drag him down the street without any complaint, let her order him her favorite burrito, chips, and Mexican lemonade without arguing—though he did try to see the calorie count on the menu before she snatched it away from him—and because they were on an empty set on a Sunday no one paid them much mind.

A good thing, too, because if someone had, they might have noticed the goofy grin she was wearing, or the amused smile he was; and if they looked closer, they might have even noticed that even after they got to where they were going, Tom Ryder was still holding her hand as they waited in line, letting her lean against his chest as they waited on their orders, before sitting awfully close to her on a little stone bench outside.

But, no one noticed.

Not until her shrill ringtone broke through their game of twenty questions about an hour later as her brother complained about how hungry he was. And though he suspected something weird was going on, not even Colt noticed the sly smiles they shared with one another when they delivered his food as promised or the spot of wet lipgloss smeared on Tom Ryder's mouth.

[klemsk-a]

TL;DR

S2a undermines the concept of redemption so badly it makes me want to cry.

Megatron changing for the better is interesting because it’s complicated. He used to be a warlord, a tyrant, people suffered directly as a consequence of his actions. Unfortunately ES fails to show us these consequences. The closes we have are Starscreams words and that is far from showing us anything.

There are no flashbacks, no actual conversations. Nothing but the present and most of it is from childrens perspective.

This lack of nuance is frustrating. For all we know Megatron might’ve acted exactly the same, but changed factions therefore he is a good guy know.

And this “autobots = good, decepticons = bad” morality is so on the nose in s2a it’s actually kind of pathetic.

The new season needed a villain, and all the hatred for cybertronians apparently evaporated (everybody else just had a change of heart ig and the only 2 people who actually disliked them are dead) and the cons were “always” bad so it doesn’t matter.

It allows the writers not to think about Megatron and problems accompanying his redemption because his victims are terrible so… it’s all fine, don’t worry 👍.

Perhaps it isn’t this way and I majorly misinterpreted the show.

The existence of the chaos terrans really makes me doubt it tho. It also makes me incredibly mad.

Aftermath literally comes into existence, has no idea what’s going on, who is everyone and they’re all fighting. So he does too. And immediately gets called terrible, basically the evil version of the terrans.

WHAT KIND OF MESSAGES IS THAT?

That because you aren’t from a perfect family you’re evil? That is what I got out of it.

Terrans = whole Emberstone = good

Chaos terrans = broken Emberstone = bad

For a show about acceptance and empathy that is a terrible plot point 😀

The episode with Aftermath and Jawbreaker (was extremely boring imo but that’s not important) gives you the impression they’re going to further develop Aftermath. Have him questioning orders and thinking about his choices. But no, he STOLE the entire water from a cave in one tank (how did he even manage???)

Spitfire is an even worse example.

On her first day alive, she gets told that if she wins a race she gets to go on an autobot mission.

She wins, by endangering Alex, and they tell her she won’t get the reword. It’s all understandable but the writers clearly don’t know anything about raising children or children in general.

Yes Spitfire did a bad thing and has to be taught that her behaviour was bad. No they cannot be mad at her for not immediately understanding and agreeing with them. That’s why children (especially toddlers) are infuriating. They don’t know better so you have to teach them, but they will find a loophole to help them get what they want (obviously depends on a child but we are rolling with Spitfires personality). Now depending on what they’ve done to get to it you either reward them or punish them. Because they don’t necessarily understand what they did wrong, even if it’s obvious to you, it can be hard to explain in a way that satisfies a child.

Spitfire lashing out and attacking Twitch is common for kids who believe that someone got something they deserved. It’s especially common if a kid has problems with aggression.

That could’ve been an interesting character development and a good message. Sometimes children won’t be easy to deal with (as all the terrans are, sure they can make bad decisions but ultimately they don’t cause much problems), sometimes they have unpleasant personalities or behavioural problems but it doesn’t make them evil. Being there and loving a child isn’t enough to raise them, discipline is needed and so is patience.

But no.

Aftermath and Spitfire are chaos terrans so they are evil by proxy. Too bad lol.

Twitch and Thrash needed to learn everything. So did Nightshade, Hashtag and Jawbreaker. There was a great deal about self discovery.

Aftermath and Spitfire already have alt modes (at least Spitfire I don’t actually remember Aftermath) and they are just terrible, no good people.

Case closed, problem solved.

Oh. And then they died so…

Unlucky 🤷‍♀️

Redemption in media, especially kids media is important. It sends a message that you can in fact mess up in life, make a couple (hundreds) of mistakes and still come out on top.

But redemption is earned, and it can be (and often is) hard to changed for the better (as opposed to changing for worse).

You shouldn’t change for those you have hurt but so it won’t happen again, so you won’t hurt others again.

