#its the way i like all of em. i love him he deserves love | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tonycries · 9 months ago

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A Picture Lasts Long (But Not As Long As That D*ck)

Synopsis. Smile for the camera - as best you can when you’re being absolutely wrecked in all sorts of ways underneath them anyway!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Choso x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Geto x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exhibitionism (Toji’s), mutual másturbation, phone séx, créampie, oral (female + male receiving), vibrators, bóudoir, manhandling, marking, Gojo is a menace, fíngering, dp, face-sitting, some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 3.8k

A/N. Was gonna add Sukuna but I feel like he’d hate modern technology.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - The internet sensation

“Whaddaya say, you horny fuckers? Think she deserves to cum?”

Now, Toji Fushiguro is always one for extra cash. Who wasn’t, really? So when you approached him with a devious idea, well, how could he ever say no to his pretty girl?

He just didn’t think he’d be here - your bare legs splayed out on his lap, dripping cunt spread so shamefully, buzzing vibrator deafening over your pretty moans - all in front of that blinking camera. And the hundreds of thousands behind it.

“T-Toji, wan’ cum. Wanna cum so bad, please.” you mewl. Big, fat tears dripping down your cheeks at the way he’s been teasing you for so long now. You can barely make out the rush of comments flashing across the screen.

The camera captures everything so sinfully well. The way your cunt is completely soaked, clenching desperately around nothing as Toji slides the vibrator along your swollen folds. Circling your needy hole, just grazing your swollen clit. Teasing them just as much as you.

Pathetic fuckers, he thinks, but entertains their desperate comments anyway.

“Hmm, they’re saying I should let you cum, pretty.” he whispers in your ear, low and hoarse with need. “Saying I should be ‘nice.’”

He brings the vibrator - now glistening with your slick - to his lips. Licking a long, languid stripe up it, collecting your sweet juices on his tongue. Turning it ever-so-slightly towards the camera to show off what the fuckers behind it will never get, he hums dangerously, “What do you think, my girl?”

You gasp out a sob, uselessly trying to buck your hips toward where you needed him the most. “Please, Toji. Wanna cum, I’ll do anything.”

“Oh yeah?” he chuckles, spreading your legs open even further with a feral groan.

In one, fluid motion, he buries the vibrator deep in your dripping cunt, relishing the surprised yelp that leaves your swollen lips. “Then show ‘em how much you like it, pretty. How much you love me not being ‘nice.’”

And that’s all that is said before he’s fucking you into you at an urgent, sinful pace. Pulling out all the way till the buzzing tip just circles your swollen folds, ramming into you with no care or concern for the burning stretch. Toji knew you liked it - besides, it was half the size of him anyway.

“C’mon, smile for the camera, pretty.” he grunts into your ear, “Tell ‘em how I make m’girl feel.”

You can barely choke out, “Ah! Oh- shit. S’good. Hngh-”

Blood rushes straight to his cock at the way you were taking it like such a good girl. Head lolling against his muscled shoulder as Toji pushes the vibrator in and out in and out in and-

“Yeah? Who makes you feel this good?”

Angling it just right to expertly hit against that one spot he knew would have your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Ngh- Ah! You!” you whine, thighs quivering at both the burn of being so spread open and the electricity coursing through your veins at Toji’s relentless pace. Mind spinning, vision blurring, you barely register the hand snaking its way down down down.

A harsh thumb pressing down hard on your throbbing clit. “Wha- Toji hah-” you squeal as he starts drawing slow, tight little circles on it. Lazy and languid where he was fucking into you mercilessly like you were his lil’ toy right below.

“Tha’s right, my girl. Say it for all those lonely little fuckers behind the camera to hear.” He doesn’t stop thrusting the vibrator into you, instead speeding up his movements impossibly at the lewd squelches filling the heady air.

“You. No one- else- hngh-” you moan softly hips bucking up in tandem with his hand. “M’gonna- Ah ngh- m’gonna-”

“Say my name, pretty.”

“T-Toji! Hah-” you squeal deliriously, cumming desperately around the buzzing vibrator. Walls clenching as he continues to fuck you through it. A smug little smirk on his face as he watches the way your eyes flutter closed, body bowing jerkily into his.

Ah, you look so pretty like this. Those losers behind the screen were probably at the gates of heaven already.

In the haze of your orgasm, you barely hear the low murmur from above you. “Now, you horny fuckers. Think her pretty hole can take my cock at the same time?”

♡ GETO SUGURU - The secret album

Geto Suguru doesn’t let anyone touch his phone - especially his photo gallery. Always turning off the screen from prying eyes, pocketing it safely before flashing an innocent grin.

But why? That one time Shoko stole his phone while he was in the bathroom revealed only a few blurry, aesthetic shots of you, the sky, and you. So what did that man have to hide?

Well, what she didn’t know is had she scrolled down just a bit more - before Geto ripped the phone from her hands - she’d have come across the treasure trove named with a simple “Love.”

Not one, not even tens - but hundreds upon hundreds of videos of you all falling apart underneath him.

Most of them favorited, all of them sorted so meticulously according to his tastes in a way that showed he spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you. But it wasn’t enough to capture your perfection. It never was.

Which is probably why Geto had you sitting prettily on his face, juices spreading so lewdly across his mouth as he tonguefucked you into insanity.

The video was shaky, focusing in and out of the way your bruised lips dropped into a soft oh! as he bullies past your swollen folds.

It zooms in on the dazed expression on your face, eyes miles away. “Oh, Suguru. M-more” your broken moans crackle through the speaker. Just barely capturing the soft ah! ah! ah! escaping your lips each time Geto’s tongue dips into your sloppy hole.

Oh, this video was definitely going in his favorites.

“Take the phone, love. Show the camera how good I make you feel.” he murmurs into your dripping cunt, words hoarse with desire.

And Geto might love you on film - but this was your favorite part. When the camera flips and you see him in all his disheveled, sinful glory. “Ah- y’look so pretty under me, Sugu.”

Dark hair splayed out on the pillow, stray strands sticking to his forehead as he looks at you with hazy, pussy-drunk eyes. His ringed fingers holding your thighs apart in a bruising grip. Lips glossy and swollen as they continue their abuse on your ravaged pussy.

Flattening his tongue along your swollen folds, sliding teasingly between them. Your slick glistens in the dim lighting, dripping down down down the lower half of his face.

And Geto, well, looks like he’s absolutely in heaven. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he licks at his girl’s pretty cunt, tipping his head back further just to let your sweet juices slide down his throat.

You’re so focused on how pretty he looks that you almost miss the long fingers deftly snaking their way along your thigh. Spreading your swollen folds apart with his thumbs, he whispers raspily, “Shit. No video in the world can capture how pretty you look like this, love.”

The pure look of admiration has the camera shaking, and you sputtering out, “Wha- Suguru what nonsense-”

“Shhh, my girl. Lemme take care of it.”

And with that he’s sinking knuckle-deep into your pussy, while his ruby lips wrapping around your swollen clit. Zooming in desperately on the way he rolls his tongue harshly along it, sucking so sensually. Like a man starved.

“Ah- hngh, Sugu. Feel s’good.” you gasp as he starts thrusting his fingers inside you. God, you don’t know how you don’t drop the phone at this point, white-hot jolts of pleasure running up your spine from where Geto was making out so sloppily with your cunt.

Tears sting your eyes as he curls his fingers just right to brush against that one spot that has you bucking into his mouth for more more more- Hitting it over and over-

Fingers tangling in his silky hair, the video grainy with movement as you use it as leverage to grind deeper into Geto’s face. Chasing your high with an almost-embarrassing neediness. Close. So close.

A muffled, “Cum f’me, love. Cum for the camera.”

And then you’re cumming. Stars behind your eyes, and Geto’s hungry gaze searing into your brain - and the video - as you chase peak after peak on his pretty face, grinding down desperately. Your vision is hazy, head spinning.

But Geto’s is decidedly not as he quickly skims through the obscene video, lips still attached with yours.

Ah, damn these cameras. No matter how high quality, he could never quite capture the delicate trail of drool decorating the corner of your lips. Or the exact pattern of the neat crescents that your nails leave on his chest.

They could ever quite capture the perfection that was you.

But it’s fine.

That’s what multiple takes are for, right?

♡ NANAMI KENTO - The photographer

Nanami Kento wasn’t into photography - which didn’t quite explain the tripod and hefty camera set sitting in the corner of his office.

No, he was more into absolutely fucking ruining you in front of the camera just to capture a semblance of how heavenly you look for him. Which, well, explains the countless framed photographs decorating the walls of his often-locked office. Nothing extremely explicit - but enough to make a stray onlooker blush and look away.

And well, how could you say no? Especially when he had you bent over his desk, leaking tip dragging teasingly along your swollen folds, camera aimed right at the way you lean into his cock.

Cold tabletop digging into your skin, his fingers warm on your pulsing clit. Drawing tight, methodical little circles. So like him.

“C’mon, darling. Arch your back more f’me like a good girl.” he murmurs lowly, breath hot against your ear.

As if on autopilot, you press further into his swollen cock. Sliding it deftly between your folds, just aching for any bit of friction. “K-Kento, please-.” you babble, delirious from him and his piercing gaze and him.

“Mhm, spread your legs more f’me. Yeah, jus’ like that, darling.” he mutters, voice steady with the audacity of someone that wasn’t grinding his rock-hard cock into your dripping cunt. Hips moving in shallow, mindless little motions despite himself. Yet, holding back so agonizingly.

So, you take matters into your own hands.

Slowly, purposefully, you lift yourself higher, arching so desperately into Nanami’s throbbing cock. The soft little bump! bump! bump! of him pulsing against your walls a tempo that you were losing your sanity to. And if you were in any better state of mind, you’d be almost embarrassed by how needy you were acting. “Kento! Wan’ you to fuck me alre-”

You don’t get to finish the sentence, because Nanami only takes a second to snap back his hips before pressing into your dripping cunt. The stretch of your walls absolutely addictive.

Click!

Ah, there was the perfect shot.

All the blood rushes to Nanami’s cock at what showed on the screen - the exact moment that he split you apart on his cock. Your eyes wide, mouth parted ever-so-slightly, such an obscene mixture of shock and ecstacy painted across your face.

His girl was so beautiful. Especially when she was stuffed full of his cock.

“This is what you wanted, right?”

One hand steady on the camera, the other pulls you deeper onto his cock as Nanami begins to move inside you. Pulling out all the way till his leaking tip is just circling your sloppy entrance - only to ram his length into you mercilessly.

“My girl wanted to be full of my cock?” he hums darkly, “S’full she can barely even speak?” Hungry eyes devour the way your pretty pussy was milking him so greedily, barely even letting him pull out to fuck back into you harder than before.

“Ah! Yes- hah-” you breathe out, “”Wanted hngh- s’bad-”

He maps every curve and dip of the way you grind down onto his cock, taking in the obscenely heavenly sight of his cock disappearing into your pretty pussy - and so does the camera.

Click!

Another one - your eyes locked onto Nanami’s. Dripping cunt just barely in the frame as he continues ravaging you from behind.

Back arched, such a sinful little expression on your face as you buck your hips wildly to meet his thrusts. As frantic as the hasty little movements of his thumb on your throbbing clit - not even circles anymore, just sloppy, sinful motions to get you off.

“Hah- please Kento,”

Click! Click!

Oh, if Nanami had it his way these photos would decorate every hallway of this house. For everyone to see.

“Wanna- hngh- wanna cum, Kento.” you mewl, ass stinging from where Nanami’s toned pelvis smacked yours at a ceaseless, maddening cadence. Clit now ravaged from both his ruthless abuse and the heavy balls smacking against it with each thrust.

Click! Click! Click!

“Then cum, darling.”

You see stars behind your eyes as you cum - or maybe that was the unforgiving camera. Capturing each and every detail of the way eyes, dazed and fucked-out, lock onto Nanami’s. Swollen lips dropping into such a pretty oh, Kento! Pushing yourself from the desk on shaky arms to arch so sinfully as Nanami goes over the edge as well.

Camera shaky for the first time as he twitches inside you savagely, before pumping thick, hot ropes of cum into your quivering walls. Trickling down your legs so lewdly, pooling at the sterile floors below - a problem for later.

Click! Ah, another gem for his walls.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - The urgent calls

When Choso video calls you, you know never to answer in public. Why? Well…

“Cho, what is- Oh.” Your words catch in your throat as you take in the absolutely sinful sight on your screen, cunt clenching in anticipation as you slowly bury deeper into your covers.

Legs spread on the bed, such a pretty blush dusting his face, throbbing erection leaking furiously on his toned abs - your boyfriend was an absolute vision.

“Baby…” he whines, sending a jolt of pleasure right down to your cunt. “Was missin’ you today.”

Ah, you can’t help but tease him a bit. Raising a brow, “Oh really?”

Despite his absolutely ravaged state, Choso finds it in himself to scoff, “M’serious. Jus’ thinking about that slutty pink bra you had on today. How much better it would look on my bedroom floor.”

A large hand makes its way on screen, deftly snaking down his milky skin - down, down down all the way from his abs, resting just at the tufts of black hair at his toned pelvis. Waiting. Teasing.

Now it was your turn to scoff, pussy twinging impatiently at the way he was so stubbornly waiting for you to break first. Well, two can play that game.

Unbuttoning your shirt slowly - so agonizingly slowly - revealing just a flash of that pink he wanted so bad. That rips a low groan out of Choso, precum smearing on his palm as he squeezes his swollen cock. Success.

“C’mon now, baby, don’t tease. Be a good girl f’me.”

Batting your lashes mockingly, “You first.”

You always did know how to get what you want, huh? Because with an impatient little grunt, Choso spits a steady stream of saliva once, twice onto his furiously red cock.

Your mouth waters as he grips the base tight, so achingly hard and flushed your favorite shade of pretty pink. Precum leaking down his glistening veins, pooling at the heavy balls that twitch at the mere sound of your voice as you mutter, “Oh. You really did miss me.”

“Mhm, your turn.” he gets out through a low hiss, desperation bleeding through your speakers and into the heady air. Starting to pull on his cock in shallow, mindless little tugs - just the way you do it.

Finally relenting, you slip off your top, reaching for the clasp behind your when-

“Keep it on. Now spread your pretty legs for me, baby.”

Choso’s greedy eyes are locked on the screen as you flip the camera, showing off your already-soaked panties. Oh, you little minx.

“Shit. You don’ know what you do to me, baby.” he groans, movements getting jerkier. Fist flying up and down his cock - just wishing his hands were yours. Ah, how yours would be softer, prettier, straining to cup his thick cock. “C’mon now, my girl. Show me you wan’ me just as much.”

God, Choso thinks he could cum right on the spot as you hastily remove your wet panties, delicate trails of slick connecting them to your pretty cunt as you slide it down your legs. Yet, he manages to find it in himself to grit out a low, “Touch yourself the way I would, baby.”

And, well, you don’t need to be told twice.

Bullying your fingers through your swollen folds, thumb just grazing your throbbing clit. Purposefully teasing yourself - purposefully not giving in to what you craved so bad. No, you were too entranced with what was onscreen.

With the way Choso was fucking his fist so desperately. Like he was trying to fuck something delicious out. Harder on the base, featherlight on his flushed head. Thumb teasing under the slit just the way you would.

“Shit- Oh, baby,” Choso groans, his hips bucking wildly as if he could somehow close the distance between you. His grip on his cock almost painful as he pounds into his hand. Ah, how you wish that was your hand instead.

Your fingers dip lower, rubbing your entrance. A thrill running through you at the way Choso’s eyes widen as you slide a finger inside yourself with a whine of his name.

“Need you here with me, need to feel you around me,” you pant, rubbing against your clit in time with his fist, eyes locked on the way his throbbing cock twitches in his hands at the mere sound of your voice. Palm running up and down up and-

“Choso, just come here an’ fuck me already.”

You catch a glimpse of his eyes flickering closed, breath slowing, a satisfied smile curling his lips and then- thick spurts of cum covering his toned abs. Glistening so deliciously in the dim lighting as Choso strokes himself through his high.

You on the other hand…

“Cho~ Can’t cum without you here.” you hum coyly, slightly whiny yet not desperate - not yet.

“Get ready, baby. M’gonna be there in five.” Ah, how you loved when Choso video calls you.

♡ GOJO SATORU - The wallpaper fiend

Gojo Satoru loved to show off his wallpaper, babbling about his “beautiful girlfriend” as he flashed the picture to any and everyone he came across.

It wasn’t anything strange, really - just a slightly blurry photo of the upper half of your head, eyes slightly scrunched like you were in the depths of laughter. It’s only when someone stares too hard, finger pressing just a bit too long that Gojo snatches back his phone with an unreadable little smirk.

Because if they had they’d notice it was a live wallpaper.

One that - despite being so proudly the great Gojo Satoru’s wallpaper - was for only his eyes to see. One where the camera shifts ever-so-slightly downwards to show you splayed out deliciously on your mattress, pale, sculpted thighs straddling your face - zooming in on the way your swollen lips bulge wraps so lewdly around his throbbing cock.

“Oh, sweetheart, jus’ look at you.” his voice rumbles from above, voice hoarse with desire. “Taking my cock so well, huh?”

All he gets are muffled groans, tears glistening in your eyes as Gojo shoves his length deeper down your throat. He chuckles lightly, fucking into your hot mouth in small grinds of his hips, “Oh yeah, forgot you can’t speak sweetheart.”

Ah, what a smug bastard. And despite the dick lodged in your throat, you find it in yourself to stare up defiantly into his greedy gaze, moaning sinfully around him. That makes that confident facade crumble a little, the camera is shaky as Gojo lets out a broken little, “Sh-shit. You’re really asking for it.”

And maybe you were a mastermind - maybe you were an idiot. Because Gojo pulls his hips back till his leaking tip is just kissing your kiss-bitten lips. Smearing his precum around your glossy mouths. Only to slam back into you mercilessly, forcing you to relax your throat - because Gojo’s had enough of playing game

His searing grip on your scalp just out of the frame as he fucks into your mouth like his personal toy. Not stopping till your nose is pressed into the snowy white tufts of hair at his pelvis.

Camera scrambling to capture the way your throat bulges so obscenely as he fills you up, starting to fuck into you in shallow, mindless little thrusts. “Mmm, ngh. Fuck, sweetheart. Can feel me inside you right…” A large, veiny hand makes its way into the video as it wraps around your throat, squeezing. Tight. “...here.” Gojo rasps over your choked-up moans.

Tears were streaming down your face now, nails digging desperately into the hand wrapped around your throat. But it seems Gojo had no care in the world for them. Because he coos mockingly, “Awww, don’ cry, sweetheart. Jus’ look at that slutty mouth of yours, sucking the fucking soul out of me.”

And as the screen grows grainier, the camerawork more shaky - Gojo’s hips grow more frantic.

Cock hitting the back of your throat at a maddening cadence in a way he wishes the camera could pick up. Hand tightening around your throat as he fucks into you faster and deeper. Hip chasing the feeling of your tongue wrapped so deliciously around his throbbing cock. Delicately tracing the veins along the side, flicking his sensitive slit just the way you know he likes. Over and over-

The screen flashes white - or maybe that was just Gojo’s cum. Shooting thick, endless spurts of his seed that paint your pretty face white. And oh, this was his favorite part, how you take it so well.

Your tongue darting out to catch the stream of cum that gushes out of him, pooling it on your tongue before letting it slide to the back of your throat. Eyes gazing up so eagerly into his as you stick your tongue out to show, well, nothing. Taking him up so greedily.

And if Gojo was any less of a man, he’d be showing this off to everyone he knew. And in the end, before the wallpaper goes back to that seemingly innocent picture of your face - if he turned up the volume real high - Gojo could hear his voice in the background, breathing out through ragged gasps. “C’mon, sweetheart, I wanna make a few more wallpapers.”

A/N. LMAO this came to me when I thought about how Gojo is the type to have a polaroid of your tits behind his phone case.

Plagiarism not authorized.

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it-was-summer · 15 days ago

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Buy Me Presents, Baby

A/N: Minors; DNI. I DONT CAREEE I WANT HIM!! Anyways, this may or may not be based on true events in my life. If you're reading this also know that I wrote this Christmas Eve and it is now 5am on Christmas Day, the powerhouse of lust. Hope you guys like this because I DID NOT proofread this AT ALL!! I mention the pill (oral contraception), so sorry if this is an issue, I'm just a girl. I KNOW there is a typo in here... i know it. Merry Christmas!! My gift is porn!!- Love you, Em

edit- the typo was fully in the title… go to bed at a reasonable time kids.

Link to the Ao3: Buy Me Presents, Baby Link to the: Yee olde masterlist Tags: Woof uhh okay! newly established relationship, Christmas sex, Spanking, Creampie, PnV sex, Reader gets called girl.. I apologize, Oral contraceptives are mentioned at the end, lingerie, that one bow lingerie... yall know which on I'm talking about?, That ONE!! WITH THE BOW YES!!, I had to use the word pussy.. IM SORRT IM NOT HAPPY ABOUT It, dirty talk, cock this cock that, not proofread, merry christmas.

Genre: Porn, no plot. Some fluff? Pairing: Established relationship!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: You and Spencer exchange gifts for Christmas, and one of your gifts happens to be a little physical.

Word Count: 3,669

Spencer doesn’t know what’s gotten into you.

Though the longer he thinks about it, he should have seen the signs of your recent… restlessness. Being in the BAU came with its challenges, and one of these challenges was— of course— being away from home. Usually, the two of you would find a special time that worked for both of you to meet up and spend some well-deserved time together.

Lately, it has felt like the world was against you, though. Every time you had free time, he’d plan a date night with you, only for him to be called away on a case. The one time you planned a date, you came down with a cold. The cycle kept repeating in a million different annoying ways.

The cherry on top? It was almost Christmas. It's nearly Christmas, and neither of you has seen each other for a good three weeks— it’s miserable.

So imagine his excitement when his phone doesn’t ring early Saturday morning. When he steps out of his shower, he checks it again— nothing. He’s beaming when he calls you, your sleepy voice answering him before he says, “Dinner tonight?”

There’s a pause, followed by some rustling, “You’re free?”

“Mhm,” He hums with a grin, grabbing his glasses from the case and placing them gracefully on his face.

He can hear the excitement in your voice. " You want to exchange presents?” He remembers the playful tone in your voice when you said it, but at the time, he thought nothing of it. He chuckles softly before agreeing, saying a sweet goodbye, and hanging up the phone.

Dinner begins and ends at your place, decorated in lights and festive trinkets, and presents wrapped neatly under the fake tree in the corner of your living room. The gift exchange went smoothly; you got Spencer some reading essentials, followed by a special edition of one of his favorite books. Spencer, in turn, had bought you a pair of earrings you pointed out back in November and a framed copy of your favorite painting.

It was getting late now, with a warm cup of tea in his hands, you turned and whispered in a playful voice, “I still have one more gift for you.”

His eyebrows raised at that, bending his head to look at you as you sat with your back pressed against his chest, “More? After the special edition Tolstoy?”

“More. I was saving it for the twenty-fifth, but…” You trail off, your eyes leaving his as you glance toward your bedroom. “I could go get it ready now?”

Spencer smiles, thinking about it momentarily before he decides that he might not be home for Christmas. He mutters a soft “Yeah, okay.”

You stand up quickly, an excited look in your eyes when you tell him, “Okay, stay here!” And then you’re gone.

Spencer’s watching your bedroom door close with a faint smile. He stretches as he waits, his tea finished, when he hears you call out for him, “You can come in now!”

He stepped into your room with nothing but good intentions, that is, until he saw you lying on your bed in lingerie. Maroon satin material lays smooth against your skin, and the shape of a tantalizing bow teases him at the center of your chest and your underwear— barely there.

He clears his throat in a vain attempt to appear calm and collected, though he’s sure you can see his blushing cheeks and growing arousal. He opens his mouth to speak, but the words die in the back of his throat when you sit up on your elbows, pushing your breast out toward him a little more with an innocent tilt of your head. “You don’t like it?”

His voice cracks when he says, “No! I mean— that is to say, I do like it! I mean, I’m sure you can see how much I–” He nervously adjusts his sweater, shaky hands pulling at the collar.

You let out a soft hum, relaxing a little. " Are you going to stand by the door the whole time, or?” You tease him with a low laugh.

He quickly walks closer, shaking his head as he gets closer to the edge of the bed. The bed dips as he climbs onto the edge of the bed. He watches as you roll on your side to adjust for him, waiting until he is lying beside you before you whisper, “If you don’t want to, it’s okay–”

“I do! I do. It’s just we’ve only–” He motions between the two of you slowly, replacing the word. “A few times, and I wasn’t expecting,” His eyes trail down to your chest, his fingers twitching– itching to feel the material against his palm.

When he looks back into your eyes, you smile at him with a little sigh, “I know. I just saw it, and I thought of you.”

Spencer feels like his entire body is on fire when you say that. His pants become increasingly uncomfortable as he croaks softly, “That made you think of me?”

You hum a sweet-sounding “Mhm,” you lick your lips, “Cognitive association, right?”

Spencer thinks you’ll break him with the way you’re talking to him; your voice is low and quiet, clearly amused. He holds back a sound when he feels your hand take his and guide it to your barely clothed hip. For some reason, he wants to spew some facts about cognitive association, but in a rare moment, his mind goes blank.

His mind slows, and the only thing he can process is the feeling of satin material against your body. He drags his hand along your side, higher and higher, until his fingers trace the bra’s underwire. His eyes flicker over to yours as he leans in, pressing a slow kiss to your lips.

Kissing Spencer always starts soft, tender, and languid. It then slowly devolves into something passionate, heated, rough– something you adore. And you’re starting to feel the shift in this kiss, his tongue slightly grazing your bottom lip– a silent plea you happily fulfill, parting your lips to let his tongue tentatively enter the kiss.

You’re smiling into the kiss, shifting with him so you’re under him before grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him deeper into the kiss. Spencer lets out a tiny sound of surprise against your lips at the rough movement, and he pulls away slightly, his lips barely touching yours when he says, “So aggressive,” His tone teasing as he captures your lips in another giddy kiss.

With your eyes closed and mouth occupied, your hands get to work. Blindly, you pull the bottom of his sweater, your lips only leaving his to help him pull the piece of clothing off his body. He’s eager to get his lips back on yours, his tongue resuming its work against yours, a kiss that makes your head spin and thoughts go hazy with how intense it feels.

You move your legs up and around his hips, pushing his hips down to yours with ease. Spencer whines into the kiss, his lips moving slowly against yours until he pulls away to kiss your jawline. His hips grind down onto yours, your breath hitching at the feeling.

Feeling his hardness through his pants makes you realize just how badly you need him, and it seems it does the same for him. His lips latch onto the lower side of your neck, sucking and licking softly at the sensitive area as his hips grind against yours harder.

The feeling makes your core squeeze around nothing; the new desire to get something, anything, inside you plants a seed in your lower abdomen. You feel shamefully needy as Spencer continues leaving light red and purple marks on the sensitive skin of your neck, his breathing heavy as he decorates you with marks.

You’re surprised to see that he’s actually moving lower, his markings getting closer to your collarbone when he pulls away, looking up at you with those lust-filled honey eyes, “May I?” The tips of his fingers tug lightly at the satin red bow covering your breasts.

Your legs leave his hips as he pulls the bow apart with a simple flick of his wrist. His eyes stay trained on your breast as he takes one into his hand and gently rubs at your nipple, eliciting a soft, quiet moan from you, “So pretty,” Then he dips his head lower to bring your left nipple into his mouth, licking at the sensitive bud with precision.

A sound— embarrassingly loud— escapes your lips at the feeling, your body squirming against his. You’re sure you can feel him smiling against your breast, his right hand moving to your right nipple, pinching it lightly.

Your fingers latch onto his hair, gently running them through his hair and occasionally pulling when his tongue does something particularly amazing against the bud of your nipple. You can feel electric arousal coursing through you, soft moans and sighs leaving you with every touch.

However, he’s pulling his lips away from your breast soon after, his cheeks red as he mutters a low, “Need to make sure you cum,” And you find yourself nodding in agreement as his hands leave your breast, pulling the lingerie’s satin thong to the side as he swipes two fingers along your entrance.

You let out a little sigh, feeling incredibly needy as his fingers brush against your clit teasingly. “Did dressing up like this make you this wet, or did I?” He asks, his fingers curiously leading back down to your entrance.

Shifting under him, you let out a breathless chuckle, “A bit of both,”

He grins at that, his head now to the side of yours, his thumb pressing against your clit slowly as he slides a finger inside you. You tense for a second with pleasure before relaxing as the feelings, his finger gently curling inside of you as his thumb presses down harder on your swollen bundle of nerves. “You’ve been fantasizing about this for weeks, haven’t you?”

His voice against your ear isn’t something you expect, but you aren’t surprised for long as he slides a second finger into you— your thoughts turning to mush, “Yes,” You whisper, your back arching slightly at his fingers move faster inside you, curling and pleasing you at a medium pace.

Spencer lets out a low hum, his eyes watching you as you get lost in pleasure, his thumb pressing against your clit a little harder as he finds that sweet little spot inside of you. He can feel the way your walls tighten around his fingers, and he’s envious of his own hand, wishing it was his cock instead.

Your moans only add to personal envy, his fingers moving and caressing your G-spot with greater precision. He tries not to groan, watching you arch your back off the bed. A cry followed by a string of heightened gasps from you has him wholly enraptured.

When his fingers start to get rough inside you, you’re already seeing stars, your left hand reaching over to grab onto Spencer’s bicep at the feelings, fingers gently digging into his skin as your body shakes. “Love watching you get close,” Spencer groans softly against your ear.

His lips slowly resume their markings on your neck, and the added stimulation sends you falling over the edge with a loud cry of pleasure. Your body shakes against him, and your high-pitched moans, accompanied by heavy panting, have pride swelling in his chest as his fingers help you ride out your orgasm.

His fingers only stop when your body goes slack, his lips leaving your neck to gently kiss at your lips— a gesture you return lazily. The feeling of his fingers leaving you has you feeling empty, but you’re quickly distracted as Spencer drags his soaked fingers to his lips. Your eyes widen for a second as you watch your boyfriend lick off every bit of you on them, “Let me get a taste,” Your voice is soft as Spencer leans in, kissing you fast and rough. Your tongue drags along his to get a second-hand taste of yourself in his mouth.

You’re quick to pull away, your hands hooking into the belt loop of his pants, gently yanking at the loop. Spencer laughs at the feeling, and he looks into your eyes with a shameful look— lustful and pleading. You know how badly he wants to dive straight in, but his determination to make you cum too many times to count usually gets in the way of his cock.

“Haven’t seen you in three weeks. You can make it up to me later.” You joke softly, your fingers undoing the top button with ease.

Spencer grins as he slides his pants down his legs, kicking them off. He finds himself blushing at how your eyes shamefully stare at the outline of his cock in his boxers, precum already wetting some of the fabric. He finds himself doing the same with you, though, his eyes taking in the undone ribbon of the lingerie at your sides, the way your legs are parted to give him a delicious view of your dripping sensitive folds.

Your fingers slip into the waistband of his boxers, gently tracing his cock with your fingers, a soft, pleasured sigh leaving his lips at the feeling. “So hard,” You mutter, leaning up to kiss a part of Spencer’s jaw.

Spencer lets out a low hum of agreement. Being as busy as he has been, he hasn’t found time for any kind of sexual release as of late. “It’s been a little while since I’ve–”

“That’s okay,” You sigh sensually, your hands wrapping around his dick slowly, “Take off your boxers.”

Spencer’s more than happy to comply, hurriedly discarding his boxers at your request. He watches as you pull your hand off him to take off your underwear, and Spencer squeaks out a nervous, “Leave it on?”

Grinning, you nod, your fingers pushing the thong back to the side of him. He groans at the action, looming over you now, his hands on either side of you. “Flip over,”

A jolt of excitement runs through you at the request, quickly flipping over on your stomach for him. A pleased sound leaves your lips as his hand moves to pull your hips up, forcing your back to arch for him. He slides his thumb and index inside the sting on your thong as he slowly rubs his cock in between your folds– the head of his cock gently kissing your clit.

The worst part about being in an established relationship and having just started having sex with your partner is the anxiety that follows you after you say something risky. Your lips part nonetheless, your hips pushing back against him quickly, “That’s right, get that cock wet with my pussy.”

You were never dull during sex, but Spencer was not expecting something so vulgar to fall from your lips. His hips stutter against yours before he finds himself incredibly turned on by the sudden confidence and vulgarity in your words. His hands yank your hips back roughly, lining himself up to inch himself inside of you slowly.

About halfway inside you, he pulls out till it is just the tip and then repeats the motion— it’s infuriatingly hot. You let out a soft whine at his toying with you and start to move your hips back against him, but that is met with a surprising spank to your ass.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips at the feelings before you blink, lifting your head to peer at him over your shoulder and whisper a little, “Harder,”

Seeing your half-lidded eyes looking over at him, your soft lips begging him to spank you harder, Spencer feels a shiver shoot down his spine. He’s sure he can feel himself grow harder as he pushes deeper into your pussy and delivers a solid smack to your ass with the flat of his palm.

He then follows the motion with a comforting rub of his hand against the swell of your ass. For a second, he’s worried about hurting you or making you uncomfortable– unexplored territory. The feeling of your walls tightening around him for a second, fluttering in a way that has him bottoming out inside you without hesitation, reassures him.

“God,” He huffs as he sets a pace, his hand occasionally delivering a hard spank to your ass whenever he feels your hips moving with his. You feel terrific; the feel of your reddening ass under his hand, the soft skin of your hip in his other, he’s surprised that he isn’t drooling.

You, however, are starting to feel yourself beginning to drool. Moans and groans coming from the two of you has your head spinning, the rough feeling of Spencer’s hips against yours making your legs feel weak.

Spencer pulls all the way out as he feels himself getting close, his soaked cock resting against your ass– the sight is something has him letting out a shaky sigh. He doesn’t need to say anything before you’re flipping over on your back again, legs spread and lips wet as you mutter a needy sounding, “More.”

Spencer can’t find it in himself to deny you or himself, moving closer to you and lining himself up with your entrance again. As he sinks into you, you move your legs up, your hands holding the back of your knee. The new position lets him sink in deeper, and Spencer’s sure you’re an angel.

You’re practically sucking him in, his breathing getting heavier as he moves against you, His eyes dipping between your face and between your legs– intelligent eyes watching the way his cock disappears deep inside of you. “You take it so well.”

His hands reach up slowly, tracing the back of your thighs before replacing your hands at the back of your knee, bending your legs back further. He places a chaste kiss on your forehead, the gentle gesture leaving your head reeling when accompanied by this immense pleasure.

You gasp out at the slight burn of your thighs, toes curling slightly, when Spencer starts to roll his hips in fast, tight circles. The roll of his hips makes his cock hit your G-spot, your eyes rolling back at the feeling as a guttural-sounding groan joins the lewd sounds leaving your lips.

Spencer takes that as his sign to snap his hips into yours, his forehead pressing against yours as he moans and whines. “You feel so fucking good. I’ll never leave again.”

You can feel your lower abdomen tighten quickly at the rough movements. A shaky laugh leaves you at his mention of never leaving, but words fail you as you cry out. The past few times the two of you have had sex, he was never this rough. You aren’t complaining, but his frantic, rapid thrusts are leaving you with the feeling that you’ll beg for a repeat sometime in the future.

A long whine leaves you as you feel yourself getting closer, your hands holding tight on Spencer’s shoulders, your body jolting slightly with his rough thrusts. “So good! You’re fucking me so good. Please, don’t stop.” You beg without shame, “Need to cum, make me cum again.” You beg through moans.

Spencer almost cums inside you upon hearing your begging, but he holds off— a new mission in focus. He slows for a second, moving one of your hands off his shoulder and under your knee before he slides his hand down to your aching clit. His thumb makes quick, tight, hard circles without warning— the scream that leaves your chest has him worried for your neighbors.

“That’s it, tighten around me like that.” He pants out from above you, his eyes locking onto yours as he speaks. He watches the way your eyebrows raise in pleasure, and your mouth starts to let out a mix of silent screams and loud groans. “You look pretty when you cum around my cock, my pretty girl.”

Your legs are shaking with that, the coil in your abdomen snapping with force as you bite your bottom lip to try and silence the sound of your orgasm– a groan that almost sounds inhuman. Spencer’s quick to follow, his hips roughly snapping into yours with his thumb continuing its torment on your sensitive clit.

The feeling of overstimulation has you letting out a weak-sounding whine, almost a sob. You’re gasping hard as he keeps going, frenzied thrusts that have your free hand gripping the sheet tight until he bottoms out in you with a shaking groan. His hips thrust into you a few more times as he empties himself into you, shaking hard.

A moment passes with neither of you moving, your legs moving down to the bed, and the realization sets in. Spencer looks at you with wild eyes, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking–”

You laughed weakly and held up a hand, “Spencer, it’s okay.” Your voice sounds a little raw as you relax into your bed slightly, with him still hovering over you. “I’m on the pill, remember?”

“Well, when taken correctly, it’s 99% effective, but if you’ve forgotten a day lately, it’s only 93%.” He pouts lightly when a giggle leaves your lips, but he smiles against his better judgment. “I’m serious, what if…”

“I doubt it will, but if it does come to that, we’ll deal with it.” You mutter, slowly reaching a hand up to rake your fingers through his messy brown hair. “Clean me up?”

Spencer notes how your voice sounds: shy and a little desperate. He tilts his head, a playful smile on his face as his eyes trail down to your parted thighs, “Insatiable this evening, I see,” He jokes as he begins to lower himself, soft fingers rubbing against your inner thighs.

You groan in faux annoyance before you feel his breath fanning against your inner thighs, “Merry Christmas,” You tease softly.

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princessbrunette · 4 months ago

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⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … JUNO ♡

track ten of the short n’sweet series. pairing: linecook!jj x reader. based loosely on the song juno by sabrina carpenter. enjoy! ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა

when jj comes home from his shift, you’re sat at the kitchen table wearing your little slip dress, a crease between your brows and a bunch of papers infront of you.

you barely even notice him come in, jumping slightly when he leans over and presses a kiss to your cheek in passing, still smelling like the stove at work. “howdy, baby.” he greets, characteristically chipper even when he’s probably exhausted.

“hi jayj.” stress tugs every chord in your voice, bringing your nail to your teeth to nibble on. you hated bringing up bills, especially when he’d just done a long day at work — it made you feel bad. however, you’d spent the evening going over your purchases and working out the split between the two of you. the papers had been on the table for three days now, and you needed his help in working it all out.

“you alright? ‘sound upset.” he converses as he places a grocery bag down on the counter, assumably having made a stop before he got home. he turns to you, hands on his hips giving you his full attention.

“y—yeah…it’s just…” you tilt your head sympathetically with a guilty expression as you look at him, as if to say ‘i’m sorry to bring this up’. you were always overly apologetic. “these bills have been sat here for three days and i really feel like we should handle them.”

he visibly relaxes as soon as he realises that’s the problem, waving you off and turning back to the counter to continue unpacking. “oh, don’t sweat — i covered them all this mornin’.”

“what?” you blink.

he glances at you over his shoulder, like it’s nothing. “my bad, forgot to mention— uh, yeah. made a lot of dough at work this month, been reeling in the tips. figured i’d just get ‘em done.”

you sigh, standing up. “jesse james i am sending you my side of the money right now—” you scramble for your phone and he laughs, turning round to grab your wrists gently.

“aint i supposed to look after you? this is what i wanted. trust me. all you gotta do is sit there and look pretty. let papa j handle the rest, alright?” he smiles, giving you a teasing little shake before patting your cheek and turning back to the counter. you were stunned, something primal and warm clawing its way out of the deep insides of your arousal. it may have seemed like nothing to him, but to you — well, you thought he deserved the world.

before you get to speak, or thank him. he’s back to chatting. “anyways, you eaten?”

“wh— no, not yet i was trying to get all these bills worked out and i forgot—”

“aw baby, you know how i feel ‘bout you not eating. luckily for you, ‘ya man’s a chef. si’ddown.”

“jj, don’t be silly you just got home and you paid the bills i should be making you din—”

“sit…your cute ass down.” he turns around, pointing a stick of celery at you threateningly. slowly, you lower yourself into the chair— bug eyed and in love. once you’re seated he smiles in satisfaction with a nod and turns back to his groceries, gathering the ingredients. “remember how you said last night that you were cravin’ spaghetti? well, i ran to the store after work and i’mma whip up the best spaghetti you’ve ever tried.”

“oh my god, jj. you’re too good to me.” you sigh, doe eyed. the relief of everything being taken off your shoulders was overwhelming, even if it was riding on a subtle pit of guilt. jj was always looking after everyone, even back in the days where he had nothing.

so, he makes you food whilst you sit at the table. he tells you about his day, you tell him about yours. he sits at your side, forks spaghetti into your mouth, tells you you’re pretty until you’re certain there’s red and pink lovehearts floating above your head. you had to repay him, and you knew a way mutually beneficial to the two of you.

when he’s washing up the dishes, which he insisted on doing — jj is borderline jumpscared by the clinking sound of you slinging something over his shoulder to dangle it infront of him.

“now where the hell did you get those?” he chuckles at the pink fuzzy handcuffs you’re showing off.

“nevermind where i got them. you’re coming with meeee.” you giggle, pressing yourself to his back, dotting kisses wherever you could reach. he slowly spins around with a smirk, eyeing your mischievous expression.

“a’ight i see what’s goin’ on… that time of the month already huh? you photosynthesising?”

“what?”

“y’know that time of the month where you get real horny?”

“ovulating?”

“yeah, that’s the one.”

“no…” you tilt your head, batting your lashes as you try to get a hold of his wrists, the blonde too busy cupping your cheeks with his damp hands. “well, maybe. but that’s not the point. you’ve been looking after me so well lately, i just wanna look after you.” you pout, and he blinks — raising his eyebrows as he grips the metal chains between his fingers.

“oh you— so i’m gonna be wearing these bad boys?” his voice lilts up in non-judgemental confusion.

“yep.” you beam. you couldn’t dominate a bag of flour, as jj so gracefully put once — but you figured atleast not letting him touch you could be fun.

jj returns your grin, always down for anything. “alrighty, take me away officer!” he offers his wrists proudly, letting you lead him to the bedroom.

twenty minutes later, and he’s now seeing the point of the handcuffs. had they not been there, he would have flipped you on your back by now — have your knees to your chest, taking over completely. but there you were, torturing him. your supple body straddles him, stark naked and glowing under the dim light of your bedroom, glossy walls swallowing him, choking his shaft as you grind like your life depends on it. your pretty moans are all he can hear as he tugs his wrists against their constraints, desperate to touch you.

“c’mon, lemme— god damn— lemme negotiate here. what can i do to… just lemme touch you mama c’mon.” he strains, eyes struggling not to roll back.

“want a baby jj. wanna fuck a baby out of you.” you blurt out in a whine, setting his senses on fire. you’d talked about it, sure — but dropping it at a time like this had his heart pounding and balls tightening. the possibility was suddenly very real.

“you— now? you want it now, sweetie?” his voice cracks, wet lips parted.

“mhm. please.” it was sweet, watching you bounce on his dick all desperate and submissive despite having him handcuffed to the headboard. his dick just did that to you.

“shit, well — ain’t no backin’ out now baby. whether you like it or not it’s comin’.” he squeezes his eyes shut, letting you work him over inside you. it’s not long before he’s releasing, hot sticky fluids filling you until it’s spilling out — the sound of you continuing to ride him creating a leud squelching sound that you dimmed your own depraved whimpers just to hear better.

you knew he’d take care of you once more once you got those cuffs off him, but for now you could revel in the feeling of what could potentially have just changed your lives forever.

#short n’sweet series 🧁#jj maybank prompt #linecook!jj

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actuallyprobablyafaerie · 1 year ago

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list of things that made me scream in pjo episode 3

Percy picking grover because he trusts him not to betray him!!! THEY ARE BEST FRIENDS OK

Luke still comes off as so likable and inconspicuous that whole convo he had with percy and the shoes i just

GROVER AND THE CONSENSUS SONG I CANT

annabeth staring at the different flavors of candy in the gas station and not being able to pick and just buying all of them. Thats the annabeth we deserve

ANNABETHS KNIFE APPEARANCE ALERT and a fury is IMMEDIATELY killed

uncle ferdinand foreshadowing……………

When annabeth and percy start arguing in the woods and grover tries to change the subject by talking about his uncle and they both completely ignore him. I LOVE GROVER SO MUCH

the bickering in this episode is ON POINT by the way

like the stuff theyre arguing about makes sense. Yes i would be concerned about those things too

ESPECIALLY since theres such a focus put on trust (esp after percy learns that someone is going to betray him) and percy and annabeth are arguing about stuff theyve lied or havent told each other about???? Sorry that might be skipping ahead a bit but GOD is that the good stuff

i love that they changed how the three of them ended up going into auntie em’s because before it was a little concerning that none of them figured out it was medusa. Plus having a fury outside just adds to the tension a perfect amount i think, because it really traps them in there

all the discussion about the gods and what medusa talks to percy about in the kitchen - YES MAKE ME HATE THEM!! All of this is adding up to lukes motivations making so much sense in the end

ALSO!! Them harkening back to sallys line in the first episode when she tells percy that not all heroes look like heroes and not all monsters look like monsters - they brought it back so perfectly. Percy wanting to trust medusa because of what his mom said, medusa calling Poseidon a monster, ALL OF IT is so good

When theyre down in the basement and grover puts on the shoes and then just fucking. Flies away and disappears into the darkness yelling a little. and annabeth and percy just kind of helplessly watch him go before being like - welp i guess that plans not working. That was peak comedy

them using annabeths hat on medusa and then using it to kill alecto THEY WERE SO SMART FOR THAT!!! Also percy just the invisible severed head was a hilarious concept to me

when percy suggests burying the hat in the ground with the hat on to make sure no one bad finds it and annabeth just!!! Agrees!!! And then grover has to be like no that hats important to her its a gift from her mother!!! And then percys like well we’ll find another solution then. That whole scene was good yes i liked that

also annabeth revealing that grover was her protector too and percy asks about it and grover just changes the subject and doesnt answer. He is the KING of avoidance

also grover finally interrupting annabeth and percy when they start fighting and giving his whole speech about getting along. That wouldve felt a little cheesy and preachy and out of place from anyone else but considering grover tried to get them to sing the consensus song a few hours earlier i fully believe that he would say that

I AM IMPERTINENT

Why the fuck wasnt there a lin manuel maranda jumpscare warning. I couldve used one of those

but actually all the jokes in this episode were so on point. Like percy calling drachmas chuckie cheese tokens. And him arguing about voting on the bus. Anyways

10/10 episode i will be rewatching like eight times before next tuesday.

#Pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #Annabeth chase #the lightning thief #Grover underwood #percy jackson spoilers

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

Note

First off I LOVE your writing, I’m so happy you’re taking requests again so, may I please request something with Ghost? Like the reader is part of the 141 and Ghost has a soft spot for her and is very protective of her and both having feelings for each other but not saying anything bc both think the other one deserves better or just something like that🥹😮‍💨💖🙏🏻 feel free to keep practicing smut for this one!👀✨

You’re awesome 🥰💞

Blood Was Its Avatar

PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Getting close to you was never his plan, but when he can't stop his self-protective instincts from pushing you away, will he be able to repair your strange friendship? Or will his body have to speak for him? (18+)

WORD COUNT: 8.9k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, wounds, stitches, death, smut, p in v, throat f-ing, degradation, dom/sub dynamics, implied pain kink, hair pulling, hate sex? but not really?, semi-clothed sex, vulgar language, fluff at the end, etc. just pure filth.

A/N: This is sub-par because I was up until 4 in the morning today and didn't have the energy to edit in-depth lmfao, but enjoy Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

All of Ghost’s problems started and ended with you. He was impressed with that fact, actually.

They call you ‘Masque’ on account of the mission from years back, ‘07 Ghost recalls easily. When you’d been pinned down and surrounded, the dead bodies of your unit all around your feet. You’d chosen to act while the others had been yelling orders over the radio—rooting around the pooling blood on the ground and slathering your face with it; your body.

You pretended to be dead.

Quick thinking, Ghost had told you with a glint in his eye when you’d gotten back, those whites of your eyes ten times more noticeable. Like the moon hanging around a crimson-drowned sky.

You’d cursed him out and said of course it was, quoting some poem from Edgar Allen Poe as a joke.

“Blood was its Avatar and its seal—the redness and the horror of blood.” The Masque of the Red Death. Your claim to survival apparently, as you had just read it a day before.

Ghost said you were bloody fucking crazy and found his eyes darkly watching the way you smirked at him. How the dried blood on your lips would splinter at your loud chuckle as you both entered the C17.

As he knew—all of his problems started and ended with you. Today was no different.

“Damn! Lookin’ good today Ghost, are those new gloves I spy?” You were always so…bubbly.

“Masque,” the masked-man greats blandly, not even sparing you a look as you enter the meeting room. The screen on the far wall was hooked up to Price’s computer—broadcasting its news out into the dim lighting with images of mayhem and a loop of a video containing the bombing of an embassy building in the Netherlands.

Profile pictures stain the screen of wanted subjects; captured or killed in the crossfire made no difference here, anyone could see it.

You drop down into the seat beside his own with a huff, body shed of your usual black gear, and wearing casual fatigues instead—your tags jump on your chest and Ghost sees them glint in the light.

Your face shifts into a smile, prodding with a bump of your elbow. The Lieutenant turns and glares dryly while you carry on, “I asked if you got new gloves; they’re nice.”

“Needed ‘em.” Ghost drawls, seeing no way out of this as he glances around at the multitude of other free seats. No one else was here yet, and Price had needed to step out for a moment to grab another report from his office one floor up.

A small grunt echoes from his throat before his eyes dart back to yours. Shifting in his seat, his lax posture tenses before loosening.

Raising a brow at Ghost, you stifle a laugh.

“That’s it?” He blinks at you slowly, those bright blues trapping you as they shine out from his skeletal visage; his great body hidden under layers of Kevlar and thick canvas cloth. Like some weird and deadly present. You tease him, “No attempt at a conversation, Ghosty? That hurts.”

You sarcastically put a hand to your chest.

“Then suffer.” Ghost states like he’s reading the newspaper, stretching out one of his wrists by rolling it until it cracks the joints. Where was everyone else? “I’m not fuckin’ talking about bloody gloves, Masque.”

“It’s called a conversation starter!” Under the mask, he raises a dull eyebrow. You glower at him, but the smirk on your lips shows how much you enjoy this.

“For who? Could have jus’ stayed quiet, then.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes and indulge him—pointedly going silent. Almost immediately an awkward nothingness covers the room with its metaphorical blanket and Ghost’s muscles slowly go stiff as he crosses his arms slowly over his chest. You bite your lip and stamp down a snort.

A minute spreads like molasses. Two. Three. Five.

“Alright,” Ghost growls, breaking as you pick at your cuticles, humming horribly off-tune to a point where the Lieutenant’s ears were ringing and annoyance faired. “Fucking hell stop it, just say something already to shut up that noise. Sounds like my damn brakes squealin’.”

You stop and laugh loudly, elbowing him again as he jerks away with a low grunt. Blue flashes, and his heart pounds.

“Jeez, Lieutenant, is my humming that bad for you?” The air rolls with tension.

“More effective than torture.” Ghost utters, his Manchester drawl violent and thick as it coats your ears. You take no offense—you’d been doing it on purpose, anyways; always the one to exploit cracks in the concrete. You'd found out a lot through your studies of the man beside you. Mostly, all of the small tics and unique qualities that made Ghost such a strange character.