Some will come back, some will not.

It IS important that you try nonetheless.

Because no matter what explaining isn’t excusing and no one is born evil.

This show is so FRUSTRATING to me because I cared, and still do obviously (I wrote two versions of this but accidentally deleted the first one so had to write one again).

I really hope S2b will be back on track about acceptance and redemption.

I think Starscream deserved better but sincerely hope they (autobots) will get a hold of him, and him and Megatron will actually talk.

At least let Starscream have his father-daughter relationship with Hashtag, please 🙏.

[sunwarmed-ash]

Max Prompts 3

From @tentoriumcerebelli

Prompt: Harringriveson pool party, for this hot summer weather

Tags: Billy x Eddie x Steve, hot boy summer, bisexual steve harrington, gay billy hargrove, queer eddie munson, pre-slash,

HOT TO GO!🕶️☀️⛱️

Steve’s gonna kill the party for making him come here, because really, since he found out Hargrove was lifeguarding again, through an unfortunate eavesdropped conversation at the Wheeler's house, the last place he wanted to be was in the man's presence again. 

They haven't spoken more than a few words to each other since October. Of ‘84. It’s currently June of ‘86. In that time Steve has graduated, officially ended things with Nancy, discovered he’s bisexual, and started dating Eddie Munson on the down low. Not because either of them are ashamed of the other, but because in a town like Hawkins, discretion was required for survival. 

That may also be the reason he allowed the kids to drag him here. He knew Eddie would be here. He had shown up damn near every day since the pool reopened. Because, well, Steve wasn’t the only one with unresolved ‘feelings’ for Californian Dickhead Billy Hargrove.

But unlike Billy and Steve, Eddie and Billy have become incredibly close in the same short span of time. 

Steve isn’t jealous, no, of course not… He knows Billy’s… unobtainable. But now, as he watches Billy lean in and whisper something to Eddie that makes the man’s eyelids flutter a bad feeling in his gut stirs. 

He breaks his eyes off his boyfriend and the baine of his exhistane and goes to set down the overfull bag of sunscreen, water and snacks his overprepared ass overpacked on a set of beach chairs. The kids have already run off and into the pool, ditching him and leaving him with all the towels. 

Steve’s not really in the mood to swim anymore. He drops all the kids towels in a pile and takes his time setting up his own area. 

-

Thirty minutes later, his dripping wet, obnoxious boyfriend comes running over, practically flying into the plastic beach chair next to him. 

“Jesus Eddie,” Steve scolds, shaking off the water Eddie’s splashed all over him. “You got me all wet!”

“We’re at a pool Steve!” he laughs, not letting Steve’s sour mood lower his. 

“Still, if you hadn’t noticed, I’m purposefully not in the water.”

“Yeah? Why not,” he asks, pumping his eyebrows knowingly. “Scared you’re gonna cramp and Hargrove’s gonna have to save you?” 

Steve slaps his arm hard. 

“Oww!” Eddie says, mocking hurt before pouting his lips. “What? It’s true!”

“Doesn’t matter, he hasn’t taken his eyes off you since we arrived,” Steve grumbles, regretting it immediately. 

“Whoa wait,” Eddie cracks a grin, “are you jealous, Steve?”

Steve wishes not for the first time that he had a magazine or a book to hide his face behind, because Eddie can see everything he’s trying to hide like it was written in permanent marker all over his face. 

“Oh my god, you totally are!” Eddie’s grin only gets wider. Steve wants to evaporate on the spot.

“You don’t need to be though,” Eddie continues, “he’d totally suck your dick if you asked.”

Steve’s mouth opens in both shock and outrage but unfortunately for him saliva, a rouge bug, or karma got the jump on him, halting whatever he was about to say. 

It sends him spiraling into an unattractive coughing fit. One that lasted so long and filled his eyes with so many tears he doesn’t notice shift change at the lifeguard stand until Billy’s saddled up next to them. 

“You alright there Pretty Boy?” Billy asks, trying his hardest to hold in a laugh. 

Steve sends him a glare and flips him off. 

“You can blame me for that Bills,” Eddie chuckles, rubbing Steve’s back. “Think I caught him off guard.”

“What did you do now Munson?” Billy rolls his eyes, but its not the angry roll Steve’s had hurled his way countless times. It’s almost playful. 

Steve’s eyes are now on Eddie. 

Eddie’s grin grows mischievous and Steve’s anxiety knows he’s not going to like what Eddie’s about to say. 

“I got him thinking about you sucking him off.”

Two things happen in that next moment. And neither of them is anything close to what Steve expects to happen. 

First, Billy laughs, genuinely and a little embarrassed, but covering for it well. 