On the battlefield, the large man was resilient and patient. He could wait in one spot for days if he had to, sitting for a perfect shot. Nothing could break the line of purpose and authority he had over the units he was placed in or his fighting spirit. Gunbattles, torture, you name it he’d survived it.

But he disliked anything below scalding hot tea, detested his objects and packs being messed with…and clenched his hidden jaw at small, repetitive, noises.

Low, horrible, humming, tapping fingers, tongues clicking over and over. You had no idea why, but the sight of making this experienced and handsome man glare at you with annoyance made your face heat up.

You chuckle in the meeting room, eyes crinkling up at him before you reach for one of the pens and notepads on the table. Clicking the bottom, you shrug and start to scribble nothing into the side margins as blue ink bleeds like foreign blood.

“What’s Price got for us today, then?” Your voice echoes, “We shipping out with the others or going Black again?”

The Captain usually paired the two of you up for Black Ops for a reason—Ghost the strategic mastermind to your reckless bloodlust. Push and pull.

Missions were rarely a failure.

Ghost sighs, finally getting the sensation of control back into him. “Black,” he begins, “least for us. Old Man’s sending Garrick and Johnny out in hopes of drawin’ a few bastards out first. Netherlands. We slip in the back—off the books, ‘course.”

He watches you from the side of his eye, gaze following your pen as you sketch out a small stick figure with a skull for a face. Ghost stifles a huff as he scratches at the side of his face.

“Well, of course,” you slyly tease, glancing at him before looking back to your pad. “Are we getting any soldiers?”

“None. Just us.”

“Ooo,” Ghost watches your lips curl and feels his body slowly still. “Sounds like fun.”

“It sounds like I’m going to have to babysit again,” you laugh again and dark blue seems to spark with some strange emotion. Ghost clears his throat and takes down a breath.

“Oh, please,” you chuckle, “I’ve saved your hide a few times before, Ghosty, be nice to me.”

“Nice isn’t in the job description, Masque.”

“Well, it isn’t for you, grumpy. I think Johnny and Gaz are lovely.” Your nose tilts up teasingly as Ghost grumbles like a cat. “But that’s alright, I like you anyways.” Winking, you go back to your pointless scribbling as footsteps echo from the hallway.

Ghost stares, his hands on the armrests slowly clenching into fists as he studies your expression. His eyes slid over scars and blemishes he’d already looked at a million times over, seeing in his mind’s eye the stains of blood and that every present smile—the burn of your presence beside him like a brand in his stomach. You never seemed to let him get too far away from you on Ops, but it wasn’t some form of obsession. It was worry; he’d seen it.

You didn’t like it when you couldn’t see his back ahead of yours. Ghost guessed it had to do with your lost unit. He never pressed it.

In fact, he’d noticed himself not eager to see you off himself. Had spent many a night in the onsite gym after missions because of it, where he’d given you the cold shoulder after. He didn’t like that feeling. That hesitation.

Ghost knew only to trust people as much as he had to…so why did he like when you said nice things to him? His jaw clenches, shoulders rolling to dispel tension as he rips his eyes away from your body as if you were fire incarnate. Your head perks up at the sound of talking voices getting closer to the meeting room.

Soap and Gaz enter a few moments later and Price shuffles in behind them. You smile warmly and greet them, shifting the notepad closer to yourself nonchalantly.

Ghost grunts and stays stationary, straightening up when he realizes he's slightly leaned toward you during your conversation. His new gloves pull taunt over his knuckles and he suddenly wants to rip them off.

—

You begin to wonder when you’ll be free from blood coating your fingers but know deep down you never will be. At least, not if this was how you’d be getting covered in it.

Sitting inside the hotel bedroom, you slowly extract a blood-coated bullet from Ghost's large thigh, grimacing when he grunts from over you. You’re in between his legs, kneeling, as the metal finally breaks free from the skin barrier—the entry wound is small but nonetheless dangerous. His pants were cut from thigh to knee, a long spit that showed pale, scarred skin.

Keeping a tight grip on the forceps, you hum under your breath in satisfaction.

“No bullet fragments—lucky you.”

Ghost forces out, “Yeah, feelin’ proper lucky.” You chuckle, moving back and dropping the bullet to a food plate you’d put on the floor. Shuffling, you take up the rag placed over your upper arm and bring it back up. Patting the gushing wound, you frown and think back on the events that got you here as the Lieutenant shifts and bites his tongue.

The intensity in his blue eyes burns into you, lungs deeply inhaling with a silent breath. Your fingers tingle, but you diligently press the fabric to the wound and try to ignore the heat from Ghost’s flesh or how his legs flinch with every trail of your nails. His muscles are pure iron around you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the position you’re in.

Swallowing stiffly, you sigh and notice him slightly shiver when your breath caresses his upper leg. You stop immediately, lips going tight.

It had been fifteen minutes earlier when Soap and Gaz had set up in a far more open and less secluded hotel three blocks away—directly across from the base location for your gaggle of targets. As planned, you and Ghost would be off the books and go in when they were too distracted by the Sergeants’ in plain sight.

Fire was supposed to be the cover story. Go in, take care of business, and set the place alight after the area was clear of civilians. But no one was counting on the targets being surrounded by three more friends.

Of course, guns lead to bullets and bullets to flesh. You can still hear the ringing in your head when Ghost had jerked you to the slide and shoved you behind the far wall—skull snapping back to look in horror as his leg exploded with gore.

Fucking bastard had been distracted by you and hadn’t had time to dodge. That wasn’t Ghost, but then again, Ghosty wasn’t quite the same, was he? Least, not to you.

“You’re a fool, you know that?” You huff, something swirling in your chest as your gloves peel the layer of cut pants farther down to see better. “You should have looked after yourself.”

“And what?” Ghost grumbles, letting you do what you wanted to him. “Let you get fuckin’ shot, Masque—you have a bloody death wish?” His last word comes off with a growl as you press tighter into his thigh.

His hand instantaneously snaps out to grasp the back of your hair tightly with an instinctual low groan. Naturally, a small whine exits your lips in retaliation.

You both freeze and the room jumps up to a hundred degrees; your lower body flips as your skin burns a million degrees. Fingers still, you feel your breath hitch when his calloused fingers scrape your scalp, your hair in his expansive palm. It was a pure reaction you knew, and when you’d asked him to let you help out with this problem you had thought this might happen—he’s a soldier after all, just like you.

But he hadn’t denied you. If anything, since six missions back, you were the only person who he wanted to work on him. He’d never said why.

You look up at him from the side, eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. Ghost’s heart skips beats before he clears his throat, snapping his hand back immediately and slamming it to the mattress. A second of strained silence settles where you both try to forget what the fuck just happened.

“Keep bloody going then,” He says, deep and grating to a point where you shove down a shiver. Your head feels light off of his scent, and you have to ask yourself why you’re feeling so feverish all of a sudden.

You bite your lip and nod, hand moving away to grab at the sanitized needle and thread with your forceps—dropping the rag back onto your forearm to let it hang. For once in your life you’re left mute by his actions.

Mute to the fact that you’d liked them.

Your face burns like a hidden fire; epidermis alight with the strength to rival the flames the two of you had started fifteen minutes ago. Lungs stutter and hands inside the gloves go clammy. It’s only after you were halfway done with the stitches that you mutter words.

“Shouldn’t have taken that bullet, Ghost.” He had been stone still the entire time, hands clenched beside him and his thighs like rocks. Feet firmly planted. It was like he was barely breathing, too.

Ghost blankly stares, staying quiet as you continue.

“You were distracted. That never happens.” His form was almost entirely shadowing you; great spanning shoulders from above tight like a looming statue. You dig the needle deeper with a push of the forceps, threading through yielding skin with quick punctures. He doesn’t even flinch.

Ever since ‘07, there was an obvious aversion to partners stemming from you. You distanced yourself from forming close bonds with those who you hadn’t already known. In many ways, Ghost and the others of One-Four-One were the closest you could get to people now.

Ghost, you admit, was far closer than all the others combined.

But this sentiment was known—both the aversion and the care you held. The Lieutenant wasn’t good with words, but he knew how to read you better than anyone; the way you carried yourself. He knew you didn’t like it when he got hurt in front of you.

Ghost had to ask why he even bothered to shove you out of the way, regardless. You would have been fine. So why had his eyes gone wide and his iris flared with a dead glow when he’d seen the gun swivel in your direction? The man grunts at a deep dig from your sutures but you continue to mutter to yourself as he glares at the far wall, venom-like.

His sin was that he had grown to care about you. His burden and his curse.

This couldn’t continue.

Ghost looks down at you with a sheen of distanced nonchalant-ness and when you lent back with a sigh of your lips, his body moved. You blink in surprise as you feel his muscles bunch and before you know it you’re being grabbed harshly by the arms and lightly shoved to the side.

“Ghost!” You snap, eyes narrowing dangerously as he stands to his feet—blood training down his thigh and kneecap before disappearing back under the stained cargos. “What the fuck?! I’m not done with it.”

Attempting to stomp closer, he swivels his head to you as his spine goes formal. Your feet stall from under you and your veins pump faster, forceps and slick gloves freezing mid-air.

You blink. He’d only ever looked at you like that when you’d first met.

Blue is a silent sheen of ice and cold death; black sockets behind his mask are more like voids holding chilled sapphires.

Why was he looking at you like he didn’t know you? Once more you say, confused and suddenly small, “Ghost?”

“Enough.” His voice was monotone and barky, the tone final. Your fingers tense at the sound. What…what was this? “You need to get your head back on, Masque. I can’t watch over you like a bloody Private every time you get stiff-legged, copy?”

Your jaw slackens. Inside, your heart smashes itself into your ribs in a violent pang. There’s a moment of complete and utter silence in which Ghost remains standing with concrete tied to his feet. He sees the flash of confused hurt in your eyes, the way your muscles jump for a moment.

A suffocating wave of regret strikes him, but he felt like he had to do this—keep up boundaries. Even if his throat was closing in an attempt to make him shut up.

Ghost’s accent makes him sound harsh and unforgiving. “Price’ll need us back in fifteen. Get your shit together.”

He bends down and snatches bandages with a quick hand, beelining to the bathroom and closing the door with a firm hand. Blankly, you stare at the barrier as the wall rattles; face burning—unable to speak beyond a small sound in the back of your mouth.

The two of you stay separated for the remainder of the time, not speaking, and not moving from your respective areas.

When Ghost finally leaves ten minutes after he’d pushed back the self-loathing and guilt, freshly bandaged, he finds your stuff already gone. He glances around the area slowly, taking in the wails of the fire trucks from blocks away and the neighboring rooms of the hotel as residents speak in mutters from behind walls. The air is cold and lifeless.

He grabs his things in total silence, swallowing down saliva paired with long breaths. Ghost’s eyes remain tight. Body wound and coated in rigidity that could rival a rhino’s armored plates.

Mind whirling, but still ever mute, he leaves the hotel and heads to the coordinates Price had given the two of you alone. The absence of your warm body beside his was more jarring than anything he’d expected to experience.

Ghost didn’t want to admit how many times his eyes trailed to the empty concrete at his left.

—

When you lose something in someone, you tend to lose it hard. Thus still, that was the case here. Ghost and you always jabbed at each other—it was in your nature to do so—but this was different. The Lieutenant could be cold, but…never to the extent to shove you away from helping him with his wounds.

Both of you always did that with the other, if that be physically or just being in the same room, while getting fixed up.

If Ghost didn’t want you around for whatever rage-inducing reason, you weren't going to grovel or beg. The sudden switch-up still stabbed you in the heart though.

On the second week, it got easier.

You passed by Ghost without a single comment, shifting into the meeting room once more. He grunts as you shimmy through the door right before him, his feet halting before he runs into you.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Masque, you lost your bloody eyes or something?” You don’t answer, blankly walking to the end of the table and taking the single chair with steady steps; sitting down and dragging a notepad to your general area.

Blinking, you look up at the projection and skim the small details they give over.

Ghost stares from the doorway, clenching his jaw. After a moment, he slips inside and slowly strides to the table.

The days had been difficult for him, struggling to re-situate himself to his isolation after you’d been with him for years. Sure he had Johnny, Gaz, and Price, but you were…

Ghost places a veiny hand on the back of a chair about four down from yours, knuckles white as he’d shed his gloves not five minutes ago. His eyes stay stuck to the tabletop, hips shifting. He hadn’t thought it would be this hard to push you out. Not only physically but mentally.

He found himself thinking of your face at night. Like a phantom, it would snap into his consciousness when the lights went out and the shadows got long. Your smile and your skin. How your fingers would gently press into his flesh when you were threading a needle through him—shivers of pleasure and pain intertwined by the scrape of your nails.

Ghost’s hand tightens on the chair, and you spare him a tense glance as he seemingly fights within his mind.

The Lieutenant wonders at your willpower and your drive. He spent the weeks hating that he had gotten what he wanted, and then he hated himself more because of that fact. It was good to keep you away from him. Not only for himself but for you.

You both were becoming too….attached. Ghost would have none of it. It had bled over into him using his own body to protect yours that was just…was just…

“...Those new tags, then?” You look away from the screen and shift your gaze to him as his voice bounces.

Around your neck, the new reflective metal of your new dog tags glint. Your heart skips when he speaks to you, but he still doesn’t look your way.

“That an apology?” Deadpanning, your unimpressed gaze glares into his face as his hand strangles the chair.

The room returns to strained silence. You huff.

“Pretty shitty one there, asshat.” Ghost’s shoulders roll under his gear, a great sigh quickly exiting him. Everyone had noticed the tension over time—it was becoming a detriment to the team.

The Lieutenant’s blue eyes darken, and in his body, a great heat was beginning to burn. Just looking at you provoked lucid and vulgar thoughts, and as the dim light from the projector makes shadows on your face, Ghost traces them with a chained desire. Being away from you was a physical pain to him, but he also knew that being around you was worse.

All of Ghost’s problems may have started and ended with you, but they also grew in his own head. They’d been there in the back corners ever since he’d given you your nickname; found out he liked the way your face was wet with spilled blood and sweat. Your body. Your hands on the hard flesh of his upper thigh…trailing up...

Ghost’s pants get tight as he stares without saying anything. Watching you scribble on your notepad. Glaring.

“Why can’t I get you out of my fucking head?” Your ears twitch at the low growl as if coming from a beast; seconds later, your brain catches up to process the words. Your pen stops its pointless scrawling just as your breath does. Ghost spits out, seeing your form straighten in the chair, “Every bloody thought, you’re right there!”

His boots stomp to the floor, and before you know it a hand is trapping the back of your head, fingers carding through hair to angle your chin up. Your breath gasps out as your wide eyes lock on Ghost’s, his hold tight but not uncomfortable; as if he knows the perfect amount of pressure to make your blood surge and your pupils expand.

You stare into volatile blue with silver flecks, a skeletal mask stained from dirt and blood. Ghost’s thumb digs into your scalp.

“Answer me, Masque,” he grunts, accent so thick you momentarily struggle to string the words together in your stupor.

Ghost’s nose is close to yours; breathing in each other’s air as the temperature rises. Your throat bobs with a swallow. Below you, you feel your legs clench together as the Lieutenant's fingers lightly pull on your roots when you don’t respond—small sparks of electricity run down your spine that make it straighten instinctually. A soft purr flies from your lips; face on fire as your lashes flutter. Your hands clench at the dull pulse in your lower body.

The Brit’s dead eyes stare down at you, glinting; studying you deeply with growing satisfaction in his heart and tension in his boxers.

You both glare half-lidded, panting, and flesh heated.

“Is this your apology?” He tightens his hand and you bite your lip, small whine meeting his ears as he represses a groan at the sound. Your voice was breathy but smug.

“You fucking wanted this, you naughty little beast,” Ghost growls, moving even closer to tower over you. “You’re playin’ me.” You mold into him as you still sit in your chair, your chin set onto his upper abdomen as the midsection of your breasts presses into his crotch; brushing against his hardened bulge firmly.

You shiver at the feeling, your core leaking out slippery fluids to stain through your pants one second at a time. Every twitch of his fingers leaves you wanting to arch into him. Feel him.

Ghost feels your hands go to wrap his open thighs, nails digging into the back of his pants as his mouth opens under the mask to force out air.

“You liked me in between your legs, didn’t you?” Your tiny, teasing, voice serenades him as he quickly begins to lose control of his composure.

“Shut it,” Ghost grunts, mind yelling at him to move away, “Shut your damn mouth.”

Those pupils were so wide his eyes were almost entirely black, feral chest moving quickly.

“I already know why you snapped at me…” One of your hands travels back to the Lieutenant’s front, skin tingling at the scratch of a belt and the rough fabric of his cargos. You leave it over his crotch and add a tight amount of pressure; mouth lightly opening at the weight and size of him as Ghost grunts deeply, thighs jerking forward.

Blinking at his glassy eyes you breathe out into thick air and the veiled threat of something more. His hand in your hair is so tight that you feel your pulse under the tendrils—you enjoy every second of this cat-and-mouse game.

After all, no one knew who the mouse was yet.

You rub your hand up and down and watch Ghost’s clothed dick, feeling his muscles straining to keep himself in control. He lets you continue as he watches with a clenched jaw, his pants getting gradually wet with precum; hips twitching.

“...You can’t get enough of me touching you, can you?” Your statement ignites something immediately, and you’re being grabbed by your shoulders and forced to your feet.

Staring wildly, you cringe at the soaking patch under your clothes but let Ghost place your backside on the table. He presses into your hips to keep you there—legs opened and feet planted to the floor below on their tip-toes.

The man breathes like a lion, nose in front of yours. You slightly smirk at the far-off haze in his eyes, lust and pleasure blending and bleeding into the almost bruising hold he uses to press you down.

He watches you for a minute or two—taking in your scent and the rabid instinct that infects the both of you now that everything was on the table.

You knew you were right; he knew you were right. Licking your lips you look down and stare at his blatant hard-on hungrily. Your brow raises slowly.

“You going to let me take care of that, Ghosty?” He’s up and locking the door after he slims it shut.

“This is it,” Ghost grunts, “one time, Masque. That’s fucking it, you hear?”

“Awe,” You cue, swishing your legs as he stomps back over, hand grasping his belt and whipping it off with a flex of his forearm. Your core tightens, hips trying to press back into the table. “That's so cute. You think once is enough.”

A hand captures your jaw, “I said,” he breathes, the other hand going to shift up the bottom of his mask up to his nose. You gasp at the sight of blond stubble and milky scars. A strong jaw wound like a spring. Ghost’s musk invades your nose and you feel your palms so clammy. “...Shut it.”

Hard lips slam into yours.

Like some game between the two of you, your mouths fight one another with aggressive grunts stuck in your throats, sharp inhales of air between partings. Ghost’s lips mold and conform to yours, clinging around the supple flesh—there’s a deep-rooted intensity, a hunger, and a desire mixed with sweet stubbornness. The tang of metal and old canvas opens to you just as your mouth does when his teeth bite down at your skin.

Quickly sucking down breaths, you feel his tongue push past layers and slip into your awaiting clutch; Ghost groans lowly and explores as his hands bare down into your hips, one making its way to grip at your hair again. Your own dig into his waist as he leans over you.

He latches onto your hair and peels you back from him, tongue sliding out of your mouth as he moves to nip at your chin—angling your head whichever way he wants to. Your skin burns as the man bites down at your neck, hot saliva stuck to your lips as your chest pants fast with a low whine at the mixture of pain and bliss.

Below you, your legs are wide to allow Ghost to stand between you, his firmness leaving your hips canting at every hickey he leaves behind and how he shivers into you as you move against him. It was addicting to him—your taste and how your flesh yields to him as he clamps down on it ruthlessly and rapidly. In no time he’d traveled the length of the area behind your ear and down the swell of your shoulder; shirt pushed back by his nose.

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe, eyes glassy as you blankly stare into the far wall over the Lieutenant’s shoulder; your panties are soaked through and the evidence can be felt. A long whine exits your chest when Ghost licks at the deep marks he left behind, blown eyes coming back to stare at you head-on as if in a trance.

His lips are red and swollen, mouth open with silent, fast, breaths. His large chest moves quickly over yours. He orders you in a hoarse voice; strained, “Get on your knees.”

Licking your lips your widened gaze stays locked on his, the hand in your hair tight and keeping you away from slamming your mouth back to his. The air is electric, both of your bodies yielding to one another's even if you don’t realize it.

As much as you wanted to scoff and roll your eyes at the comment, to make him apologize to you for what he’s done, you realize that your body has already complied with the request. Slipping off the table, Ghost watches like a hawk and backs up two steps—feet splayed as you move for him. Your knees slowly lower you down to the floor, connecting with the carpet as you sag, fists clenched and shaking.

There’s a small, heart-pounding, pause. “...Good girl.”

Your jaw drops at the smirk on Ghost’s face and those flashing dead eyes of his, blood thumping with a newly ingrained need. You swallow and feel your throat bob; legs shifting to push back the inner-body itch that grows by the second.

“Now you can listen to me, yeah? Such a slut for it.” Ghost’s hands slowly trail to his pant’s zipper, sliding the piece down the teeth with barely audible metal on metal. Your fingers twitch at every small pop; how the zipper itself had to move forward with the strain of his sizable erection. You can’t even look away from it—how his pants are stiff against tense thighs and the sleeves of his shirt are rucked up to show the black ink of tattoos.

Ghost had tattoos.

When the teeth had run out and the man’s hands grappled for the waistband of both his cargo and his boxers, you’d found out you’d been staring the entire time, pupils so wide they matched Ghost’s and the black stain of his face-paint.

“Fuckin’ hell, Masque,” he grunts, knuckles white and going still, “bet your pretty little cunt is soaked and I ‘aven’t even shown you my bloody dick yet, eh? Well, the thing’ll ‘ave to wait, I’m puttin’ that mouth to good use first. Teaching it who to listen to.”

You startle back, blinking away the burning heat on your cheeks that leaves you uncharacteristically stuttering at the vulgar degradation. But Ghost doesn’t notice, doing what he can to move the various straps along his thighs and his upper hips to be able to free himself quickly—eager and dripping to be down your throat.

The throat and mouth he’d fantasized about for ages.

Stiffing down a whiny moan, you finally see the veiny girth of Ghost’s cock as it comes free over the top of the tight white cotton of his boxers; a happy trail extending up his visible abdomen when his wrist snatches it out.

“Put to good use?” You breathe out, “Christ, you’re going to make me fucking mute, Ghosty.”

“Well, Sweetheart,” he breathes a sigh of relief as he plays with the leaking tip with his thumb. Your hands itch to brush against your achy clit, the pressure in your chest almost enough to make you sob at the sheer nothingness. Sweat glistens over your forehead. Eyes glare at you as you watch thighs tense and loosen. “That’ll be fine by me. Don’t need you speaking when I’m paintin’ your damn cunt with my cum, do I?”

Jesus, you both were in the fucking meeting room. Going to fuck in the meeting room.

You lick your lips and stare as Ghost stalks close again, gripping your chin and opening your jaw with his thumb and first finger. His dick was right in front of you, and you can smell sex and sweat like an animalistic aphrodisiac as it coats your brain with lust as you moan out.

Your arms tense with a want to reach and touch it, watch as Ghost falls apart below the twist of your wrist. It was so addictive you feel yourself clench at the visual, your body shivering violently.

“Oi, fucking focus.” Your tongue sneaks out and licks Ghost’s finger and he feels his grip tighten on you with a puff of hot air. “Little brat.”

He stares into your mouth and breathes deeply as a smirk peels the edges of your lip. Blue swirls with anticipation.

“Keep it open, then.” Ghost’s hand drops from you and you easily keep your mouth open as his hand goes back to his cock, grasping it firmly as the other finds the top of your head. You shiver and shift your thighs under you, your body striking like a drum to oxycontin and adrenaline. “That’s a girl…” The Lieutenant growls, and the tip of his dick slips into your saliva-dripping mouth with hidden fever. “Fuck.”

Your eyes flutter at the taste, letting him maneuver your face closer to the base as your hands snap to his thighs—nails digging in and eliciting a sharp inhale as you press into the two-week-old wound under his pants. Ghost curses under his breath but watches in flooding pleasure at the image of his cock disappearing farther and farther into you. Inch by inch you tell yourself to breathe through your nose; feeling the make of his veins and the mushroomed tip traveling farther and farther back.

Moaning in the base of your neck, Ghost instinctually jerks his hips at the sound, feral grunts trapped in his chest. Your eyes go wide with the prickle of tears, not from pain but from the surprise as you gag. His hold on your hair tightens and you mewl as he continues to lose himself to the feeling of your wet heat.

He was so big it was like your throat was ripping new sinews just for him, and you reveled in every moment of the feeling of his predatory gaze.

“So bloody tight for me—can’t wait to be in that cunt of yours…can’t be better than this. Have to test it.” He talks more when he’s horney.

Slightly gagging again at the sheer size, his palming hand presses you deeper and you take him as well as you’re able, still space between your nose and his pelvis as your knees dig harder into the ground. Ghost groans gutturally, head slightly lulling back and panting like a dog, looking down at your red eyes and far-off gaze. Your hands kneed his upper thighs and he smirks slowly.

Without another word and with sweat staining him under his uniform, bits and bobs from his gear start to clink together and dance as his hips set a rough pace; you find your head being puppeteered back and forth with his thrusts as your scalp flames from his hold. Tears burn immediately.

“Yeah, that’s it—such a good little slut for me, Masque. Gettin’ it down, fuck,” Ghost pants, as you hollow your cheeks, back arching into you and leaving your nostrils flaring to take down air for your spasming lungs. The sight above you was sinful.

Your Lieutenant in full gear, pants and skin-tight boxers stretching and shoved down just under the clutch of his crotch. With every back-and-forth motion, the zipper grazes the underside of your engorged throat as every vein can be undoubtedly seared into your esophagus like a brand.

Ghost’s eyes flutter and flinch, but never once does his hazy gaze leave your mouth as he continues to jerk your head back and forth. Saliva drips drown your chin and the nearly painful burn in your navel lets you know how true this was a relief not only for Ghost but for you as well. You wanted to touch yourself, but you can’t stop touching the Brit—not for a second. Shit, you think you could fall apart just by looking at this; you were sure Ghost was thinking the same thing.

“Look at that, makin’ such a fucking mess of you.” His abdomen tightens and rolls with every jerk and rut, and your eyes roll back with a deep whine in the back of your throat when he hits the back of your throat. Sweat splatters down your temple as the air is steeped with animalistic desperation. Ghost whines thickly in answer and seems to speed up as your hands claw at his thighs. “You like that, pet? Huh? Being my little cock-sleeve.”

Your nails dig deeper into his flesh and he shivers wildly; eyes flash at the sight of himself disappearing into you and exiting just after as the slap of wet skin reverberates. The tension in his chest increases and he starts to desperately kneed at your hair.

“If I’d known you’d take it down like this, I’d-I’d have made you hate me sooner, yeah?” Tension fizzles up his jaw and you know he’s close by how he bites down into his lip and tilts his head back.

Instinctual tears travel down your sweat-slick face, the thought of being used like this vulgar and as dirty as the sounds that echo in your throat and strike down your spine.

“Fucking hell,” Ghost gasps, and his pace stutters as he twists your locks. Your teeth graze along his flesh as you dig your thumb into his wound to steady yourself. Whining loudly, the action seems to get to the man using your mouth for his pleasure, as not three rough thrusts later the warm feeling of his cum splatters the back of your throat in thick, hot, spurts.

Choking for a moment, the widening of your eyes meets Ghost’s fluttering lashes from above. His free hand goes behind you to slam onto the tabletop; back curved over you as he shakes and sputters as he rides out his high.

Cum drips out of the seams of your stretched lips, and with a deep breath through your nose, your hand lowers from Ghost’s thighs as you carefully pull your face back from his pelvis. The sensation of his cock leaving your mouth and bringing saliva and his fluids with it was animalistic at best, they spill to the floor and off of your chin like a small river.

Licking your lips, you swallow what you can and try to catch your breath as your chest rages. Blinking rapidly, your eye twitches as you bring a hand up to your sore and ragged throat, Ghost’s heaving body stiff and hunched as he stares at the table blankly. Sweat dribbles down the side of his nose, sneaking out from under the top side of his mask.

There’s a long minute of nothingness as you both try to breathe and understand the gravity of what you’ve both done. And then you both lock eyes and stare.

The air stills over as Ghost’s large pupils stare at the mess on your face—seeing it drip down your throat as you tilt your chin up to him. His chest purrs like a cat and you don’t even think he realizes that he does it.

Two seconds later you’re being manhandled up to the top of the table, backside hitting it as a hand goes to your belt. Lips connect with yours and groan at the taste, the clinking of metal hitting your ears as you submit to his prodding tongue as it licks along your inner flesh.

Your fingers snap to trail around Ghost’s neck, moaning into him as he slips his hands into your pants, pulling back and ordering, “Up.” Eager and filled with lust, you raise your legs and he rips them down to your knees, dragging you closer to the edge.

“Good girl.” He smirks, black-smeared eyes creased. If you could speak you’d tell him to shut up and fuck you already.

Your slick skin meets the air and you gasp, Ghost’s hands waste no time trailing up the flesh of your hips, pitching to make you jump. Glaring, you try to drag him back into you but he’s built like stone, clicking his tongue. When his fingers collect the fluids that drip out of you, you whimper at the stimulation—two calloused fingers getting entranced by that as they stop at your clit. You stare desperately into amused blue eyes as he pressed deep, your thighs tensing as they jerk.

“Any more of this and you’ll stain the table, won’t you, Sweetheart? I get you this worked up, yeah? Bloody hell.” You pant, and lines form on your forehead at the indecent circling of his fingers; not being gentle as he sees your mouth open and your lungs gasp. Sharp spikes form in your thighs, and they move in tandem with Ghost. “Look at that…”

Deep chuckles mock you, but you both know this has to be fast—and with how worked up you were, it would be.

“Alright, then, brat,” Ghost takes his hand away and you whimper before he grunts and grips you by the shoulders. Your lust turns to confusion. “Suppose you did well. Let’s make this quick, eh? Got work to do.”

Flipped around, you squeak as your clothed chest meets the table, ass presented as your feet scramble to connect with the floor. Surprised, you whip your head to the side to stare back at a highly smug Ghost as one of his hands goes to grab onto your supple flesh, massaging it before it sneaks to your hip.

“Easy with it, I’ll take care of you, Masque.” In little to no time he’s lining himself up with your dripping pussy, so wet it’s easy except for the fact that he’s huge enough to make you mute by a blowjob. Your back arches into the table with a long moan as the length slowly spears you open, instinctually widening your legs as best as you’re able.

Closing your eyes, you press one of your hands to your mouth to stifle your noises, thighs spasming as Ghost curses under his breath; gear clinking into each other.

“So bloody tight.” With a swift thrust and a knock of your pelvis to the edge of the table, your eyes burn with the feeling of holding Ghost in your most intimate area and the knowledge that he would completely wreck it for anyone else. Your lungs fight for air, but a long mewl exits your fingers as the man shakes over you with restraint. “Christ.”

Tight wasn’t the way to describe it—you were like a fucking noose. Your sensitive walls know every vein and bulge, the scrape and dig, far more intimately than your throat ever could. Like a carved stamp, they’re reforming to Ghost’s dick every second.

Tapping the side of your forehead to the table, the man can’t help himself anymore and starts to thrust into you; feral squelching and fluids staining the top of his pants. Your face burns, the rocking of the table hypnotic as your toes fight to stay on the ground. The sensation of being so full truthfully made your mind go blank, fingers twitching as Ghost continued to palm at your hip—his other hand going to press into your spine, keeping you stapled to the table.

His gear slammed and rubbed into your ass, bruising it no doubt, but you found you didn’t care at all. Pleasure rocked down with every ruthless intrusion.

“Can feel ya ‘round my cock,” you keen at the words, tears dribbling down the side of your face as you try to hold back sobs of pleasure. Ghost increases his pace, rabid slapping echoing off the walls as he feels his sole focus on your mind-shattering bliss. “Can’t have ‘em hear how loud you are, now, can we? Can’t let ‘em know I’m shagging you in their meeting room like a little fucktoy, eh?”

He angles his hips higher, pushing your farther up the table as his hands only drag you back. Every moment leaves your core tightening even more; molten heat pooling as the edge gets closer.

Footsteps echo down the hall outside, but both of you are too focused on the other and the ache that only increases like a pair of cuffs. Your mouth lets loose insistent gasps and moans while Ghost breathily groans at every other interval of his ravaging cock as it brushes your cervix.

You whine loudly, spine arching and legs desperately trying to close. Ghost chuckles and your reaction spurs him on—hitting that same spot over and over again as you sob.

“Right there, yeah? That it, Masque?” You nod rapidly, and the Lieutenant's grip tightens with a loud grunt, “Fuck, that’s it, bloody slut.”

The coil in your gut gets tighter, shining with desperate shakes of your body and the numb way you try to meet Ghost’s thrusts before you entirely lose the plot of reality.

“You’re close,” he breathes, feeling your pussy trying to keep him in, slick trailing down the insides of your thighs and transferring to the Brit’s clothes. His boxers were soaked. “C’mon, then. Don’t disappoint me, Masque. Lemme see you cum on my cock before I fill you up like the good girl you are, yeah?”

Your body spasms, thighs tensing and toes curling at the floor; fingers scratching down the table as you press over your mouth harder in a last-ditch effort to remain in control of yourself. The coil snaps and suddenly you’re digging your forehead into the wood below you, orgasm ripping through you like a knife as cum paints Ghost’s dick as he continues his relentless chase of his second release.

“There it is, fuck, look at all that, Love. Paintin’ me like a naughty fuckin’ portrait.” Ghost gasps, a hand coming up to connect to the table by your head, feeling you completely flood his pelvis—he doesn’t stop even when you whine in overstimulation, fucked-out eyes wide and mouth dripping drool into a small pool. The milky ring at his root grows and grows. With a loud moan, he looks down and watches the vulgar sight rabidly, pounding into your heat as his own end gets closer and closer.

“Shite,” His forehead hits your spine, taking the skin into his teeth and biting hickeys as his open mouth leaves trails of saliva. “Took me so bloody well, cunt was made just for me.”

His body shakes and with one last shove from his hips, he spills into you with a loud whimper muffled into your flesh. Teeth biting down so hard that you moan in turn, the spent releases dribble out of you like a stuffed bird. You feel his chest atop you as he places his weight slowly down; the fast-panting mirroring your own.

Sweat connects the two of you as it bleeds through your clothes, the smell in the air and the scent of delirious sex staining your bodies.

Your mouth remains open and hoarse, scraped dry. Ghost above you moves delicately as he pulls back up, moving back to peel your messy hair away from your blown eyes. After a moment his small voice hits you—the accent deep.

“All good?” Your eyes slowly rove to him as he kisses your forehead, shivering violently as he slips out of you; the wet drip of cum hits the carpet in the still silence as you whimper at the feeling. “...Masque?”

Dull concern emanates from his tone and you blink back. You clear your throat and utter in a torn voice, “...P-pretty good apology, Ghosty…S…shit.”

Smugness burns in his orbs, but the roll of his eyes hides it quickly. The puff of his chest couldn’t be hidden from you, though.

His hands reach down and hike up your panties and cargos—both items completely wrecked. The large splotch on Ghost’s own clothes showed you that you weren't alone in that aspect.

As he carefully flips your limp form back over and pulls you up by your arms, you groan in annoyance but shut up when his hands go to zip your zipper and clip back your belt.

“Couldn’t have had a revelation in your barracks room?” You huff, itching at your throat. “You’re buying me cough drops, you ass.” The state of your voice was laughable. Anyone would know what happened if they spoke to you.

Ghost sighs and begins with his own clothes, stuffing himself back into his boxers and growling at the chilled fluids on his pants as he pulls them back up. He goes and retrieves his belt before walking back.

“Acting like you weren’t beggin’ for it.” He slides you a smirk before he grabs onto his mask and begins to cover his jaw.

Your hand snaps out and stops him. Ghost startles, eyes flashing before his muscles stiffen. You raise a brow and he slightly calms.

Scoffing, you lean in and place a final kiss on his lips—a tinier and tender kiss. Gaze wide, the man stares off as his heart starts to beat fast again at the firm press. After you’re done your hand goes up and grasps the fabric yourself, carefully re-shrouding the mystery of a man with a smile.

He watches blankly.

“We okay?” You ask, tilting your head as your lower body aches when you shift on the table. “I miss my annoyingly gruff Ghost. This new one’s a jerk.” A small laugh graces your ears, and it makes you beam. “I know why you did it,” you admit, and hold out a hand between your bodies. “But pushing me away will only hurt the both of us. Let's try this, Ghost. Please.”

“...You’re makin’ it seem like a good deal, Love…is it?” He holds out a hand of his own, large and scarred hands that had gripped you so tight before utterly loose and awaiting.

“No clue,” you admit with a smirk, “Wanna figure it out?” Ghost watches as he always does and always will, searching into your eyes for any hint of hesitance or denial.

“Always liked a challenge.” He grunts and encompasses his hand with yours. You squeeze it and nod, chest light as your normal breath comes back.

“You know what a real challenge is? Trying to take down your fucking dic—” The meeting room handle jiggles and you both snap into action.

Ghost tosses you your notepad and you slide a shoved-away chair his way on shaky legs, slipping into a free seat with failing knees. You both sit side by side on the opposite side of the table, shoulders bumping and faces hot not three seconds later. Ears twitch at the sound of a key entering the slot.

You try to act normal and begin messing around with your notepad, stealing a pen from Ghost’s gear as Price opens the door. At the sight of the two of you, he pauses and stands in the doorway.

“Ghost…Masque.” With a squint, Price looks around the room slowly, confused at the rod-straight spine from his Lieutenant and the way you awkwardly scribble nothing onto your pad.

“Price,” Ghost utters as you look up and fake smile, waving as you tighten your hips under the table in an attempt to hide the evidence spilling out of you.

The Captain continues to stare, scrutiny in his eyes, for at least a full minute.

“Problem, then?” The Lieutenant asks. Price’s lips thin and he gains a sheen of deep annoyance. You groan under your breath and knock your head to the table at the next comment.

“In the fucking meeting room?!”

TAGS:

@emerald-valkyrie , @anna-banana27 , @blueoorchid , @cryingnotcrying , @writeforfandoms , @homicidal-slvt , @jade-jax , @frazie99 , @elmoees , @littlemisstrouble , @alpineswinter , @phoenixhalliwell , @idocarealot , @lavalleon , @facelessmemories , @h-leigh, @20forty9 , @glitter-anon-asks , @emily-who-killed-a-man , @neelehksttr, @aeneanc , @escapefromrealitysm , @i-d-1-0-t , @pparcxysm , @hawkscanendme , @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney , @sanfransolomitatm , @maelstrom007 , @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet , @pheobees , @glitterypirateduck , @uselsshuman , @fan-of-encouragement , @halfmoth-halfman , @ghostlythunderbird , @I-inkage, @pukbadger , @kopatych11 , @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop , @knightofsexyness , @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons , @330bpm-whiplash , @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu , @tiredmetalenthusiast

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barbarianbookhoe · 8 months ago

Text

I swear I'm never gonna find the love I know I right-fucking-fully deserve

I just rewatched Bridgerton season 3 for the 3rd time already, and MY GOD, if a man does not yearn for me like a Bridgerton man😩

Request: Kaz Brekker x drunk (fem) reader (this is a long fcking one)

Too Sweet

TW: fluff, mention of assault

"And then, THEN he said I am just as useful as a rock. A damn rock!," she scoffed as she swayed in her seat. "Rocks can bee useful," she mumbled, "you can throw 'em at people. Like me! I can be thron at people," she hiccuped once before pointing at her glass for the bartender to re-fill.

The guy just shook his head at her and told her to stop shouting at costumers, or find someplace else. Apparently, she's been a lot friendlier than she thought.

She dropped some kruge on the counter, not having enough common sense left to count if it was even enough.

"But his eeeyes while he looked at me, oh Saints, his eyes are so beautifuuul, and sooo blue, they make me swoooon," Y/N told a waitress, who just laughed at the lovesick girl, who's been talking about a boy for the past 10 minutes.

"Oh honey, you have such a soft spot for that boy!" She laughed, and Y/N just nodded. "Yeah, and-and you should see his cheeks and ears, that when he gets flustred, no, flusterred, uh, flus-tered, yes, they turn red but he hides it, and no one sees, but I see it, because he has such a preeeetty face," she tells her on a high pitched voice, and even rests her head on her arms and lets out a sigh.

Y/N talking about her love life being the only thing actually happening in the small bar, the waitress sats down in front of her after getting out a round of drinks. The two women began their discussion about the boy, and the way Y/N cannot stop smiling while talking about him makes the waitress smile herself.

The sound of a cane tapping on the floor makes the lady turn around, only to find the Bastard of the Barrel himself staring right at her. No, not at her, but the girl on the other side of the table. She gets up and with a quick goodbye slips out of her seat, to make her way to the other side of the place.

Kaz Brekker, as if he had all the time in the world, slowly walked over to his Crow, who was supposed to be in the Club with their group hours ago.

He'd only been trailing her for an hour or two, but in that time she already went through 3 bars. Not counting the one, or ones, where he wasn't present. And without paying. Kaz made sure she wouldn't be in debt by the next morning. As he looked at her drunken state, he began questioning his own plan to get her home as soon as possible.

"Jeeesss!" Y/N looked up at him giddily, practically dragging her words out. "Come 'ere you silly," she signaled for him to sit down, to which Kaz just rolled his eyes. She must've drank quite a lot if she thought him to be the sharpshooter. "Why you in black?" She shook her head as if getting rid of her question and looked at him giddily yet again.

Kaz couldn't shake the bittersweet feeling that slowly made its way into his well-guarded heart. The feeling that she looked the happiest in that moment, drowned in alcohol, probably on the edge of alcohol poisoning, and staring at him with such joy Kaz rarely saw anymore on her, even less in his life. It was clear to him that she was going through something, he just didn't know what it was.

If he had any talent for it he would've drawn her right in that moment, to capture her smile, the shine of her eyes, to keep her this happy at least on paper, to keep her smiling.

"Alright, get up. You're going home," Kaz sternly told her to which she just scoffed. "Ah, but Jesper we have so much to talk aboouuuut," she whined as he took a step closer. "This wasn't a question. You. Are. Going. Home."

"Alrigh', alrigh'," Y/N mumbled to herself as she tried to steady herself enough before attempting to walk on her own. After a few seconds of failing to do so, she quickly straightened her back and began her uncoordinated, swaying march for the door. Kaz was just two steps behind her, and when they got out on the street, he took half a step closer as he stepped next to her.

"Am I late for that meeting? Nahh," She mumbled loud enough for Kaz to hear. "It don' matter. What do I do?" She turned her head to Kaz for a split second before loudly continuing. "I'm talking Jespeeerr!" Kaz quickly shushed her, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to them.

"Don't ssssshhh me, Kaz sssssh-ushes me, not you!" She said and had it not been for Kaz, she would've tripped in her own foot. "I feel like he doesn't like me anymore," she said then, but Kaz just kept quiet, waiting for her to continue. "I want to tell him to shut up for once, to give 'im my opinion," she began gesturing before herself, as if she wasn't even talking to him anymore, more to herself.

"I feel like... punching him, givin' 'im a piece of mind. Yah, let'ss do that!" She quickly turned around, probably to find Kaz who was standing next to her, but Kaz caught her elbow and stood her in front of him. "You won't do that, alright? You're going home to sleep, and if you still feel like it, you'll give him a punch tomorrow."

"But whyyy? He's always up at night, and that'ss when we taaalk. I can't tell 'im during the dayy!" Her words began to slur again and she was swaying, so Kaz took it as a sign, that she was still in fact really drunk. He didn't let go of her elbow as he guided themselves towards her little flat near Fifth Harbor. It was more like one big room rather than a flat, but she didn't spend that much time there to care about it.

"And why can't you? Is there an unkown force keeping you from it?" He told her while he fought the nausea slowly coming up his throat. They'll be there in a few minutes, he reminded himself. "Jess, why are you the one asking? You're always telling me to lissen to my heart, to not overthink, to just say it. You're not Jesper, that's why!" She said more to herself than Kaz.

"Say what?" Kaz turned to Y/N for a few seconds, trying to see her face to determine what she was feeling. He found himself as curious when he was just a small boy, watching the magicians on the streets of Ketterdam. He watched every little detail of her face, from the flatter of her eyelashes to the unnoticeable tremble of her lips, trying to guess what she was going to say.

"Again with the questionss," she mumbled and right after spoke up on a sad tone, her vice slightly trembling, almost as if she was holding back from crying. "You sound like my landlord. Saints, I hate 'im. He's always angry a-and yelling, and soooo tall, taller than Matthias," she said and Kaz noticed the barely noticeable crack in her voice, making him worry about what more she had to say.

"I mean, I fought 'im twice yesterday, you know, 'cause he was demanding the rent I already payed, givin' me a great punch to my ribs, but like, you know, I'm a fighter, I can take 'im any day, but I mean, he's sooo tall and, and I was tired, so you know I didn't have too much "fight" in me." Y/N rambled, probably unaware of admitting that she was assaulted and making it seem less serious than it was, but still, it made Kaz's vision fog up with red.

How did he not know? How could he let this happen under his watch? Why didn't he felt the need to investigate her place, like he first intended to?

She was still rambling about her landlord and their multiple fights, yes, multiple Kaz realized, getting angrier by the second, when she stumbled and Kaz had to yank her up before she fell on the hard ground.

Without a second thought, or any thought at all, Kaz put her arm around his shoulder and carefully slipped his other arm around her waist to keep her somewhat standing. They were just a block away from her place, but Y/N seemed to cling to Kaz, her legs barely functioning at this point, and Kaz had to lean themselves against an old brick building before they both collapsed.

He also had to take a breather from all the touching, not being used to touching her for this long. Yes, they've stitched up each other countless times, sometimes even caring enough to change each other's bandages. But that never lasted longer than half a minute, or one, which was the limit for Kaz.

As soon as he calmed down, he felt warm fingers touching his face.

He froze in his spot and he had to close his eyes and concentrate on his breathing if he didn't want to start panicking. A minute passed by, and the hands still didn't leave his face, but they began to explore his every feature. It started at his cheeks then to his jaw, his forehead, the hand smoothed over his eyes so carefully as if he was made from glass, then the fingers stopped at his lips. He didn't even know he was forcefully keeping them in a thin line until the warm touch made them slightly part.

When Kaz opened his eyes he felt his heart stop and melt all at once, he felt it cease to beat only to then began pumping his blood with so much force he felt as if his heart was trying to fire up his veins.

Y/N was looking at him with a longing gaze, as if this was her last, yet the first time seeing him. As if he was something worth looking at.

She kept looking at him even though Kaz swore his heart was about to burst into a mess of blood and flames. Her fingers lingered on his lips as her other hand came up to softly caress the side of his face, touching a strand of hair. As if she wasn't able to stop touching him. Kaz felt his lips part even more than before, and his breath got stuck in his throat at her touch. He kept his eyes on her as he felt the need to close them for just one second. He felt his heart throb too fast for his liking, feeling his head getting dizzier by the second.

He was sure he was about to faint.

When her thumb caressed his lips for one second, just one second, she moved both of her hands to the side of his face ever so gently, and Kaz felt his knees tremble under her gaze. They never once broke the eye contact, which made the moment feel even more intimate. The way she was looking at Kaz, the way her eyes reflected the dim light next to them on the street made her eyes sparkle in the moonlight, and Kaz felt himself quietly gasp for air.

Kaz Brekker gasped for air, mesmerized by the sight of her.

He was trying to figure out the emotion behind the look she was giving him all night, when she mentioned him or his name, when she realized he wasn't Jesper, when she took his face in her hands, as she caressed him with such tenderness, as if one wrong touch could shatter him like the finest porcelain.

But when she moved her thumb back to his lips again, slightly caressing it without even noticing, Kaz finally dared to speak up.

"What are you-," He couldn't finish the words he was whispering, because Y/N put his handkerchief between their faces, holding it onto Kaz's lips, as if she was about to...was she? Was she about to...kiss him? Kaz felt like fainting again.

When she spoke up, the drunk look was somewhat gone from her eyes, and bittersweetness took over. "My imagination is wicked, but this might be the cruelest thing it ever did to me, making me see you as if you were real, as if you were here." She whispered it so gently that Kaz had to take a second to grasp what she was saying. "I'm here Y/N, I've been here all night." He said, but she just sadly shook her head.

"You're another hallucination, dream-Kaz, because I can never kiss you in the real world. And even in my dreams, I can't do it without respecting you first," she whispered, smoothing the handkerchief over his lips.

Kaz couldn't pin-point when did his heart pumping began too loud for him to hear, or when did he forget to breathe, but what he knew exactly, was the fact that these all made his thoughts cease to exist. Except one.

"You...dream about me? Above all people you could have choosen, you chose me to dream about?" He asked breathlessly, not believing how small his own voice sounded. Still, tears began welling up in Y/N's eyes, which she tried to keep at bay, but a single drop escaped and she let it stream down her face as she spoke up.

"You're... everywhere, all the time, and I can't escape you from my imagination, sometimes even preferring to hallucinate because that's where I know I'll find you, where I'm brave enough to-to say 'I love you' to your face, without having to deal with your rejection, because I-" As she glanced away from him trying to blink away her tears, Kaz gently took the handkerchief away from his lips and instead held her hand which put the handkerchief on him.

Kaz finally realized how she looked at him. If their racing hearts, her shallow breath, the tremble of her voice wasn't enough clue, than her touch certainly was. Throughout her speech her hands were still on his face, unmoving, not daring to move, instead keeping them there in a tender touch. She was in-

"I'm irrevocably, unconditionally, and fatally in love with you Kaz Brekker."

Sharp breaths and worried looks.

Unnoticeable steps and reassuring nods.

A trembling exhale.

One quick step, and Kaz was kissing her.

Their lips colliding against one another like the sun sets on the dark sea, like the moon takes the sun's place, like fireworks lighting up the sky. Her lips a mix of cheap alcohol and something sweet, his the scent of coffee and something salty. Her shyness, afraid of hurting him, clashing with his yearning movements, all of a sudden forgetting everything that wasn't her. His hand found its way onto the back of her neck, while the other gently touched the side of her face, just as she did mere seconds ago.

Kaz couldn't begin to think about his aversion, nor his nausea, because he was surrounded by her. Her scent, her lips, her hands on his face, her gasp in the kiss. He kissed her as if she was the air he was breathing, and he had been drowning, therefore he took the breath that belonged to him. Kaz never kissed anyone before, nor did he imagine himself doing so, but he did it with a strange hunger, as if he was a starving animal in captivity.

In a way both of them were animals, walking the cruel roads of the city, taking down anyone that crossed their paths in the need of survival. In a way, Kaz was no better than a starving animal, looking for crumbs to feed his hunger, finding any way for revenge to ease his anger. And in a way, Y/N was the first healthy taste that could keep Kaz from starving again.

She was addicting. The kiss couldn't have lasted more than 5 seconds, but Kaz already felt himself in need of another. He only tasted her once but he wanted more. So much more.

His knees didn't stop weakening, and he still couldn't quite catch his breath, and maybe it was from the lack of air in his lungs, or his heart beating too loudly in his ears to hear anything, but despite his past with touch, despite his head trying to tell him to stop, almost as soon as they broke apart Kaz captivated her once again.