Steve doesn’t think he’s ever heard that sound before…

And secondly, he confirms Eddie’s earlier offer. 

“All you gotta do is ask,” Billy shrugs, pushing his whistle between his teeth and winking before leaving them. 

-

Eddie is still cackling while Steve sits there dumbstruck, watching Billy walk back to the the clubhouse.

“I told you.” 

“You blindsided me!”

“Yeah, but it worked in our favor, right?” Eddie smirks and if Steve wasn’t so hard right now he’d stand up and shove Eddie in the pool.

“You’re insane Munson.”

“Yeah, but you like it.”

Steve did. He really did. 

“You’re gonna love his dick, Steve.”

Steve chokes again, flushing head to toe when it gets Billy’s immediate attention from across the pool.

Damn you Eddie Munson. 

“It's pierced,” Eddie adds unhelpfully. 

Steve grabs his towel. He needs to be anywhere but here right now.

---

hehehe i love this one so much its p gonna be the start of another super long harringroveson fic!

*Ignore the numbers, nothing about me is chronological. The muse is running the order these get answered in*

[armoricaroyalty]

How does a marriage end? Is it severed, head from body, limb from limb? Extinguished, snuffed out like a candle? Unraveled, warp and weft, its threads wound back into spools? In physics, there is no creation or destruction, only transformation. Love operates on similar principles. Pour out a bucket of water, and the water doesn't go anywhere. It pools, flows, evaporates, but it isn't ever gone, just transformed into something else. Heartbreak becomes wisdom; love becomes grief. Elise, sixty years old and facing the prospect of long and lonely decades as an ex-something—ex-wife, ex-queen—was both sad and wise. She would have preferred to be happy and foolish.

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Author's note: Another one that has been in the drafts so long I forgot whether or not I had anything insightlful to say. Thank you to @housekonig for loaning me Cordelia and for your infinite patience!

Transcript under the cut.

Blackwell Palace // February 2018

[ clock ticking ] ELISE | [ offscreen ] ...and I called him three times today. Three times! ELISE | ...and he can't even be bothered to pick up the phone and return my call. CORDELIA | I'm so sorry, Elise. CORDELIA | I wish I knew what to say... ELISE | [ offscreen ] There's nothing to say. ELISE | We're going to tell the children this weekend. We've asked them all up to Morley. CORDELIA | [ offscreen ] Oh no... ELISE | [ sighs ] This year was going to be our 29th anniversary. CORDELIA | Twenty-nine years...he's treated you terribly, hasn't he? ELISE | [ sighs ] No. He hasn't. Or at least...he didn't used to. ELISE | That's the hardest part of all of this, we were never unhappy. There were bumps in the road, sure, but that's all they ever were. Bumps. CORDELIA | Yes, but how many bumps does a road have to have before it's...well, bumpy? Thirty years is a long time, but how many of those years were good years? How many were just unexceptional. How many were bad? ELISE | [ sighs ] We had a good marriage, Cord. After everything that's happened, everyone wants to rewrite history, but...it wasn't like that with the two of us. There were no warning signs, we ere happy together. For years and years, we were happy. CORDELIA | ...is that why you're still wearing your ring? ELISE | [ sighs ] I just want to go back to how things were. We used to need each other. It used to be just the two of us and our little family against the world. CORDELIA | And that homewrecker was out in the cold, where she belongs? ELISE | [ offscreen ] Cordelia-- ELISE | You know I don't like talking about...all of that. CORDELIA | [ sighs ] CORDELIA | Just once, I wish you'd get mad. Elise, you've been treated terribly, used up and thrown out, and you deserve to scream and shout and be angry with him! ELISE | Cordelia, please. CORDELIA | It's true! It's not the 19th century, you don't have to look the other way. Any other woman would be furious with him, with both of them! They both betrayed you, but you still won't stand up for yourself! CORDELIA | even now, you're still defending him! ELISE | Enough. CORDELIA | I'm sorry, Elise. It had to be said. ELISE | I said enough. ELISE | [ offscreen ] Cordelia, you know me better than almost anyone. All those summers we spent together when the kids were little...you're one of my oldest friends. You're one of my only friends. And I would prefer to stay friends. Just...let this drop. Please. CORDELIA | ... ELISE | ... CORDELIA | Well, how are the wedding plans coming along? ELISE | ...good. Emily chose her tiara today. CORDELIA | Oh, that's wonderful! You know, I'm so happy for the two of them! They're so photogenic, they're even getting coverage in Vernick. ELISE | [ offscreen [ Where does the time do? I can't believe Freddy's getting married. I swear, it's like I blinked and he was all grown up. I thought he'd be little forever... CORDELIA | [ laughs gently ] It goes by so fast, doesn't it?