This kiss was more tender than the first. Kaz still kissed her with wild hunger, but now he took his time getting familiar with her lips. Although, Y/N didn't let herself fall under his spell this time, she daringly smoothed her fingers through his raven hair, stopping at the nape of his neck and gently caressing some strands. She stood still, letting Kaz do what he wanted with his hands on her.

It all felt like a dream, a dream that she was bound to keep like a memory, not just another one of her hallucinations. She knew this wasn't real, it couldn't have been, because she knew her Kaz could never touch her like this. Not in this lifetime. So she let herself get lost in this dream more than she should've let herself to, because she knew her drunkenness would be a reasonable excuse.

Therefore she couldn't bring herself to step away from him. She wanted to kiss him, needed to kiss him, desperately, and if this was the only way she would do so, in her drunk imagination, then she would have to settle for it. She had to accept that this lifetime wasn't meant for them.

Kaz knew his anger. It was hot and messy, uncalculated, selfish and greedy, which brought out the monster in him. It made him destroy everything in his path, without a single care about who's coming down with him. Kaz knew his anger.

Except this time. As he stepped inside Y/N's flat, looking at the broken chair in the corner, the different marks on the walls, and the small droplets of dried blood at the entrance, he felt a deep rage take over him, and out of instinct he tightened his arm around Y/N just a bit more.

He imagined every scenario as Y/N talked about the fights, from the bad to the worst, but seeing the remnaints of those fights in the organized and neat place felt almost ridiculous to him.

Y/N didn't bother with covering about the damage. She kept her place clean and comfortable as always, and now her place looked like as if the two sides of her life clashed against one another.

Kaz walked over to the bed with her and sat her down, before he grabbed a glass and poured her some water. He signaled for her to drink it and she agreed, probably unaware of what she was drinking. Meanwhile Kaz looked around and lit up a few candles around the room. Then Y/N moved to take off her boots, failing to do so. After multiple attempts and swearing under her breath, Kaz spoke up.

"Stop that and lie down. I'll help," he told her and set his cane down on the bed next to her. She began giggling as he knelt down on one knee to take her boots off. "If you wanted to get me into bed, you could've just asked," she chuckled and Kaz felt his face heat up. He was grateful that she couldn't see his face right now.

"And what would be the fun in that?" Kaz asked and Y/N could hear the cockyness in his voice. "The easiness. I would let you without thinking, you know." Kaz sat her boots next to her bedside table and looked up at her as she slowly sat up.

"You're not an easy woman Y/N, therefore I wouldn't want easy with you." Kaz told her and watched her smile faltered and her eyes got bigger, like when she was concentrating on something. He took it as a sign to continue.

But before he did, he took a moment to really look at her like this. Face red from drinking, eyes shining in the candelight, her gaze full of emotion, hair messy from touching it too much, a few strands sticking to the side of her face, probably from sweat. Kaz moved to tuck those strands of hair behind her ear, and Y/N watched his tender movements with a sleepy smile, but a smile nonetheless.

Kaz, still on his knees, told her to go to sleep and she happily obliged. She fell back on the bed, quickly moving around for a comfortable position then closed her eyes and fell asleep in just a few minutes.

"I'll be right here," Kaz whispered as he got up from his kneeling position, and got to work.

Y/N woke up to the sound of keys jingling. Against her tired muscles she quickly sat up and grabbed her knife from under her pillow. When her front door opened she threw the knife without hesitation.

Knowing that she probably didn't aim right she grabbed another knife from her bedside table and rushed to the intruder. She grabbed the back of their coat and held the knife to their throat, or she would've, if the person didn't block them with their cane. With the beak of the crow.

"This is how you greet your friends?" Kaz asked mockingly to which Y/N just rolled her eyes and took her knife away from Kaz's face. "Why are you here?" She asked back.

"Good morning, yes I'm quite fine, how are you?" He said and the small grin on his face made Y/N want to kick his cane from under him. "Been better. Could do without the slight headache though, but I'm sure it comes and goes with you," Y/N told him and turned her back to get the knife back in its place.

"You were much better company last night." She turned around abruptly. "What did I do?" Kaz didn't answer at first, which made her worried she did something stupid again. "Kaz, what the hell did I do last night?"

"For starters, you hit up probably half a dozen bars to drown yourself in whatever was cheapest. Then you poured your heart out, probably would've fallen into the canal if it wasn't for me," He said the last words with a mix of mocking and smugness. "Better question: what did you do?"

"A thank you would suffice for saving your ass," He told her and she just scoffed. "Thank you, for being a-" Y/N started but as she hopped down on her bed she felt her ribs ache and she had to breathe loudly to ease the pain. Kaz was in front of her in seconds and had an almost worried look on his face. "What is it?"

"Nothing, it's just-nothing. Probably slept in a bad position," she winced as she put a hand on her left side, but she didn't miss the fact that Kaz reached his hand out. It was only a second, or half a second before he took it back, but she saw it.

Imaged of him touching her flashes through her, his hands in her hair, on her face and neck. She could still feel the touch on her lips, and for a second she just stared back at him in surprise. Was it...was it real? Kaz looked at her questioningly, not knowing what just went through her mind.

Then Kaz sat his cane on her bedside table before he got rid of his coat and put it next to her on the bed. Another image came up: the same position, but he was kneeling in front of her. Y/N shook her head a little, trying to get rid of the images.

"Kaz, what are you do-AH," Y/N shouted as Kaz lifted up her shirt and put his hand on her ribs. He kept poking her left side all the while she was cursing him into oblivion. When Kaz finally stopped and reached for the hem of her shirt she grabbed her clothing and clutched it.

"Hey! No more of this! What do you think you're doing?"

"Measuring up your bruises. I need to know how many punches you took," Kaz told her as a matter-of-factly, and Y/N stared back in confusion. "From who?!"

"Your landlord. Mr. Kozar."

Silence fell over the room. Kaz could see the confusion turn into embarassment, then into fear. Y/N was still clutching her shirt, but this time with a tight grip to ground herself in reality.

"How do you-" She started, but then stopped as she looked up at him. "I told you last night, didn't I?"

"Yes, everything," Kaz had to slightly bite down on his lip, so as not to tell her what did he plan for her landlord tonight. The sight of her, slowly curling in on herself, looking as if she wanted to disappear, when Kaz knew better than anyone that she always made her presence known everywhere she went.

Kaz gently touched the hem of her shirt, next to the piece of fabric she was currently holding in an iron grip, when she looked at him again, this time with uncertainity. Kaz just waited.

"If you want to take off my clothes, at least ask my permission first. Be a gentleman," Y/N told him quietly and loosened her grip on her shirt. Kaz scoffed quietly as he kneeled down in front of her. "I'm anything but gentle," he said, his touch on her shirt never tightening.

"Can I?" Kaz asked on a voice so soft it could've melted gold. Y/N never heard him talk that way, therefore she had to take a moment to grasp her head around how sweet his voice sounded. "Can I take off your shirt?" Kaz asked her again, his soft, sweet voice not faltering. Y/N gently nodded. "Yes."

The minutes while Kaz looked at her bruises, sometimes poking them again, she felt like crying the entire time. Not from the pain, that she was used to living in the Barrel for this long, but from how tender his touches were. He may believe he's not a gentleman, but Y/N knew the truth. She knew the heart behind the iron bars.

After Kaz finished, he handed her shirt back and even helped when she had to stretch out her side. He told her one of her ribs might be fractured, but it shouldn't cause her any trouble tonight.

"Is there a job tonight? Wait, was the meeting I missed last night about this?" Y/N asked Kaz quickly after she reached for her boots to put them on. She was stopped by Kaz's cane snatching them away. "This isn't a job, only if you want to look at it that way," he said carefully and it made Y/N suspicious.

"What did you do?"

"I? I did nothing. Your landlord, on the other hand, did more than what's understandable, even more so, hurting someone close to me, which I believe you don't tolerate either, therefore I set up a meeting with him," Kaz said and rested his hands on the top of his cane, looking at everywhere except her eyes. Y/N didn't miss the way he described their relationship. Someone close to me. Was she still dreaming? Or was this real life? Before she could ask him about that little detail, another thought formed in her mind.

"What meeting?" She asked but the way Kaz glanced at her for just a few seconds before putting his coat on to go on his way, told her more than his words could've. "Oh, a meeting, as in, torture,"

"Only if you want it to get to that point," Kaz said and Y/N was up on her feet right in front of him, and her subconscious got giddy at the fact that he didn't move away from her. "Why Kaz? You didn't have to bother with any of-"

"I did." He said suddenly, and his tone made Y/N go silent. "I do, because I wasn't careful enough to investigate this place like I did with the one before, because I trusted you enough to handle things, because I knew ypu would fight your way out of it. Then you told me you were assaulted, multiple times, multiple fucking times Y/N andyou never once told any of us. You never onced mentioned it, not to anyone, not to me." Kaz told her getting angry at himself for not making sure you were alright, because he was too absorved in his own thoughts, in his feelings for you, trying to punish himself for feeling the way he did. Meanwhile it got to a point where he forgot to protect you. He forgot. He never forgot to look after you. "You didn't ask my help."

"You had enough on your plate now that Pekka's out of the picture. You had business to run, I couldn't have just walk through your door saying my landlord is a greedy asshole who's attacking me at any inconvenience. You wouldn't have cared."

"I would!" Kaz said louder and Y/N looked at him in shock. She was about to speak when Kaz interrupted her. "I do. I do care. I care about your well-being enough, that I wouldn't care at which time of day or night you came for my help." He practically whispered the last few words and he could almost feel her lips against his, the memory suddenly blinding him. "Never be too stubborn to ask for my help. Just come to me."

Y/N could hardly breathe in that moment. All of the flashes from her dream, they weren't dreams at all. She really touched his face, and Kaz really kissed her. Now she remembered how his lips moved against hers as if he had been hungry all his life. And as Kaz looked at her with his pale blue eyes, she was reminded of the fact that he initiated the second kiss. Y/N wanted to know how he kissed, now that she was sober. If it felt addicting while she was drunk, she couldn't begin to imagine what it would feel like now that she's sober.

"I need your help Kaz," she whispered and Kaz's face turned serious at the mention of his name. "I'm afraid I don't remember much from last night." Y/N whispered as she slowly held her hand up next to his face, not wanting to be too quich with her movements, but Kaz gently grabbed her hand and put on the side of his face.

"And now?" Kaz asked raspily. Y/N felt like fainting, as she took a quick inhale. "Not familiar," she said and Kaz moved her other hand to the nape of his neck while he put a hand under her jaw, on her neck. "How about this?" He asked, the words a whisper against her lips. "Still not remembering," she moved her head just a little closer to him and heard Kaz quietly gasp for air, to which she let out a small smile.

"This, you remember," Kaz didn't waste time hugging her even closer to him, so he could finally kiss her again. Saints know he's been itching to do so.

Y/N let out a small gasp in the kiss and Kaz poured all of his years of yearning into their kiss.

Since that night the Barrel had something worse to fear from Dirtyhands: his love and devotion.

#grishaverse #shadow and bone #shadow and bone fanfiction #six of crows #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz brekker x reader #grishaverse fic

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urdreamydoodles · 1 month ago

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how about scott, logan, colossus, jean, storm, hank, and wanda with a wild child reader, this is a kid who doesn’t know the meaning of structure or discipline. They are the epitome of skateboarder who live in a basement who survives on nothing but greasy new york pizza( they eat nothing but junk food and take out) . A kid who is constantly coming home bruised and bleeding from wild stunts. Its not even they’re fault they have the kind of neglectful parents that are like i dont care what you do as long as you don't bother me, so they chose to have absolute freedom

X-Men x Child!Reader

You are a wild kid due to your parents' neglect

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Colossus, Hank McCoy, Erik Lehnsherr, Wanda Maximoff

Logan Howlett aka. Wolverine

- You first meet Logan when he pulls you out of a scuffle in a dingy alley, your knuckles bloodied from throwing punches at a group of older kids who deserved it for being jerks. His gruff voice cuts through the tension, "What the hell are you doin', kid?" You shrug, brushing past him like he’s just another stranger trying to lecture you. But Logan isn’t just anyone, and the next time he catches you doing something reckless—trying to ride your skateboard off a railing—you realize you’re not shaking him off so easily.

- Logan quickly learns that you’re a wild spirit, one who doesn’t know when to stop. Your bruises and scratches only fuel his frustration. “You think you’re indestructible, huh?” he growls after dragging you to the mansion with your arm in a makeshift sling. “Guess what? You ain’t.” His tough love feels invasive at first, but there’s a strange warmth to it. Maybe because, deep down, you can tell he actually cares, unlike anyone else in your life.

- Despite his grumbling, Logan becomes your shadow. He’s there when you wipe out attempting a trick and nearly break your ankle. He’s the one hauling you to Hank for first aid when you stumble back to the mansion with a bloody nose. "One of these days, you're gonna kill yourself, and I ain’t buryin' a kid," he grumbles, but his actions betray his words. The way he watches you so intently, like he’s trying to figure you out, makes you feel… seen.

- One day, after Logan drags you out of another scrape, you snap. “Why do you even care?!” you yell, your voice cracking. “You don’t know what it’s like to not have anyone!” Logan’s face hardens, and for a moment, you think you’ve hit a nerve. “You’re wrong, kid,” he says, his tone unusually soft. Later, you overhear him talking to Charles about you. "They remind me of me. Don’t know how to stop fightin’ ‘cause they never had anyone to fight for ‘em."

- Logan starts teaching you how to channel your energy into something productive. “If you’re gonna take risks, at least do it smart,” he grunts, handing you a pair of gloves to protect your hands. He shows you how to defend yourself properly, how to pick your battles. It’s not just about fighting—it’s about self-control, something he knows all too well. And while you hate admitting it, his lessons actually stick.

- The breakthrough comes when you stumble into his room late at night, tears streaming down your face after a nightmare. You hate showing weakness, but Logan doesn’t push. He just sits with you, his presence steady and grounding. “You’re not alone, kid,” he says quietly. “Not anymore.” It’s the first time you realize that maybe, just maybe, you have someone in your corner.

- Over time, you start seeing Logan as more than the grumpy guy who keeps saving your ass. He’s your protector, your mentor, your family. When he gruffly hands you a plate of food during a mansion barbecue and tells you to “eat somethin’ that ain’t junk,” you laugh. He rolls his eyes but doesn’t hide the small smirk tugging at his lips. You’re still a wild child, but now you’ve got someone who understands—and who won’t let you face the world alone.

Remy LeBeau aka. Gambit

- You meet Remy when you’re caught sneaking onto the mansion grounds, trying to pull off some ridiculous stunt involving fireworks and a ramp. Instead of ratting you out, he smirks, intrigued by your audacity. “You got guts, kid,” he says, his Cajun accent dripping with charm. “But guts won’t save you from bein’ stupid.” He’s more amused than annoyed, but you get the feeling he’s watching you now—and not just because you nearly burned the lawn down.

- Remy quickly picks up on your chaotic energy and reckless behavior. “You remind me of a younger me,” he teases, tossing a playing card between his fingers. “All fire, no plan.” At first, you think he’s mocking you, but there’s a glint in his eye that suggests he gets it. He sees through your bravado, recognizing the pain you’re trying to bury under all your stunts and defiance.

- Unlike Logan, Remy doesn’t try to stop you outright. Instead, he plays along, meeting you where you’re at. He even joins you in some of your escapades, though he always makes sure to keep things from getting too out of hand. “If you gonna be crazy, at least do it with style,” he says, flipping his trench coat dramatically as he guides you away from trouble.

- One day, after you’ve crashed spectacularly and are nursing a busted knee, Remy sits beside you with an uncharacteristically serious expression. “You don’t gotta live like dis, y’know,” he says softly. “Runnin’ wild ain’t freedom—it’s just a way to hide.” His words hit harder than you’d like to admit, and for the first time, you let yourself wonder if he might be right.

- Remy starts teaching you his tricks—not just the flashy card stuff, but how to think ahead, how to read people, how to stay one step ahead of the chaos. “Life’s a game, cher,” he says, his voice light but his gaze sharp. “And you gotta learn how to play it.” You soak up his lessons, not realizing until later that he’s been guiding you toward something more stable all along.

- The turning point comes when you call Remy late one night, scared and unsure after a particularly bad fight with your parents. He doesn’t hesitate, showing up within minutes and whisking you away to his favorite rooftop hideout. “Ain’t no shame in needin’ help, kid,” he says, his tone uncharacteristically gentle. For the first time, you let yourself lean on someone else.

- Remy becomes your anchor, your partner in crime, and your found family all rolled into one. He still teases you endlessly, but there’s a warmth to it now, a sense of belonging you’ve never had before. And when he hands you a deck of cards and says, “You’re one of us now,” you know he means it.

Kurt Wagner aka. Nightcrawler

- You meet Kurt when he teleports into the middle of one of your stunts, startling you so badly you nearly fall off the scaffolding you’d been climbing. “Mein Gott, what are you doing up here?” he exclaims, grabbing you before you can tumble to the ground. Despite your protests, he doesn’t let go until you’re safely on solid ground. “You are going to give me a heart attack!”

- Kurt is immediately concerned by your recklessness, but his approach is softer than the others. “Why do you put yourself in such danger, mein freund?” he asks, his golden eyes full of genuine worry. You brush him off at first, but his kindness is disarming. He doesn’t scold you; he just wants to understand.

- It doesn’t take long for Kurt to realize that your behavior stems from more than just a thirst for adrenaline. When you accidentally let slip a comment about your neglectful parents, he connects the dots. “No one should feel like they have to fend for themselves,” he says quietly. His words linger, echoing in your mind long after he’s gone.

- Kurt becomes a constant presence in your life, always ready with a kind word or a helping hand. He patches you up after your latest mishap, his touch gentle as he bandages your scraped knees. “You have so much potential,” he tells you, his tone earnest. “Do not waste it on proving yourself to people who do not care.” His faith in you is both comforting and terrifying.

- He introduces you to the quiet joys of his world—stargazing from the mansion’s roof, reading old adventure novels, sharing stories from his travels. Slowly, you begin to see that life doesn’t have to be a constant whirlwind of chaos. There’s beauty in stillness, too, and Kurt shows you how to find it.

- The breakthrough comes during a particularly bad night when you show up at his door, trembling and unsure how to explain the weight you’re carrying. Kurt doesn’t push; he simply listens, his quiet empathy wrapping around you like a warm embrace. “You are not alone,” he says softly. “And you never will be, as long as I am here.”

- Over time, Kurt becomes more than just a mentor—he’s your family. His unwavering belief in you helps you believe in yourself, and his gentle guidance gives you the strength to start healing. When he tells you, “You are like a sibling to me,” you feel a warmth you’ve never known before.

Scott Summers aka. Cyclops

- You meet Scott after he catches you skateboarding through the mansion’s hallways, narrowly avoiding a collision with Jean. “What do you think you’re doing?!” he demands, his tone sharp. You roll your eyes, unimpressed by his authority, but Scott doesn’t back down. “This isn’t a playground,” he says firmly. “If you’re going to be here, you need to follow the rules.”

- Scott’s strict demeanor grates on you, and you go out of your way to push his buttons. Every time he tells you to stop doing something, you double down, your defiance fueling his frustration. “You can’t just do whatever you want,” he says one day, his voice rising. “This isn’t about control—it’s about keeping you safe!”

- Despite his exasperation, Scott can’t help but worry about you. He starts noticing the bruises, the late-night returns, the way you flinch whenever someone mentions your parents. “Is everything okay at home?” he asks gently, his concern breaking through his usual stoicism. You brush him off, but his question lingers in your mind.

- Scott eventually realizes that his strict approach isn’t working, so he tries a different tactic. He starts showing up at the skate park, watching from a distance as you pull off tricks. “You’ve got talent,” he admits grudgingly. “But talent doesn’t mean much if you don’t take care of yourself.” His rare praise catches you off guard, and you start seeing him in a new light.

- He begins mentoring you, teaching you the value of discipline and structure. “It’s not about following orders,” he explains. “It’s about having a plan, knowing what you’re fighting for.” His lessons are tough, but they resonate, and you find yourself striving to meet his expectations—not because you have to, but because you want to.

- The turning point comes when Scott finds you sitting alone in the mansion’s garden, your usual bravado stripped away. “I don’t know how to fix this,” you admit, your voice shaking. Scott sits beside you, his presence steady and reassuring. “You don’t have to do it alone,” he says quietly. “We’re here for you—I’m here for you.”

- Scott becomes a pillar in your life, someone you can rely on no matter what. His unwavering support gives you the strength to face your demons, and his belief in you helps you start believing in yourself. When he calls you “family,” it’s the first time the word feels real, and you know you’ve finally found a place where you belong.

Jean Grey aka. Marvel Girl / Phoenix

- You meet Jean when you crash into her during a particularly reckless skateboard trick, nearly sending her coffee flying. She catches it with her telekinesis, raising an eyebrow as she looks you over. “Impressive landing,” she says dryly. “But maybe next time, try not to take me out with you.” Her calm demeanor throws you off, but you can’t help noticing the faint amusement in her smile.

- Jean quickly picks up on your chaotic nature—not just from your antics, but because your mind is loud, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that practically scream for attention. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone,” she tells you one day after catching you sneaking out for another dangerous stunt. Her words linger, even if you act like they don’t matter.

- She doesn’t confront you as directly as others might, but her presence is constant. She starts showing up in subtle ways—inviting you to sit with her during meals, offering to help patch you up after a bad fall, or simply listening when you’re too tired to pretend everything’s fine. Jean has a knack for making you feel seen, even when you’re trying to disappear into the noise.

- One day, after you’ve come home battered and bruised yet again, Jean corners you in the kitchen. “Why are you doing this to yourself?” she asks, her voice gentle but firm. When you try to brush her off, she places a hand on yours. “I know what it’s like to feel out of control. But there are other ways to find freedom.” Her sincerity cracks something open in you, though you’re not ready to admit it yet.

- Jean begins introducing you to meditation, something you initially laugh off as “not your thing.” But when she guides you through it, her voice soft and steady, you find a surprising sense of peace. “Chaos doesn’t define you,” she says one evening. “You can still be yourself without destroying yourself.” Her unwavering belief in you starts to shift how you see yourself.

- The turning point comes when Jean catches you breaking down after a particularly bad day. You try to push her away, but she doesn’t let you. “You’re allowed to feel this way,” she says, her arms wrapping around you in a warm embrace. “But you don’t have to face it alone.” For the first time, you let yourself cry in front of someone, and her compassion feels like a lifeline.

- Jean becomes your safe haven, the person who reminds you that strength doesn’t always mean pushing through the pain. She helps you channel your energy into healthier outlets, guiding you with patience and understanding. When she calls you “family,” it feels like coming home, and you know you’ve found someone who will always have your back.

Ororo Munroe aka. Storm

- You meet Storm during a thunderstorm, when you’re out pulling stunts despite the pouring rain. She appears seemingly out of nowhere, her white hair glowing against the dark sky. “What are you doing out here?” she asks, her voice calm but commanding. When you shrug and say something about “living life to the fullest,” she shakes her head. “This isn’t living. This is tempting fate.”

- Ororo is both fascinated and concerned by your recklessness. She sees your wild spirit but also senses the pain behind it. “The storm inside you is powerful,” she says one day, her gaze piercing. “But if you do not learn to guide it, it will consume you.” Her words stick with you, even if you pretend not to care.

- Unlike others, Ororo doesn’t try to control you. Instead, she shows you the beauty of balance. She takes you on walks through nature, pointing out how even the fiercest storms have purpose and harmony. “Freedom isn’t chaos,” she says gently. “It’s understanding your power and using it wisely.” Her wisdom challenges your worldview in ways you don’t expect.

- After one particularly dangerous stunt leaves you with a sprained ankle, Ororo carries you back to the mansion without a word. Later, as she wraps your foot with care, she looks at you with a mix of sternness and compassion. “Why do you punish yourself like this?” she asks softly. You have no answer, but the question lingers.

- Storm begins teaching you control—not through force, but through patience. She encourages you to embrace your passions without letting them rule you. She even takes you flying with her, the wind carrying you both as she shows you what true freedom feels like. “You are not a prisoner of your past,” she says one evening. “You can create your own path.”

- The breakthrough comes during a quiet moment in the mansion garden, where you admit that your recklessness comes from a place of pain and neglect. Ororo listens without judgment, her presence as steady as the earth beneath your feet. “You are stronger than you realize,” she says, her voice full of conviction. “And you are not alone in this.”

- Over time, Ororo becomes your guide and your family. Her unwavering belief in you helps you find balance in your life, and her calm strength inspires you to grow. When she calls you “child of the storm,” it’s not just a nickname—it’s a reminder that you’ve found a place where you truly belong.

Piotr Rasputin aka. Colossus

- You meet Piotr after crashing into him—literally. Your skateboard ricochets off his metal form, leaving you sprawled on the ground. “Are you alright?” he asks, his deep voice filled with concern. When you laugh it off, he frowns. “You should be more careful. Your life is not something to take lightly.”

- Piotr is immediately struck by your wild energy, but instead of chastising you, he approaches you with gentle curiosity. “Why do you live this way?” he asks one day, his steel-blue eyes sincere. When you deflect with a joke, he doesn’t press, but his quiet concern stays with you.

- Despite his towering form, Piotr is surprisingly soft-spoken and kind. He starts looking out for you in small ways—offering to carry your gear, fixing your skateboard when it breaks, even cooking meals for you when he notices you survive on junk food. “You must take care of your body,” he says with a small smile. “It is the only one you have.”

- One evening, after a particularly reckless stunt leaves you limping back to the mansion, Piotr sits you down and talks about his own struggles with responsibility and self-worth. “I know what it is like to feel lost,” he says quietly. “But pain does not have to define you.” His words are simple but powerful, and they linger in your mind.

- Piotr begins teaching you art as a way to channel your energy. At first, you scoff at the idea of painting, but his patience wins you over. “Art is not about perfection,” he says, guiding your hand. “It is about expression.” Slowly, you find yourself drawn to the calmness it brings, a stark contrast to your usual chaos.

- The turning point comes when you confide in Piotr about your neglectful parents. He listens without interruption, his steady presence grounding you. “You deserve better,” he says firmly. “And you are not alone anymore.” His unwavering support feels like a lifeline, and for the first time, you let yourself believe in the possibility of a better future.

- Piotr becomes a constant source of strength and stability in your life. His quiet kindness helps you find balance, and his belief in you gives you the courage to grow. When he calls you “family,” it feels like a promise—a reminder that you’ll never have to face the world alone again.

Hank McCoy aka. Beast

- Your first encounter with Hank is in his lab, where you crash into a shelf of equipment while trying to skateboard through the mansion hallways. He looks up from his work, unamused, as you sheepishly pick up a beaker. “Fascinating,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “An experiment in chaos.” You expect him to yell, but instead, he studies you with quiet curiosity, his sharp intellect already dissecting your motives.

- Hank is both intrigued and exasperated by your lack of structure. “Do you understand the repercussions of your actions?” he asks when you try to sneak off with a bag of chips for dinner instead of eating a proper meal. His lectures are long and full of big words, but somewhere in the middle, you catch a hint of genuine concern.

- He starts observing your behavior more closely, not as a judgment but as a puzzle to solve. “You remind me of entropy,” he says one day, his voice surprisingly gentle. “Chaotic, unpredictable, but not without purpose.” Despite his logical approach, there’s warmth in the way he speaks to you, like he’s trying to understand rather than condemn.

- After finding you late at night in the kitchen, rummaging for junk food with a fresh set of scrapes and bruises, Hank decides to intervene. “Your body is a machine, and you’re running it into the ground,” he says, handing you a plate of something surprisingly healthy. When you grumble about his nagging, he smiles. “Consider it an experiment in self-preservation.”

- Hank starts introducing structure into your life in small, unobtrusive ways—inviting you to join him in the lab, teaching you how to fix your skateboard, and even sneaking vegetables into your meals. You find yourself drawn to his calm and steady presence, even if you won’t admit it out loud.

- One day, after a particularly reckless stunt leaves you with a sprained wrist, you break down and confess the truth about your home life. Hank listens intently, his usual verbosity giving way to silence as he processes your words. “You are not a failed experiment,” he says firmly. “You are a work in progress, and I intend to see you thrive.”

- Over time, Hank becomes your anchor, the person who helps you find balance between chaos and order. His guidance isn’t just about rules—it’s about helping you see your own potential. When he calls you “family,” it feels like the culmination of every moment he spent believing in you, even when you couldn’t believe in yourself.

Erik Lehnsherr aka. Magneto

- You meet Erik when you’re caught trespassing near one of his hideouts, attempting a trick off a rail. He steps out of the shadows, his imposing figure stopping you in your tracks. “You’ve got nerve,” he says, his voice cold and calculating. You expect him to throw you out, but instead, he watches you with a strange mix of curiosity and disdain.

- Erik is fascinated by your wild energy, though he would never admit it. “You remind me of my youth,” he says one day, his tone sharp. “Defiant, reckless, and utterly unafraid of consequences.” His words sting, but there’s something in his gaze—a flicker of understanding—that makes you pause.

- He doesn’t tolerate your antics, but he doesn’t outright condemn them either. Instead, he challenges you, questioning your choices in a way that forces you to reflect. “What are you running from?” he asks bluntly after catching you sneaking out again. His directness catches you off guard, and for once, you don’t have a snarky reply.

- Erik’s approach to helping you is harsh but effective. He doesn’t coddle or comfort—instead, he teaches you the value of strength and self-reliance. “The world will not be kind to you,” he says, his voice heavy with experience. “But that does not mean you must surrender to it.” His lessons are tough, but they resonate deeply.

- Despite his stern demeanor, Erik has moments of surprising gentleness. He notices your injuries, your exhaustion, your deflections, and though he doesn’t press, he makes it clear that he sees you. “Pain is a powerful motivator,” he says one evening. “But it does not have to define you.”

- The turning point comes when you break down after a particularly bad day, your defenses finally shattering. Erik doesn’t offer empty comfort—instead, he shares his own struggles, his own pain. “You are stronger than your circumstances,” he says quietly. “And you are not as alone as you think.”

- Erik becomes an unexpected source of stability in your life. His belief in your strength pushes you to grow, while his rare moments of kindness remind you that even the toughest exteriors can hide a compassionate heart. When he finally calls you “family,” it feels like the highest honor, a testament to the bond you’ve built through fire and resilience.

Wanda Maximoff aka. The Scarlet Witch

- You meet Wanda when you accidentally skate into one of her magical runes, disrupting a spell she was casting. She turns to you, her red eyes glowing faintly. “You shouldn’t be here,” she says, her voice laced with warning. But instead of scolding you, she tilts her head, curious. “Why are you always running?”

- Wanda is both drawn to and exasperated by your chaotic nature. “You remind me of Pietro,” she says one day, her voice tinged with sadness. “Always moving, never stopping to think about the consequences.” Her words cut deeper than you expect, leaving you to wonder why her disappointment stings so much.

- Unlike others, Wanda doesn’t try to impose structure on you. Instead, she meets you where you are, offering understanding without judgment. She starts leaving little charms around the mansion—spells to protect you from injury or to heal your bruises. “You may not care about yourself,” she says softly, “but I do.”

- One night, after returning home with a fresh set of cuts and scrapes, you find Wanda waiting for you. “You don’t have to do this alone,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. When you try to brush her off, she touches your hand, and for a moment, you feel the warmth of her magic easing your pain.

- Wanda starts teaching you small spells—little enchantments to protect yourself or to calm your restless mind. At first, you’re skeptical, but her patience and quiet encouragement win you over. “Magic isn’t about control,” she tells you one day. “It’s about balance—finding harmony within chaos.”

- The breakthrough comes when you finally open up about your neglectful home life. Wanda listens intently, her empathy as deep as her power. “I know what it’s like to feel unwanted,” she says, her voice breaking slightly. “But you are wanted here. You are loved.” Her words feel like a balm, soothing wounds you didn’t know you had.

- Wanda becomes a source of unconditional support in your life. Her kindness and understanding help you start healing, and her belief in you gives you the strength to believe in yourself. When she calls you “family,” it feels like a spell—a promise that no matter what, you’ll always have a place where you belong.

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copilot-crashout · 6 days ago

Note

Oh em gee I love ur writing so much it physically cleanses me sjsjjsjsj

Anyhoo, I was wondering if I could politely request Mouthwashing x reader (separate) where reader writes them “anonymous” love letters. Reader thinks they are being sneaky but the crew have known from the first letter its them and just chose to keep quiet^^? Idk I am kinda crazy about dorky!reader..

Ps #1(If u don’t wanna do all the characters, that fine!)

Pairing: Tulpar crew x gn!reader

Content Warning: None! [except I gave up on proofreading.. ( ᐡ๐ ·̫ ๐)〣]

[A/N]: You're so sweet! Thank you, lovely anon!! (°´˘`°) I default to all the characters, so don't worry! I don't want to leave anyone's favourites out! I wonder if you can tell who my favourite is from my work... ( ⩌⩊⩌)✧

CAPTAIN CURLY:

-> What a charming admirer he has! He grins when he notices you nervously looking around before entering his room, only to find the cutest little letter in his room professing their love to him.

-> He keeps hold of all of them. They're worth more than gold anyway. He doesn't have the heart to tell you right away, not when he sees your chest puffed out with pride when you place another letter in his room, a mission successful in your eyes. Instead, he focuses on noticing the little details he'd never seemed to pick up on initially. You had it bad for him, huh?

-> Curly teases you about it. He never mentions them directly, but he will often exaggerate his behaviours to the most recent letter he read. You mentioned how tall he was. He's sure to flaunt it off more.

Since when were things in this kitchen placed so high?

You sighed to yourself, stretching to try and grab some simple condiment packets you swore were placed on the countertop the last time you saw them. Luckily for you, Curly walks in at the perfect moment. When you ask for help, he gives a confident grin as he nods, stepping towards you. As expected of him.

What you didn't expect was the warm hand he placed on your hip or the way his chest pressed into your back as he grabbed exactly what you were asking for, the steady thrum of his heartbeat only making yours speed up. You're left red-faced and stuttering, nervous hands taking the packets out of his larger one.

"You're all red. If you're not feeling well, you should take a visit to Anya. I can walk you there."

JIMMY:

-> He loves it. End of. They boost his confidence in ways he didn't even know was possible. The idea of you watching him when he didn't notice was one he found sickly sweet, prideful that someone loved him as much as he deserved.

-> He was initially planning to tell you he knew after the first letter. He had dreamed about the way he'd hold your letter back to you, a sly grin as he watched you scramble for an answer, flustered before ultimately coming clean about your attempts to court him. Once he sees the second letter, however, his mindset changes.

-> It's simply too cute. The way you sneak around to keep it anonymous and the way you wear your heart on your sleeve. He's delighted by how much of your mind he occupies. It excites him to think about how much you try to learn about him. Do you know his routine by heart? What about his likes and dislikes? Better yet, were you trying to mould yourself into the perfect partner for him (although this seems more of a dream on his part than a genuine question...)? He gets a sick kick out of it.

-> He finds himself re-reading the letters in the middle of the night, the ones that point out the smallest parts of himself that you talked about so affectionately. It made him nauseous. Words so tender weren't something he came by so easily, nor was it something he believed he deserved. He's used to one-night stands, a cheap fuck, nothing so... romantic. Perhaps he could get used to this.

-> He's not going to be soft, though, as he teases you about it. Offhandedly mentions the letter and if you knew who could leave such a thing in his room and grins when you instantly deny it and make a show of him believing you. He gets incredibly touchy, too. His hands linger for a fraction longer than they need to. He stands as close to you as he can, looming over you whenever he has the time. Have you noticed the way the atmosphere changes when it's just the two of you alone? He'll look forward to your next letter. Maybe you wrote about it.

-> He could try playing the long game for once. The reward feels so much sweeter that way.

ANYA:

-> Anya is perceptive first and foremost. Rather than catching her admirer mid-delivery, she uncovers your identity through your handwriting.

-> The letters cheer her up endlessly. They're a sweet reminder of how someone adores her, even when she's overwhelmed. It's hard on board, but your letters become a routine that she looks forward to. I think she's one of the only characters who would tell you she knows, feeling guilty about leaving you in the dark about something that could embarrass you. However, she'd never ask you to stop. Anya gushes about how much she appreciates every single letter, keeping them and re-reading them when she can and she tells you how she figured it out, giggling when you stare at her like you're begging for the floor to swallow you whole.

-> Anya makes it a priority to keep you happy. Your letters do so much for her, she only wants you to feel the same. You'll find her lingering around you more, offering hugs or a shoulder to lean on whenever possible. If you're especially tired, she'll help finish your work with you. Another set of hands would always help.

-> She begins to write small compliments on her Post-it notes, leaving them in places you frequent. If you have tools you use, she places a note talking about how hardworking you are on there. Otherwise, you begin to find small notes in your room. It becomes a ritual between the both of you, sending each other letters when you can. She just wants you to know how loved you are.

DAISUKE:

-> For him!? Really!?

-> He's kicking his feet and giggling, rolling around in his bed, head buried into his pillows. If you thought you were dorky, then he's 100 times worse.

-> He's attached to your hip. You thought he was helpful and sweet? Well, he'll help you with your work! Fun to be around? In his free time, he's running to you for another round of board games or to play on his Game Boy.

-> He wouldn't know subtle if it slapped him in his face. It's unfortunate for the rest of the crew, who have to watch two love-sick adults pine for each other as if they're not reciprocated.

-> Whenever he feels especially sad, he re-reads the letters. Even if he might feel useless at times, that he doesn't have a plan for his future, he does have the assurance that you'll be there by his side. You're a great person. If you can find all these amazing things about him then... He's sure he can make something great of himself.

SWANSEA:

"Jesus, this kids got it rough."

-> That's his first thought before it slowly dissolves into a fond affection. He's a bit too old for this lovey-dovey yearning shtick, right? Initially, he finds himself sighing at the letters, wondering when and how would be the best way to stop this little game of yours. He feels undeserving of it. You have so much going for you. You simply don't deserve someone like him. He wants to push you away, but the letters mean too much to him. Instead, he becomes charmed by it all, awaiting every letter with bated breath.

-> You do know how to make him feel young again. Each letter leaves his heart pounding, feeling like a young schoolboy rather than a washed-out mechanic.

-> He keeps every single one. If you place them in little envelopes or place small gifts like stickers in them, you'll be glad to know he keeps it all in his bedside drawer.

-> He's one to return the favour, too. He's picked up a few skills with his work. Blue-collar jobs like this have enough transferable skills to help in the creative department. He hopes you're not too surprised if you find your broken items repaired or a small figure of your favourite animal made out of scraps in your room.

-> Perhaps... He's the one who's got it bad.

#mouthwashing x reader #curly x reader #mouthwashing #captain curly x reader #curly mouthwashing #daisuke x reader #gn reader #gn!reader #anya x reader #captain curly #jimmy x reader #swansea x reader #swansea mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #daisuke mouthwashing

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nana-luvy · 1 month ago

Text

. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 / 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐞 .

warnings: fluff, female!reader, cocky!Luke, daughter of Hecate!reader, short mention of telekinesis (if you're not too ok with magic), double pov, use of Y/n, foul language (kinda casual swear words but still, if you don't like em..)

In which they try to find their way to the other.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

__ His type __

It hadn’t been eventful at camp in a couple years, probably since you had come to camp. You‘d never gotten sent on a quest, as much as you would’ve loved to finally go back to the rest of the world, you had never been involved in big drama around camp, had never had your life at risk from a surprise attack in the woods and had barely even been the target of a silly prank.

Your life for the past years had mostly consisted of training, eating, sleeping and praying at the most, maybe you had squealed once in excitement the day you discovered who your godly parent was, but that was it. Over the time you’d started making friends, seeing as you barely had any half-siblings, going out with people from other cabins more than from the one you lived in, the Hermes cabin. Because, apparently, you did not deserve a half-family cabin if you weren’t child of one of the major deities. Harsh.

But over the course of the past few months, you had surprised yourself being more… full of emotions that before, and all because of a silly reason. Blame it on late blooming of teenage hormones, but you were by now knees deep in a one sided crush on Luke Castellan, a crush you considered profoundly stupid when he had basically everything to himself and could just attract anyone he’d want. You had started noticing him only recently, after years of being acquaintances ; you’d first met him a few days after reaching camp, when he apparently came back from a quest, just a 16 years old teenager, short messy brown hair and almost-chubby face in comparison to the present.

But now…. you could spend tens of minutes speaking of him, even if you would afterwards brush it off as mere observance, speaking of his looks, his personality, his habits... How he had grown taller over the span of barely a trimester, how his curl started looking so defined and shiny when he had finally started taking care of his hair after you’d spent a whole 10 minutes, at a party on the beach, dissing it. How he had this determination to him whenever he did something, like he would solely focus on it just to succeed, how he took care of the newcomers ever since he got promoted to head counselor of his cabin, making sure they had everything and didn’t feel the tiniest bit alone, even going out of his way to ensure they were comfortable after the never-ending stress that was their trip to camp. How, even through his practiced mask of kindness and laid-back attitude, he had this small tick on his face and this tilt of his head when he was annoyed, how he would always rub right over his scar first when he defeated someone during sword training…

Clarisse and Silena always made fun of you whenever you would bring Luke up, knowing they were in for a ride because it was more often than not a flow of words they couldn’t stop until it did on its own.

And it was the case just this instant.

“Argh, why do I even like guys, huh ? That’s fucking bland, I swear…” you said, throwing your arms in the air in defeat.

You were all sat at a small table, no too far from the training grounds but just a little away from the path that went towards it, so there was just a little privacy. The sun was high up in the sky and you four girls, Annabeth having joined the group after lunch, were thankful for the shadow cast upon you by the large tree above the table.

“I mean, yeah, it is, but I can’t throw the first stone at you on that one..” Selina answered, shaking her head with a small smile and a raise of her eyebrows.

“And are you reaaaally that disappointed by men, huh ? Because, weirdly, something tells me otherwise, girl.” Clarisse chimed in as she put her card down and cheered a little, playing War against an Annabeth who looked clearly exasperated by her own lack of luck. “Something with curly hair and a flirty smile.”

“Ugh, don’t even start me on him…” you replied, running your hands on your face in exaggerated frustration. “I swear, he’s so.. ugh.. Like, sure, you know, he’s cute, and he’s tall and stuff, but it’s such a pain to have a crush on a boy, you get me ? And even more when the boy knows he’s good looking and plays along. Would be so much easier with a gir-”

“Not much easier with a girl.”

“Sure, Clarisse, sure, whatever you say like you have experience.” you replied, nodding your head at her like you’d do to a child while Clarisse held back from saying something else. “I just mean, guys just feel so simple-headed but- I don’t know…”

“You do know.” Annabeth only replied in a knowing tone, not tearing her eyes from the game she was loosing against Clarisse.

“Okay yeah, I do know. It’s just- He’s so infuriating! Like-” you caught a rustle in a bush nearby on your side, head snapping towards it, but came back to the conversation when you saw nothing. “-what do you mean you flirt with every single person, you know ? I don’t mean it like I’m jealous, by the way, it’s just really misleading.” The three other girls looked between themselves with a similar, shared gaze. “It’s not even like he seems to have a type, like- bro just picks up another girl at a party, they chat or a few days and sometimes she just disappears from around him like their link never existed. What a fucking jerk…”

You mumbled the last part, furrowing your brows because it didn’t feel fair sometimes, for your heart to tug when you were thinking of someone you found so… terribly not crush material. Not that he wasn’t, but you preferred lying to yourself on the matter, enjoying the feeling of being even the littlest in control over that particular emotion that just acted on its own.

“Except he has a type- Clarisse I swear to gods, you have to be cheating ! How else do you win a war game 5 times in a row ?”

“I don’t cheat, mini-girl, it’s called talent ~” Clarisse cheered, throwing her cards in the air in victory. “And as we bet, loser cleans up, thank you in advance.”

As Annabeth sighed in defeat, crouching to pick up the cards that had slipped right under the table, you spoke up again, continuing your little dragon origami. “What do you mean he has a type ? I mean, he just seems to flirt with whatever walks his way in the slightest.”

“She’s just jealous that he doesn’t flirt with her when she walks his way.” Silena whisper-yelled at the two others, poorly hiding it behind her hand in mock confession.

“Si ? Shut up, I love you.” You did a small heart gesture your friend’s way, both apologetic and purely sarcastic.

“No I mean, I know he kinda has someone in mind, you know ? I don’t even remember when he told me that…” Except she totally remembered. Annabeth had really, really wanted it to come around naturally, but she was growing tired of the unspoken situation and the relentless talks about it.

“What- how come you never told me ? Annabeth, I plead you, give me your in-tells and I’ll give you my desserts for a whole month. During every meal. Just tell me what's his type.”

“But I can get as many as I want already, technically.”

“Then I’ll get up and go get them for you. Please.”

The younger girl raised an eyebrow, looking somewhat interested by the proposition, before letting out a sigh. “Fine, as you want, I’ll tell you what I know.”

“”Beth ? I love you too.” you said in your most serious tone.

The younger stayed silent for a little while, before parting her lips again. “Wow. You’re really love-bombing us today, huh ? Anyway, his type…” Annabeth tried her best to look like she was thinking back to find the memory, when she just had to look at the girl in front of her to find a perfect description. “He’s into girls around his age, mostly, or just barely younger, someone who doesn’t dislike fighting and even likes to put up a fight in general when she doesn’t get what she wants, dare I say kind of a lunatic-”

“Wait, what ? He’s into spoiled princesses or..?” Clarisse said, cutting Annabeth off, but it only made the latter let out a chocked out snort.

“I mean, if you say it.”

“Is there more ?” you pressed eagerly, almost gripping the side of the table without realizing.

The younger girl looked at you with raised eyebrows, but chose not to call out the obvious. “Well… he likes someone slightly crazy but still pretty nice-”

”You’re literally describing half the girls at camp.”

“Oh my gods! That’s it, I’m not helping you out. You can find out yourself if your crush likes you, girl.” she replied, trying to sound annoyed when she was totally amused by the situation. But for the sake of her sanity and her friend’s, she had to act. So she gathered the cards, threw them in her pocket, and bid her goodbyes. “See you around, and no ‘him talk’, I can’t take it anymore!”

You sat dumbfounded for a second, before looking to the two other girls who already stared at you, putting your hands up in surrender. “Yeah, alright, alright, I’ll stop…” you said, pushing yourself off the table’s bench. “See you later ?”

“See ya ~”

But the next days felt even more boring than usual, nothing happening that was out of the ordinary, so you had to entertain yourself a little. Searching for something to do while finally cleaning your bunk, which you had been meaning to do for ages, an idea popped in your mind: how about investigating to find your crush’s crush ? What could be healthier ?

You’d heard from someone who probably had heard from someone before that Luke was calmer these past few weeks, showing way less of his usual ‘flirty jock’ behavior, and many were suspecting a possible someone had been the cause. So you were decided to find out who the ‘possible someone’ was, because after all you had already come to terms with how your hopeless one-sided crush would never have a proper conclusion, and maybe this would be a way to finally get your closure.

So, pink ink pen and black notepad in hand, you went back outside to take a seat under a tree in the Cabin area, seeing campers walk around in the already hot morning, some going to the training grounds, a few Apollo kids busy with stocking back the inventory of the infirmary, a handful of demigods with their bathing suit under their camp-issued orange shirts and towels in a bag. Sitting comfortably on the soft grass, you wrote down everything Annabeth had told you the day prior, trying your best to remember her words.

“His age or a little younger, likes fighting.. stubborn, a little crazy… a girl..” you mumbled to yourself, writing it all in the bright pink ink you adored.

“Hey, Y/n! You coming to the lake with us ? Clarisse says the water is extra warm!” Chris invited, walking close to you as he got out of his cabin, a tube of sunscreen in hand. As he got closer, his eyes tried to look at the notepad before you hurriedly closed it. “What you doing ?”

“Hey- oh uh, nothing just… drawing.”

“You draw ? Since when ?” the boy continued, confused. He had known you for years now, he didn’t remember seeing you draw, you just weren’t really artsy.

“Well, since today, that’s the thing. So I’d prefer you don’t see my drawings okay ? I don’t…yeah.”

“Oh yeah, sure, I get it, totally.” Chris replied, shaking his head slowly. “Do you want to come with us to Canoe Lake though ? Clarisse and Silena are already there, and some others should be joining soon.”

The idea sounded tempting, but you were getting more and more curious as time passed, and wouldn’t want to delay you little investigation, even for hot, clean, translucent lake water. “Nah, man, sorry I’ll have to pass on that one. Maybe another day though ?”

“Yeah, sure, have a nice…drawing ~”

Chris waved before walking away, leaving you to your own mind again. You scanned over your now open notepad, trying to mentally swipe over all the people that matched the description, and writing the names down. And the names took a whole page, with a title on top of it saying “Castellan, who tf do you like (you have really generic tastes)”.

“Okay, now let’s reread it..”

‘Already dated her… they talked a while but it didn’t last.. oh maybe- no, right, already dated…’ you thought to yourself, trying to ignore the fact you had so little entertainment in life that you relied on Luke to bring the events with his misleadingly numerous relationships rumors.

After a while of crossing names out, mumbling to yourself in the shadow provided by the tall tree you were hiding under, you decided just theorizing wasn’t enough, you had to see the chemistry first hand to find the missing piece needed to unveil the answer.

So you got up, dusting the grass and dried weeds off your clothes before lightly walking towards the training ground. It felt like the boy spent most of his time there, surrounded by a swarm of little flies he did his best to keep around as he fought with all his might every time they were looking. One of your worst fear was probably to become one of said flies.

You had aimed right as you came around the training area, hearing loud cheering from a group of other girls sitting next to the wooden swords rack, Aphrodite and Apollo daughters, among others, hand in hand to cheer on their number one boy who made his personal crowd roar with a look its way.

You took a seat not too far, under a tree again, well aware that the 11am sun would burn your sensitive skin if you stayed under its rays too long, resting your back against the trunk and trying to examine the scene unfolding in front of your eyes. Luke was fighting with a boy from the Ares Cabin, his name was… Lyle ? He had been at camp for a year or so, not too bad of a fighter of course, but…

The group on the side started to loudly cheer and applause as the curly haired boy tackled his opponent to the ground, the tip of his sword right under his chin in a perfect warrior stance, and even you couldn’t help your gaze from softening in awe : you’d seen him fight and win so many times before, at training, capture the flag, all of those, but there was just something so mesmerizing in the energy he’d put in each combat and the determination in his eyes as he’d let his sword slash through the air.

From your own space, you tried to study all interactions, hoping to get anything that’d help shorten your still very long list of names: who Luke shot his flirty look too, who he’d grace with a word from his lips or a smile, as fake and empty as it may be. But you were totally taken aback when, upon barely waving at the magnificent Drew Tanaka that batted her long lashes at him, the boy started walking right your way, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“Y/n, hey ~” he simply started, stopping a couple feet in front of you as you still sat on the dry grass. “What are you doing here ? I figured you’d be at the lake with the others.”

“And I figured you’d be with the others.” you quickly answered, trying to close your notepad as casually and discreetly as possible.

“Yet here you are, staring at me from afar. Who would’ve thought.”

“Yet here you are, speaking to me like this isn’t the most words we’ve ever exchanged when no friends surround us. Who would’ve thought ~” you replied, an angelic smile playing on your her lips in response.

Luke’s smile only stretched more. “Ladies and gentleman, she fights back!” he exclaimed with a laugh, talking to his imaginary crowd before crossing his arms over his chest, flexing the muscles involuntarily like it didn’t have you melting to a puddle right there in front of him. “No but seriously, what are you doing here ? Wanna spare a little ?”

“With you ? To lose with not a single hope to ever win ? No thanks, I’m g-”

“What’s this ?” the boy cut through you sentence, crouching in a second to snatch the notepad that still sat on your crossed legs, flipping through the first pages. “Waw, your commitment to living in pink is insane, hard to believe you’re not a daughter of Aphrodite sometimes.”

You heard him mutter something you couldn’t make out but brushed it off, immediately trying to catch the pages from his hands, only to fall forward on your knees as he got up and took a step back quickly. “Give me the notepad, Castellan!”

“Oh wait- That’s your special pancake recipe? I guess the peanuts really add something huh ?”

“My notepad!”

Definitely not wanting to chase after the child he was acting like, you simply used her telekinesis, the only control you had over your still weak magic granted by your goddess of a mother, sending the notepad flying from Luke’s hands right into yours. You immediately ripped the list from the little book, folding it messily and putting it in your jorts’ back-pocket. “You never act as an adult, do you ?”

“Nahhh, I still have one year of being a teenager, and I sure as Hells will make the best of it.” he said, turning around going back to you in long strides with a pout on his lips.

You rolled your eyes, turning around in direction of the Cabin Area and away from him, though you could hear him try to keep up and a small smile crept up your lips. But the smile turned upside down as the boy almost ran in front of you, raising the paper high so you could see it in his hands while he read. Your eyes widened significantly, patting your back-pockets frantically and realizing he had just swiftly took the page from you, but before you could properly react, he crumpled the paper in a ball and tossed it in his back, colliding with your head.

“You forgot the right name on that list, dumbass.” Luke started, walking away and throwing his hand up in a two-fingered peace sign. “G’luck, moonbeam ~”

After a couple seconds of standing still, dumbfounded, you roared. “Castellan! Come back here!” But the boy only let out a laugh before sprinting away, escaping your reach quickly as you were left panting, laying your back on a Cabin. “When I catch you, Luke…”

Your cheeks were heated now, probably from the running, or that’s what you told yourself, because you couldn’t help but hear it echoing in your ears. ‘Moonbeam… What the actual fuck, Castellan?’ And here you were, back to first ground, trying to convince yourself you could keep your feelings in check.

__ Her type __

The sun had been up for a while now, and Chris was doing his best to get Luke to come out of bed, but nothing would make him budge : every time the guy woke him up, the brunette would only groan, grip his pillow tighter and turn around, immediately going back to sleep.

“Dude, you’re gonna make us miss breakfast.” Chris pressed, whisper-yelling to try and avoid being too harsh, but he was slowly loosing patience.

“Shut up, ‘wanna finish my dream, go eat by yourself…” the other boy mumbled against his sheets, shuffling to get comfortable again.

But it was enough. Chris went to pick up clothes from Luke’s stuff, before throwing them right in his face. “Get out of bed right now, or I’m dunking a bucket of ice cold water on your body.” he deadpanned, and the counselor shot straight out of bed, putting a shirt on and nearly jumping in his pants.

“Ok I’m ready.”

The whole way to the Dining Pavilion, Luke was like a broken record on the verge of getting strangled by his best friend. Birds were chirping in the early morning, chatter noises were coming from further down the path and the sun already felt warm on his skin, but his mind could only think of one thing.

“Man, I can’t believe you just cut me through the best dream ever…”

“Yeah? And what was it about for you to be all whiny about it ?” Chris queried, starting to gain a forced curiosity from his best friend’s rambling.

“Uh… I...don’t remember?” The brunette said, trying to sound convincing and natural, looking straight in front of him, but the slightly unsure tone in his voice betrayed him.

Which caused a fit of laughter from his friend. “Oh-oh, man, were you seriously having a we-”

“No! No of course not! Why would you think that-”

“Yeah, sure, then about what, huh ? Because you seem very guilty of… Man, tell me you didn’t have… a romantic dream?” Chris’ smile only grew more teasing when the other boy’s face visibly heated up, not uttering a word. He put an arm around the flustered boy’s shoulders dramatically. “Well look at that, little Luke Castellan finally growing out of his heartless era ? I thought I wouldn’t live long enough to see it.”

“Awh shut up, bro…” he muttered, tearing his friend off him. “It’s not even that big of a deal…”

“Not that big of a deal? Nah, Luke, be for real. I’ve rarely seen you as… disinterested before. Like- you just wave people away instead of throwing the biggest narcissistic dickhead smile their way. And I mean it in all friendship-ness.”

“Yeah, of course you do, you little-”

“Hey, I have you seen her today? She’s so…”

Both Hermes sons turned their head in direction of a loud voice just a few feet behind them, seeing two guys from the Aphrodite Cabin walk closely behind them, deep in a conversation too.

“Who again ? Oh right, Silena’s friend. That witch girl with the…weird aura.”

Luke frowned. ‘What the hell are they talking about?’

“Yeah, gods, she just has that bod, bro… I mean, I wouldn’t even mind dating her if it means I can get her to give me some of that magic.” one of the two guys said, ending with a proud laugh, full of himself as the other joined. “Plus, I swear, she always wears those short tops and skirts, man, she’s basically asking for it at that point.”

Luke’s fists tightened as he understood who the subject of the conversation was, brows furrowing at the guy’s words, yet he knew he was in no place to say anything. Because he was one of those guys who didn’t give a crap about morals or feelings, one of those who knew the trouble they caused and played along.

He enjoyed it, the attention, having girls fawn over a practiced look, people naturally coming to him because he just had this kind of presence. But now, trying to distance himself from this persona of his, maybe he realized just how awful he might have sounded.

‘You weakling, questioning yourself because of a girl? Dumbass.’ Luke thought to himself, tousling his hair in frustration as he finally entered the dining area. Barely a few months ago, he never would’ve imagined being this kind of guy, the guy who tries to slow down his everyday life to become whatever a girl could like. But again, he knew in himself it wasn’t just any girl, because just any girl wouldn’t haunt his nights so good he’d rather sleep than do anything else.

You were… this whole deal to him: one of the most precious things he could wish to ever see, and still the one thing he rejected all he could. Because part of him was screaming that this was not the kind of guy he was, screaming that settling down at this point in life just wasn’t for him. But over time, the idea just couldn’t stop seeping into his mind, and again, you were just so…

He had first met you when he came back from his failed quest, not at his best in any possible way, when you had barely started your new life, and he just saw a part of himself in you, mirroring this feeling of being…lost. And maybe, just maybe, back then, he lacked the courage to go talk to you when he should have. But years went by, you barely interacted except for extended group hangouts and gatherings, and he forgot along the way. Yet for some reason, you had found a way back in his mind out of nowhere, like a magic so strong even you, daughter of Hecate, couldn’t conjure. It was like meeting you all over again, that one day he saw you out late at the edge of the forest, laying in the grass and watching the moon glow. He started noticing you around more after that, maybe just paying attention more, his eyes drawn to your figure in the crowds, his ears searching for the sound of you voice as you roared and fought on the training grounds during the day.

And after months of going against himself, of denying how he knew deep down he felt, he stopped fighting the feeling. And apparently, everyone around him had noticed and couldn’t stop bothering him with unpleasant questions about why, oh why, he was loosing what they called his ‘player mojo’. But he dismissed it every time, not needing anyone in his business when even him wasn’t able to take care of it.

Luke was playing with a few other guys, on their way to the training grounds while passing a ball between them all, either tossing it gently to the next or full on throwing it over their head. It was more of the second for Luke as Connor threw the ball in his direction, it landing way out of track, near the forest’s edge.

“Man, come on!”

“Hey, you could’ve tried to jump and catch it.” Travis replied with a laugh, elbowing his twin playfully.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever…”

Luke wandered off the path, walking behind a row of bushes and crouching down to retrieve the ball that had rolled into them.

“…know, he’s cute, and he’s tall and stuff, but it’s such a pain to have a crush on a boy, you get me ?”

Wait, was that… you ? Luke raised his head over the bushes, forgetting all about the ball for an instant as all he registered was the voice that made his ears perk up every time he heard it. ‘What- what’s she talking about ?’ He searched for the origins of the voices for a second, before his eyes fell on a small picnic table and four girls gathered around it, some playing cards and two others just talking.

“You do know.”

“Ok yeah, I do know. It’s just- He’s so infuriating!”

Luke shifted absentmindedly as he got curious about the conversation for some reason, words echoing in his mind. ‘She likes someone ?’ But as he moved his hand, his fingers slipped over the smooth surface of the ball he hadn’t realized was there, stumbling forward into the leaves of the bush. At least the branches hadn’t scratched his skin.

He heard the girl pause for a second, probably noticing the sudden ruffle in the bushes, and he made sure to duck down as much as possible, before realizing how stupid this could’ve looked : why the Hells would he ever try this much not to be discovered over just a simple conversation between friends of his. But deep down, his mind had his answer: he needed to know more.

“-ot even like he seems to have a type, like- bro just picks up another girl at a party, they chat or a few days and sometimes she just disappears from around him like their link never existed. What a fucking jerk…”

Who was that guy? Because Luke was really starting to think that you hated your crush more than you liked him, seeing how harsh your words sounded spoken with this tone of hers. But really, what kind of jerk would that be, going around and making head spins like and leaving like it was nothing? Talk about playboy move… Who was it, really? No name had been spoken, barely a physical description… The brunette was already trying to go through all people he knew at camp that might fit the description, but-

“Luke, what the fuck are you doing ? We’ve been waiting for you forever..”

Luke snapped back to reality as Travis came up to him, his look questioning.

“Oh yeah, shoot, sorry. I couldn’t find the ball and then I just, tripped on my own leg. And here I am.” he replied, but his friend only looked at him more confused.

“Ok, whatever. Let’s just go back okay ? Because today is the day I beat your ass!”

“You wish you ever could ~”

They walked back to the rest of the small group, resuming the tossing with not much further question, before Luke spoke up.

“How much do you guys know about Y/n?”

There was a short silence, Chris keeping the ball tight between his hands as they all came to a stop, and Charles spoke first the words everyone thought.

“No fucking way. Y/n ? As in our cabin’s Y/n ? As in daughter of Hecate Y/n ?”

“Uh… Yeah? Are there other Y/n…?” Luke simply answered, not quite understanding the shock that covered his friends’ faces.

“There was another one a year ago. One you dated, by the way, you jock.” Chris threw back with a smirk. “But damn, little Y/n huh ?”

Luke mentally face palmed at the first statement. “I don’t know if I’d say little considering she’s older than you but uh- why are you so…”he started, gesturing to the surprised faces in front of him, “-expressive, all of you ? I mean, I just asked how well you knew her, I think..?”

Connor slapped his brother’s shoulder with a grin on his face and a mischievous look in his eyes. “Told ya it wasn’t an Aphrodite girl, bro!”

“Yeah, yeah, so much fuss over so little…” the other twin groaned.

As the other guys exchanged knowing looks and laughs, Luke was just standing there, confused about the whole situation. “What is happening, exactly ? I’m starting to feel a little excluded here.”

It was Charles that spoke up again. “We just can’t believe you finally admitted who you’ve been liking so much that you got off the market, bro.” The boy came closer, putting his arm over Luke’s shoulders and squeezing his arm playfully. “So, her, huh ? I mean, yeah i get it, she’s kinda-”

“Don’t finish that sentence or you’ll have to build yourself a new tongue.”

The others erupted in laughter at Luke’s threat, patting him on the back as the brunette held his face down in embarrassment, because it probably was the first time his friends could tease him on the subject, and they were catching up on all the missed opportunities.

“Would you look at that? Luke so into a girl he looses his mojo, who would’ve thought ~”

“You know what, guys ? He even stays in bed an skips breakfast just so he can dream about her for lo-” Chris started, his friend quickly shutting him up with a hand over his mouth, a reaction that only caused more laughter.

“Oh shut the fuck up!”

They were almost to the training grounds, the teasing had died down just a little bit, when Luke asked his first question again, this time the others only throwing amused looks before answering.

“Hmmm I don’t really talk to her much, y’know? I just see her around from time to time. Isn’t she lesbian though ?”

“Wha- No!” the brunette replied instantly, somewhat offended. “I’m not that stupid, thank you. At least from what I heard, she’s into a boy, so-”

“Oh so she’s into someone already ? Who ?” Chris chimed in from behind his back.

“I don’t know, I didn’t heard any name, just some tall dude that sounds like a total jerk…” Luke mumbled.

“Sounds like you to me.”

“Get back here you little-” He said, turning around to try and catch a running Chris shielding himself behind Connor. “I don’t even know why I’m asking you all, it’s not like you have anything interesting to say anyway.. Let’s just get to practice, I’m getting frustrated with all of this.” Luke continued in mock bitterness, sending them an amused smile.

Travis bolted in direction of the training grounds just ahead of them. “Race ya!”

“Morning, bro.” Chris greeted with a quick fist bump. “You doing something this morning?”

“Hmmm I got a practice this morning, and a short teaching session for some newcomers. Why ?” his friend answered, putting on his orange t-shirt.

“Ah sheep, I was gonna tell you some of us were planning on spending the morning at the lake, they say the water is particularly warm this morning. And I thought you could’ve asked you-know-who to come too, to…y’know...”

“Ha ha, you’re so fun Chris, but I’m not gonna ditch helpless kids, sorry. Also, since when do actually you censor yourself ?” Luke asked, weirded out by this change in character as he put his shoes back on.

“Well, I too am on a path to redemption, at my own level.”

The brunette let out a scoff. “Yeah, sure. See ya.”

Luke spent the next few hours on the training grounds, slashing at practice dummies in wood and straw with his dominant arm, trying to reproduce the same moves with the other and building his technique like he did almost everyday. He found a sparring partner in a younger boy, Lyle, son of Ares and at camp since barely a year but who’s blood made him a worthy opponent. Maybe not worthy enough to take Luke’s title as camp’s best swordsman nonetheless.

The Ares boy relied on brute force against the other fighter, who knew exactly how to use it against him, nimbly sliding in his back an hitting the back of his knees when Lyle lunged forward, too late to reach Luke. Falling on his knees, the brunette was quick to go back in front of him, pointing the tip of his sword right under his chin, declaring his undisputed victory while he could hear a loud clamor of shouts and applause roaring in his back. Luke extended his hand for his partner to take, offering to help him up.

“Oh shoot, who’s this ?” Lyle said in a hushed tone, speaking to Luke while he looked behind his shoulder. The curly haired boy followed his gaze, confused, before his eyes fell on your figure. You were under a tree, looking away from him and towards the small crowd on his side, the light filtering through the leaves and hitting your face like a perfect halo, enhancing your features in a way that looked surreal. “She’s ho-”

Luke instantly let go of his hand, letting the Ares boy fall back to the ground and looking down at him while he groaned in discomfort. “Yeah no, forget about her, pretty boy. She’s way out of your league.”

The blond scoffed at the advice. “And what, she’s in yours ?”

“Yeah, nice joke, Lyle, like I could ever try to compare..”

Turning his back on Lyle, Luke went towards the small wooden bench, going to dab himself with a small towel and drinking down almost all the content in his water bottle. Resting for just a second, head hanging low and elbows on his thighs, he raised his gaze just enough so he could see you, still under that tree that shielded your skin from the angry rays of the summer sun, writing away on a small black notepad. What could you be doing, ther-

“Hey ~”

Luke snapped his head up, seeing Drew standing just a few feet from him, fluttering her long lashes his way. He thought he could decipher her intentions, but if it would’ve worked just a few weeks ago, now he didn’t have any interest in whatever she could try to talk him into. So he lifted himself off the bench, barely sparring her a glance.

“Hey.” he dryly said, paired with a small wave, before starting to walk towards the tree, and more precisely the girl seated right under it. This time when he spoke up, his tone was warm, light-hearted when he said,

“Y/n, hey ~”

Luke almost jogged the last few meters, wanting to close the distance between you two quickly, before stopping a few feet away. After somewhat coming to terms with what he felt, it was almost a little weird to be close to you like that : the small fluttering in his stomach, his heart rate quickening, the warmth that was spreading through his body and plastered a smile on his face ; they were all signs so foreign to him.

“What are you doing here ? I figured you’d be at the lake with the others.”

“And I figured you’d be with the others.” you replied quickly, and from the corner of his eyes, he could see you close the notepad discreetly, your fingers seeming somewhat trembling over the cover as you nervously played with a pink pen with the other hand.

“Yet here you are, staring at me from afar. Who would’ve thought.” Luke’s eyes slightly narrowed as he joked back, subtly testing the waters to see how willing you might be to keep the conversation going, given how rarely you talked in settings like this, just the two of you.

“Yet here you are, speaking to me like this isn’t the most words we’ve ever exchanged when no friends surround us. Who would’ve thought ~” you said, and your smile, as sarcastic as it must’ve been, had Luke’s legs feel like jello all of a sudden.

His grin only widened, corners flipped up and almost displaying his pearly teeth before exclaiming, “Ladies and gentleman, she fights back!”, a laugh accompanying his statement as he threw his arms in the air theatrically. A little chuckle escaped your lips, one he could only choose to take as an invitation to more conversation, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “No but seriously, what are you doing here ? Wanna spare a little ?” he continued with a more cheeky expression.

You cocked an eyebrow up, as if you were the utmost offended by the proposition, both pointer fingers coming to point at the boy in front of you. “With you ? To lose with not a single hope to ever win ? No thanks, I’m g-”

Luke took advantage of your little loss of focus to crouch down to your level and snatch the notepad from your lap, your face instantly displaying shock and.. a little look of mortification. “What’s this ? Waw, your commitment to living in pink is insane, hard to believe you’re not a daughter of Aphrodite sometimes.” he added with a little laugh as he skipped through the pages, seeing the pink scribbles and doodles adorning the pages in multiple shades. “One of the things that make me believe you are..” he mumbled, his eyes widening a little when he realized he’d said it out-loud, but you probably hadn’t heard or understood it as you didn’t bring it up.

He stood up and took a step back just before you lunged his way to reach for your belonging. “Give me the notepad, Castellan!”

But he was having too much fun, teasing you a way he wouldn’t usually try to, flipping through the pages while walking away and seeing you glowering at him in a mix of exasperation and indignation. But it was his time to be surprised when the notepad flew from his hands back to yours. ‘Right, Hecate’s kid, always so full of surprises…’

“You never act as an adult, do you ?” you asked rhetorically and Luke turned around, walking back to you with a pouty smile dancing on his mouth, seeing you slip a small piece of paper in the back-pocket of your bottoms.

“Nahhh, I still have one year of being a teenager, and I sure as Hells will make the best of it.” Luke only replied with a proud expression, faking a small bow and he couldn’t hold in a chuckle as he saw you roll your eyes. But as you started walking away, he caught up to you discreetly, nimbly getting the paper sticking out of your back-pocket before he rushed past you, starting to read the page while holding it up in the air for you to see.

But his mischievous smile faltered slightly when he read the content of the paper : “Castellan, who tf do you like (you have really generic tastes)”.

First pang to the heart, he did not have generic taste, unless you considered a witty, sweet, hard-headed, mesmerizing and all-roundly skilled demi-goddess to be generic. Second pang to the heart, all the names listed down, some crossed out, some circled to stand out… was this how you saw him ? They were all girls about his age, the removed names the ones of some he had a fling of some sort with, the names standing out being those of girls like Piper or Drew, the ones that caught most eyes at camp. But not his, not anymore, and he couldn’t see the one right name anywhere on the paper.

So he crumpled the small sheet, tossing it behind him and almost bursting out in laughter as he heard a small ‘ouch’ behind him, probably hitting you right in the face. “You forgot the right name on that list, dumbass.” Luke started, doing a peace gesture above his shoulder. “G’luck, moonbeam ~” he only said, the nickname rolling off his tongue like he’d used it all his life.

And as he heard you yell behind him, the boy quickly turned towards the cabins, hiding on the side of the Athena one. He finally let out the nervous laugh he was holding, relaxing against the cabin and he couldn’t stop himself from laughing at the unlikeliness of the situation. He, Luke Castellan, liked a girl he didn’t even talk to on a daily basis, with whom he was barely friends if not for their mutual ones, and that probably considered him the most obnoxious jock she knew. And just a few weeks ago, you would’ve been right to see him as such, but now that he was trying to redeem himself, a little for himself and a little for you too, he was catching you almost investigating his nonexistent love life, while putting aside any possibility of you being in the equation. How was he supposed to interpret all that ? The Gods’ design was indeed one you couldn’t predict.

“What are you laughing at like a manic ?”

The boy almost jumped in surprise, Annabeth appearing just like magic next to him, before letting out a loud exhale. “Wow, hello to you too…” he replied, dismissive.

But she appeared totally unfazed, crossing her arms over her chest in a knowing stance, like she could read all over his face what was going on in his mind when even him had a hard time deciphering his thoughts. “What’s so funny I can hear you laughing from inside the cabin? I swear it better be worth stopping me from my reading.”

“I- nothing’s funny, I’m just.. trying out laugh therapy, you know ? Stress reliever and all…” His words and his wonky smile only earned him a raised eyebrow from the younger. “Okay, what? What do you want me to say ?”

“The truth, that’d actually be pretty great.”

“The truth ? Well the truth is… I don’t even know. I told you about… you-know-who, right ?”

“Extensively, yeah.”

Luke marked a pause before continuing, throwing Annabeth an annoyed glare she chose to ignore, for his sake. “Well, I don’t know how and why, but apparently she heard that I… was interested in someone..”

“Understatement of the century.”

He did a short pause again, marking his growing frustration known. “Anyways, the problem is that now she’s literally playing Sherlock Holmes on me, Annabeth. And she’s gonna find out at some point, you know how smart she is. And then I’ll be the idiot who, out of all his very broad possibilities, likes a girl who doesn’t like him back.” As he spoke, he took his head in his hands, massaging his temples: the mere idea of this situation happening was giving him a headache, and for too much reasons.

“Ok, so, that’s very narcissistic-”

“Or does she like me? Is that why she’s writing a list? Maybe that’s the reason, yeah.. Maybe she’s trying to figure out if she has a shot.. But then why would she talk about this other guy, it doesn’t make sense-” Head low, deep in thought, Luke saw from the corner of his eyes the girl’s foot tapping on the ground, sign of her growing boredom, and he stopped his unintelligible muttering. “Annabeth do you know anything? I mean, you guys are like, really close friends, right? She talks to you about those stuff, you must know something.”

The girl scoffed, throwing her long braids over her shoulder with sass before looking up straight into Luke’s eyes, challenging him with a single gaze. “I know that you better shut up before I put my cap on and literally disappear from this conversation.” she started, getting her blue cap from her jeans’ back-pocket, dangling it around to show him how serious her threat was. “I also know that even if I knew something, I wouldn’t tell you, because seeing you struggling and at a girl’s beck and call is the gift the gods offered me, today.”

The curly head opened his mouth in disbelief, closing it as he tried to find his words. “Traitor.”

She exaggerated his reaction, openly making fun of Luke, hand hovering over her mouth in mock shock. “But but but- Desperate puppy.” she then deadpanned.

“You’re disloyal.”

“You’re stupid. Bye ~” The girl quickly waved at him, the biggest smile etched on her face, before popping her cap on and disappearing into thin air.

__ His type __

For someone who craved a day just a tad bit more eventful than the usual, now that it unfolded in front of your eyes, you just found it weird, because things just felt…off.

Maybe it was the strong heat that waved over camp since the day before, but you were finding yourself almost unable to sleep, tossing and turning, your thoughts eventually wandering to the same question: who does Luke like? And you didn’t understand why you were suddenly so obsessed with it: were you that bored of your everyday life? or… No, you were over that silly crush, you had come to terms with how it’d inevitably end, so you were obviously just bored and intrigued. But as you thought about it a couple nights in a row, you swore there was a little voice screaming at your inner monologue, something you couldn’t quite decipher.

Maybe it was the heat getting to your head, but Annabeth seemed… on edge? Or maybe more mischievous than usual? She whispered with Percy when you passed by, which you clearly noticed after it happened ‘randomly’ more than half a dozen times, but you couldn’t make out any word, and it only made you more curious: why was she throwing you those side glances? What was happening?

Maybe it was your eyes playing tricks, but you could’ve sworn Luke was avoiding you. But the weirdest was that he was also completely not. Because, would it be out on the training grounds or inside the forever packed Hermes Cabin, you sometimes caught him speaking with your siblings, and by the time you got close enough to try and eavesdrop, he’d catch sight of you and flee in a hurry, and you could barely hear a faint ‘Don’t tell’ before he was gone. Sometimes, you’d go to your half-brother, who’d just answer with a small shrug and an ‘I don’t know, he just had a random question’ before throwing you a confused look and dismissing the subject. And at the same time, Luke talked to you way more than usual, it felt completely out of the ordinary: if he was not in an avoidance mood, he’d at least say hi when he was passing by, sometimes even going out of his path to just greet you, asking how you were and biding you a good day before going back to his business.

The problem was now the raging conflict inside of you, parts of yourself knowing it was just friendly, because what else could it be, and parts of yourself gaining too much hope from it, like the situation had changed and your feelings could freely full-power-resurface. But as much as you could usually be in control of your emotions, now the chaos tended to peak out, and you’d have to try not to blush like a 13 years old. Like right now.

You were simply sat at a table outside in a pretty empty area near some strawberry fields, tapping the blunt side of your pink pen against your lower lip, slightly nipping at the cap or drumming your fingers on the length of it, eyes trained to the new list in your notepad —the old one to crumpled and written on to use. But as you racked your brain for something else, you just couldn’t find it, anybody else who could make the list, you didn’t remember who you could’ve forgotten-

“Moonbeam, hey!”

You snapped your head up as you heard someone yell the unique nickname from further, coming from the cabins area towards you, and saw a head of messy curls waving their arm high up before lightly jogging your way. And as much as the more rational part of you tried to scream inside your head, you couldn’t contain a light blush : the faint idea of the boy you hopelessly liked ever running to you, a beaming smile adorning his face, was enough to make your face burn, so to see your daydreaming fantasy happening- you felt lightheaded, weak in the knees, like melting in a puddle.

__ Her type __

The last few days had been unusual for Luke, but not in the worst of ways, he just made everything he could to get used to it, because, as different from his usual self as it was, he felt like he was just in sync with himself and what he actually wanted.

But the problem was that he quickly realized that what he wanted, others wanted too.

“Hey, Cam, wait up!”

Luke jogged to the boy, after just finishing a training session he lead. He wasn’t specifically close to him, having just talked here and there since they were in the same cabin, but he knew him to be a son of Hecate, one of your half-brothers.

“Oh, hi Luke, how you doing ?” Cameron answered after turning around towards the voice, quickly fist bumping the other guy when he came closer.

“Good, I’m fine. I just had a quick question-”

“Sure, shoot.”

“I…” Luke was having a little trouble finding the right sentence, not wanting to appear as completely soft as he had gone, trying to make his intentions a little discreet, but struggling to find words. “How well would you say you know Y/n ?” Let��s just say he mentally face palmed at his words.

Cameron stifled a laugh. “Dude we’re like barely over half a dozen siblings, I would say I know her pretty well. Why ?” He marked a small pause, before saying, “You know your ears are like, bright red, right ?”

“I- no. Shut up.”

“Mmmmh, you’re very convincing.”

“Please don’t tell anyone about anything you might think you know from this conversation. Which won’t be true.” It only earned him a loud fit of laughter from the boy in front of him. “Okay whatever- Do you happen to know.. if she might like someone ? Or maybe her type ? Anything about… this field of information ?”

Cameron tried to contain his amusement, seeing the usual confident and smug Luke being so… caught up in his feels. “Nah man, sorry, I don’t know anything. I mean, I did overhear her talking about some dude but it was like, 3 months ago, easy, so not sure.”

“Really? Nothing else you might have he-” Luke cut himself short when catching the annoyed cocked brow facing him. “Yeah, okay, thanks..”

“No problem, but man, between us: I don’t think you’re the only one after her, might wanna hurry.” Cameron replied with a knowing smirk, before waving to someone behind him. “She’s coming this way, just saying.”

“Wha- who- Shit.” The boy slightly panicked, hearing your voice greeting them both, and his legs grew a mind of their own, fleeing the scene before you reached his side and turning a corner to go back to his cabin.

But as he took his post-training shower, Luke couldn’t help but wonder: what should he do? Did he even have a chance? Because, let’s face it, you two had never been more than acquaintances for years, meeting here and there by coincidence because you were following friends, and the idea that you might’ve grown the same feelings in this context was an unreachable fantasy. One he shouldn’t bring himself to hope for, even more now that he realized he might not be the only one wanting to be the one in your thoughts like you wee in his.

And yet…

There was still this spark inside of him, one that made him want to bang his head on the wall of the small shower cubicle from how stupid it made him feel. Because he knew, deep inside, he hoped that he wasn’t the only one who had taken notice so late.

So it’s in the shower, under the cold running water, that he decided that there would be no more mourning what wouldn’t happen, but rather steps in the good direction, your direction: he’d do anything if it could mean a reciprocated spark.

And Luke was a man of his words. To a certain extent. If he quickly left, tail between his legs, each time you approached close enough to hear him talking about you, asking away to anyone you knew who had their chances with you, he stood his own ground when he was the one to instigate the interaction. He greeted you each chance he’d get, going out of his way to have the most trivial conversation about whatever book you were reading he didn’t know a thing about, wishing you a good day out of nowhere or removing a speck of pollen flying in your hair while you talked to him. And his friends teasing him about it was worth any word that would pass your lips for him to hear or the blush that dusted your cheeks when his fingers brushed your skin in the lightest touch.

The brunette parted from his friends, excusing himself for what he had called ‘needed personal time after being too much with you jocks’, and they had inevitably cooed at him, telling him to spend a delightful afternoon in a certain girl’s company. And if his eyes rolled to Mount Olympus back, he couldn’t think of a clever comeback as they were totally right.

He quickly spotted you, sitting not far from the strawberry fields, the smell wafting to his nose — and yet he couldn’t help but compare it to the smell of your hair that filled him every time he passed you by —, and being who he was, he couldn’t help but yell your name from across the clearing, waving his arm in the air as he ran your way.

“Moonbeam, hey!”

Luke couldn’t help the smile that crept up his face as he came closer, seeing a fresh piece of paper covered in pink ink in front of you just before you turned the notepad facing down.

“Well, you’re that much interested, huh ?”

“I- No, I’m just bored, and-”

“And I’m so interesting you couldn’t help but do a deep dive on me ?” Luke cut you off, raising an eyebrow in the most smug demeanor you could witness, a smirk tugging at his lips;

You sighed deeply, shaking your head. “And I had so little idea of what to do that I had to take the last thing left in my mind.”

“So I'm on your mind ?”

He knew it was silly, he knew it wasn’t based on anything real, but the flicker of hope was glimmering in his chest. Flirting was second nature to him and, as arrogant as it may sound, he usually didn’t have much response on the other side other than fluttering eyelashes and shy smiles, so he enjoyed this little game. Like a cat and mouse game where you were both battling to be the cat.

“Do you know you’re actually insufferable? Just making sure you’re aware.”

“I think the word you were looking for is charming but it’s alright, we’re all dyslexic around here.”

“That’s not even- whatever.” And right after you rolled your eyes in annoyance, but Luke saw a sparkle light up in them the same instant. “By the way, call me Sherlock, I found it.”

The boy’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but he couldn’t help but throw in a joke to keep the light mood going. “Are you high on strawberry leaves ? What do you mean ?”

“I- unbelievable.” you huffed out, cheeks dusting in pink from confusion-fueled embarrassment. “I mean I know who ‘the fuck’ you like.” you stated, mimicking quotes with your fingers to reference the title of your list. And boy did his face fall.

You didn’t miss the flicker of annoyance that crossed his face, startling you a little: that little twitch on his face with the slight tilt of his head, an expression you’d always found pretty amusing and almost endearing, now seeing it directed your way… it was intimidating. What could’ve caused him to react like that ?

Little did you know, on his end, it wasn’t annoyance, only masked apprehension, fearful apprehension.

Your guts started to twist before Luke’s face relaxed again, and you took in a deep breath.

“Okay, shoot then, I guess…” the boy replied, awkwardly scratching his nape, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes seemed to search yours.

You let a moment of silence pass between the two of you, before scrunching your nose with a smile. “Nah, I lied. But I’m close though, I’m sure!”

There was an awkward instant where he didn’t answer anything, and you thought your enthusiasm might’ve weirded him out, but his face broke in laughter the next, nearly bending in half as you stood there, unable to tell if you should laugh with him or be utterly mortified.

“Wow, Moonbeam… You’re another breed alright!” he exclaimed, simply unable to stop laughing at your reaction, and you swore you could see a glint of something more behind his fluttering lashes. “You really wanna know, don’t you…”

“Well I- I told you, I’m bored and easily entertained…” you replied, red growing on your cheeks as you crossed your arms over your chest in defense.

“That’s really contradictory, moonbeam.”

“I- shut up, I’m tired.” Again with that stupid nickname, so stupid it sent butterflies flying in your stomach —stupid blood capillaries.

Luke only rolled his eyes in response, getting closer to you and going around the table to take a seat in front of you, swiftly snatching the notepad from your loosened grasp.

“Hey-”

“Wow, you’re really off. Guess you’re not as close as you think.” Luke couldn’t help but tease, and you threw him a glare, a mix of frustration, indignation and… maybe even a tinge of desperation. Curiosity might’ve gotten the best of you by now.

“Yeah well, who would’ve thought camp’s perfect jock would actually be hard to understand…” You rolled your eyes, tearing your gaze from his figure as you gave up on trying to conceal the piece of paper.

“Wow, getting the claws out now, are we ?” The boy only spurred you on, loving the feeling of warmth pooling in him each time you looked at him with those fiery eyes he couldn’t believe he’d noticed so late.

“You’re a frustrating person, that’s all… But how am I wrong though ? I’m fully convinced I’ve thought of nearly everyone…” Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared down at you fidgeting fingers on the table, trying to grasp at anything you could’ve missed.

You couldn’t see it, but the way Luke’s gaze softened was noticeable for anyone that might’ve been around, his eyes almost screaming whatever was going through his head, and Annabeth would’ve smacked the back of his head if she’d seen him, from how much he annoyed her yet said nothing when he was so obvious.

“I mean, it’s impossible I haven’t put your crush’s name on the list at one point, she’s- Or are you bi?”

If he had been drinking, Luke would’ve spat his drink immediately, coughing up a laugh at your question, unable to hide the disbelief that displayed on his face. “W-what ?”

“Yeah nah okay… Or worse, are you into… a minor?”

His laugh only doubled at your statement, properly unable to hold it in as he saw the faux horrified look grow on your face. “Dear gods no! You might not believe me when I say it, but I do still have some morals.” It took him some time to calm down, a tear threatening to fall from his eye from the amusement you brought along with your bluntness. He stopped you before you could say anything more scandalous. “You know what, just hand me your pen.”

You gave him the pen promptly, your hand reacting before you registered the question and you looked at Luke, confused as to what he’d- no way.

On the other side of the table. Luke’s head was ringing, convinced he maybe should’ve thought twice before offering to solve her investigation, his hand shaking as he took the pen between his fingers, his heart hammering in his chest as he tried to think of how he could get out of the situation. But maybe it was just time, he just had to come clean, to stop the faint tugging in his chest when he saw you laugh with someone else; to stop the longing he felt when he looked at the moon out the window on sleepless nights, wondering if you were looking too when you weren’t sleeping in your bunk; to stop wondering if you’d ever catch the yearning in his eyes every time he talked to you, never wanting those moments to end.

And maybe to shut up his friends too, just maybe.

He had barely started scribbling before you laughed through the heavy tension as he let out a small ‘Fuck, forgot you actually write in pink’. But your laugh died sharply when he handed you the thin sheet of paper, your hands clutching it like it was your only thread of sanity left, eyes not leaving what he’d wrote. And he’d wrote your name.

“You’re kidding, right ?” you asked in a low whisper, eyes not straying from his messy handwriting decorating the bottom of the piece of paper, your brain almost shutting down on the spot as you read each letter, over and over again.

Luke took a deep breath in, trying to calm the pounding of the blood at his temples, his leg nervously stimming under the table. Why was it suddenly so hard to say words that used to naturally roll of his tongue like a practiced poem ? Why was it making him feel like you held his heart in your hand and could crush it with a few words ?

He let the breath out.

“Do you want to go out with me, moonbeam ?”

His heart rate picked up again —if it was even possible for a heart to beat so quickly— as he saw your expression only grow, eyes widening significantly, your lips parted without a single words going past them, looking so still he even doubt you were breathing. And he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t panicking him. Him, the one with not a single record of rejection, now fearing for his heart.

“I mean, I don’t want to force anything on you, of course, but… I need you to know, I now I’ve seemed like the most pretentious player, I’ve recently grown a little too aware of it. But I swear, I’m not like that anymore, or at least it’s not what I feel like I am anymore: I’m not here to toy with you, I’m not saying all this just to add a name to this, by the way, ridiculously long list of crossed out names.” Luke said it all in one breath, begrudgingly pointing at the list you clutched so hard it started to wrinkle at the edges, now feeling uneasy as he looked at it.

But what he found the weirdest in this instant was how he wasn’t feeling uneasy when sharing all of this, accepting his previous behavior and how it could’ve ever mislead you, trying to convince not with calculated sweet words but with honest thoughts, for once.

You finally look back at him, staring right in his brown eyes, brows furrowed like you were trying to gauge the trust you could put in his words, and the boy stopped you before you could speak up.

“No, please just- let me finish, I’ll be quick. I promise you, that guy you like? I can be better than him, better for you and better to you than he’d ever be, judging by how you des-”

“What guy ?” you asked, your brows only furrowing further in confusion.

Luke stopped in his tracks, seemingly taken aback by your question, while you looked at him expectantly, head tilted to the side. “Well, the guy you talked about with um…” he started hesitantly, not fond of admitting he had indeed been eavesdropping on you, “…Silena, Clarisse and Annabeth. The..tall jerk?”

“YOU SPIED ON M-” You cut yourself off, closing your eyes and breathing deeply, before shaking your head dismissively, as Luke looked down at his lap, a little guilty. “You know what, we’ll talk about that later. Luke ?” His head shot up to meet your gaze as he heard his name roll off your tongue, humming in response. “You’re the guy.”

Luke’s pupils blew wide at your deadpan, brows raised up and head brought forward like he couldn’t believe his ears. He stayed like that for a lingering second, processing every recollection he had of his eavesdropping to make sense of it all. He mouthed a ‘what’, before apparently snapping out of it. “I’m the tall jerk ?”

“You’re the tall jerk.” You tried to keep your voice steady, the realization of your own confession slowly seeping in your mind.

Chris was right, that little-

“So you like me ? There’s no other guy ?” he pressed, leaning over the table, all apprehension disappearing from his eyes to make room for the blooming sparks of hope, smile stretching over his lips he didn’t even bother to conceal.

Your could now clearly feel your cheeks burning up, the red hue probably visible over your complexion, eyes darting everywhere but the curly haired boy in front of you as you felt at loss for words. “There’s no- I mean, it’s.. I-”

You couldn’t help your eyes from trailing to his lips as you caught a movement, the tip of his tongue barely darting out and leaving his lips parted in a smile, looking so…

You had to break away as Luke swiftly moved off the table, unable to stop himself from smiling profusely after he’d caught your evident gaze, walking around to sit on the edge, right next to you.

He crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at you, before finally speaking up.

“Ok, scratch what I said earlier, that guy you talked about seems absolutely amazing. Real boyfriend material. I could never even dream of being like him. You clearly should date him, I get it.” Your eyes rolled as you slowly understood his little speech, blush still dusting your cheeks as your smile started to match his, lightly biting your lip to hold it. “But oh, wait, what did you say? Is it me?” he asked, feigning innocence and pointing at himself. “I’m the guy? Wow, incredible, so convenient.”

But you could only smile further at his antics, feeling any fear, anticipation, hidden pent up frustration, slowly leaving your body as the boy’s own joy radiated off his, contagious energy that seeped into you.

“So, would you consider going out with a tall jerk ?”

You couldn’t hold a little chuckle. “You’re a dork.”

“Yeah well, would you consider going out with a dorky tall jerk, then ?”

“I don’t just consider, Luke,” you started, a glint of playfulness in your eyes as they bore in his, “I want to.”

You stood up at the same time as one of your hands shot up to grab the collar of his orange shirt, bringing him low enough to press your lips to his in a kiss, surprising, confusing, but oh so cathartic. And for the short moment it lasted, Luke’s hands opening and closing just short of touching you as he didn’t even know what to do anymore, to the both of you it felt like perfection.

But the passion simmered down as you pulled away. “You swear you’re not gonna play me?” you mumbled, both hands gripping the front of his shirt as the bliss started to wear off and you realized how stupid you had to be to fully believe him, given the history.

“I-” Luke let out a deep sigh, hand finally moving to push a stray strand of hair out of your face, and you shivered at the contact of his warm fingers. “I’m gonna do everything I can think off to prove t to you. I’m on a maturing path, if that’s actually an expression.” And his smile grew back as he heard you stifle a laugh, finally looking up at him.

“Can I ask you something then ?”

“Anything.” And boy did he mean it. He probably was even ready to loose a sparring match against you if it would make you beam like you did just moments before.

“Why were you talking to all my siblings ? Everytime I saw you, you just… ran away.”

The boy let out an awkward laugh, scratching his nape as he looked away from your eyes. “Well I… I was asking around if they knew who you might be interested in… Didn’t exactly want you to find out.”

You looked at him in disbelief, happily surprised that he’d actually been through almost the same thing as you. “Wow, dedication, I could never. I only asked Annabeth-”

“Annabeth knew ? And she didn’t tell me ? I feel sooo betrayed!” Luke exclaimed with a laugh, head falling back with his eyes closed as he went through everything that could’ve been simpler had she told him from the start.

“Wait, she knew about you ?” Your face displayed a matching shock now. “And you feel betrayed ? Wow, she looked at me right in the eyes and told me she barely knew your type, hence the list.”

“She really is the evil genius she thinks she is, huh ?” he asked rhetorically, his arms finding your hips and pulling you closer to him.

“Myeah, gonna have a talk with you now, little girl…” you replied, resting your head comfortably against his shoulder, the feeling almost too natural to feel new, and you could only smile absentmindedly as your own arms hugged him back.

Did i feel fully comfortable writing boys down-talking a girl for that two sentence apparition? No. But for the sake of the storyyyy :D

Future partner if you have to nickname me, let it be moonbeam. Please. And if you could cosplay nightwing on a weekly basis it’s an added bonus but hey, I won’t ask too much <3

Hope you enjoyed this heheh

Love, Nana -

#luke castellan imagine #imagine #luke castellan x reader #pjo series #luke castellan x you #oneshot #charlie bushnell #fanfiction #lukecastellan #nana's mind ━☆#pjo luke castellan #pjo angst #luke castellan angst

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kruegerspillow · 1 month ago

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serendipity ; simon ghost riley

creators note: i love this man he deserves all the kisses in the world mwamwamwa my hyperfixation is stuck on him aaarghhh this is just little scenario i had in my own mind LMAO

warnings: swearing, this is after johnny had died guys sorry :(, might be ooc! Simon, NOT PROOFREAD

pt 2 here!

The battlefield shouldn't be a place where you could joke around, no, not at all. It is a result of greed— it is the effect that has been left by politics. It captures the eyes of many, yet, it doesn't stop. No matter how many times you plead, no matter how hard you beg, it won't stop. War isn't God, it won't forgive you for what you've done.

The screaming of children will echo through the hollowness of your mind. It will follow you around like a shadow. It will be implanted in your soul like a curse left by Adam. Their body parts are scattered and no longer recognizable. The city that was once your shelter had faded into nothing but debris. War is a consequence of our sins.

The wind howled loudly as you made your way through the isolated village. The field was now left with silence apart from the heavy breathing of your teammates through the radio. Your hand gripped the rifle as you furrowed your brows, watching through the bush to see if there were any movements left in the area. For once, the atmosphere in war was strangely... quiet. Clear. You thought to yourself before clicking on the button of the radio.

"Area's clear. I will be exfiltrating, cap'n." You whispered into the radio, hearing static noises from the other line before a gruff 'affirm' was returned.

Your heartbeat quickened with adrenaline as you walked through the bushes, searching for more enemies before making your way to the extraction point. Suddenly, the rustling of a bush could be heard— that was definitely not you. Your head perked up at the sudden noise, feeling your body tense before turning to the source of the sound. A sharp bang can be heard from behind you and the sound was not even a few yards away. You felt a gloved hand abruptly covering your mouth, the material of the gloves felt familiar—

"Quiet." Your lieutenant's voice came out as a whisper, having just killed a hostile enemy from their team. "More of 'em are 'ere, don't make a single noise ya bloody sod."

"I've gotten rid of them, haven't I—"

"Bloody reinforcements."

There were a few minutes of silence, apart from your heavy breathing. Your back pressed against his chest while his hand covered your mouth. Helicopters hovered over the both of you, flying towards the secure area before making its landing. Simon let go of your mouth before standing up, glancing at you from the holes of his mask as he waited for you to stand. You quickly stood back up before the two of you made your way towards the helicopter, seeing your other teammates jogging to the helicopter before getting in. Captain Price pulled you up while Simon went to sit in one of the seats. Captain Price tugged you to a safer corner of the helicopter, making sure no one fell out.

"Fuckin' aced it, team." Captain Price spoke up, his voice hinted with pride. "Bloody nice."

“Paperworks won't be bloody nice, eh?”

"Christ, ya already thinkin' of the responsibilities, Gaz?"

You swore you could feel Simon's gaze burning a hole through your body as you stood in the corner, watching the banter between Gaz and the Captain. The helicopter ascended before flying back to the base. You could feel the tension between the both of you, surrounding you with an almost overwhelming intensity. Why's he starin' at me like that? You thought to yourself, though you quickly dismissed the thought as you looked out the window. Suddenly, you felt a small nudge on your elbow.

"Muppet, won't ya talk to that lonely bloke there?" Gaz whispered, making sure it's inaudible for Simon to hear before he motioned towards your lieutenant. Gaz had a small, playful grin on his lips.

"Who are you callin' a muppet, huh?"

"Hey, don't ignore what I've jus' said. Last time I've seen lieutenant all cheery was when Soap was still with us, aye?"

"... What're you tryin' to do, Gaz?"

"Jesus, jus' give 'im some company, alrigh'? You both are alike. Remember, great minds think alike."

You scoffed at his words, shaking your head in disbelief as he let out a small laugh. You crossed your arms in an almost defensive way, making your decision before you strode towards your lieutenant. The words in your throat died down when you got closer to him, sitting down beside him before leaning back on the seat. His gaze followed your weary form, and not a single word left his mouth. Finally, you gathered the courage to look up at him.

"Well, 'ello lieutenant." You greeted him.

"You don't need'a talk to me, y'know tha'?"

"Well, yes, but—"

"I 'eard what Gaz said to ya. 'M not one for idle talk, anyway."

You let out a small huff, taking in his words before resting your hands in your lap. The silence took over the conversation, creating an almost awkward atmosphere between the both of you. Simon's gaze lingered on you, as if reading you like an open book. He blinked a few times, waiting for your next move.

"Well, he isn't very good at whisperin', isn't he..."

A small scoff left his lips, "What do ya think?"

'It's not like you're any better, aye, lieutenant? Nearly got the both of us killed when you tried talkin' to me in the bushes."

The words left your mouth almost instantly, nearly making you regret your abrupt comment on him. Just as you were about to apologize, the helicopter landed. Simon stood up from his seat, glancing down at you once more before waiting for the rest of the team to jump out of the helicopter. You went along with him, feeling almost nervous after talking to your superior like that. Though, you could see the small crinkle in the corner of his eyes— a small sign that he was smiling underneath his mask, even if it was just a little. His smile was quickly washed away by his stoic facade as he turned his head to you. Did the stone-cold lieutenant let down his walls around you?

"...I don't bite, don't worry." The words left his mouth as he made his way through the base, before leaving you to walk to his quarters.

Fuck, what have you gotten yourself into now?

#cod x reader #call of duty #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod fanfic #simon riley imagine #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #Simon riley x reader #Hello hes my little meowmeow #Kruegerspillow

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kazperthegh0st · 4 months ago

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Leo realized too late that Nico di Angelo was extremely attractive.

Leo didn’t think of his friends as attractive.

Piper: angular features and gorgeous eyes and nice tits. But she was also Piper; the one who cried in his arms when she told him about her dad, the one who did his hair and nails, the one who could beat his ass. But he wasn’t attracted to her.

Jason: tall and strong and intense with a good chest. But he was also Jason; the one who saved him at the Grand Canyon, the one who never found Leo annoying, the one who died for the Prophecy so Leo could live.

And down the list of his friends. Were they gorgeous. Yes. Were they sexy. Yes. But they were his friends.

But Nico.

Nico gods.

Nico had never been the kind of guy that every camper wanted to ask out. That was always Jason or Percy. And more importantly, the campers refused to ask Nico out directly.

They had deemed Leo as the approachable one. And that was how Leo realized his best friend was so incredibly attractive.

Random campers approached him to ask him if Nico was single or straight or gay or if he’d be interested in them.

Several instances of this later, and Leo had comprised a list of responses to these questions:

“Is he single?”

“No sorry, he accidentally entered a marriage contract with the devil during a spooky ritual.”

“Is he gay?”

“Yeah sure! In the way that Viktor Frankenstein is gay: Nico is building himself a six foot tall boyfriend out of dead bodies.”

“Does he like girls?”

“Oh yeah totally. Loves ‘em. Especially virgins. He could probably use another sacrifice if youre interested in being carved open with a styngian iron sword.”

“Would he be interested in me?”

“No sorry, he prefers his lovers in the later stages of rigor mortus. If you get what im saying.”

And maybe Leo had taken it to far. Maybe he had made Nico seem too creepy. But so what. They didn’t have the balls to say anything to his face in the first place. Besides. Half the camp already thought Nico was weird and creepy; if they believed the stuff Leo had said, then they were assholes who didn’t deserve Nico in the first place.

The next time it happened. Leo snapped.

“Do you think he’d let me take him out on a date?”

“Hell fucking no! He wouldn’t let any of you assholes within twenty feet of him if he knew about this! He wouldn’t want anything to do with a shy asshole who is to scared of him to ask him out to his fucking face like he fucking deserves!”

The girl tried to stammer out a response but Leo was already marching in the direction of Cabin 13.

And then he was pounding on the big black door with his fists and all the strength he had in him.

The door opened a crack. Just enough that leo could observe an eye staring back at him through the darkness. Nico opened the door and stared at him.

“Are you okay? Is something wrong? Are you hurt?” Nico was asking him so many questions and ushering him quietly into the cabin and encouraging Leo to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Nico was crouching on the ground in front of him and all Leo could think about was how pretty his face was.

Nico, who had matured into such an attractive and kind individual. Nico with gorgeous hair that framed his face. With delicate eyeliner. With pretty lips and soft cheeks that Leo wanted to press gentle kisses to.

Nico put the back of his hand against Leo’s forehead.

“You’re so hot,” Nico said.

Leo laughed.

“Not like that.” Nico sighed. “You’re burning up. Worse than a fever. Is something wrong?”

Leo nodded numbly.

“So it’s just a stress thing? Youre not burning up cause you’re sick?”

Nico sat on the bed next to him and pulled him into a hug. “Talk to me.”

“You’re a really good friend, Nico.”

“Thanks but,” Nico paused, “this isn’t about me Leo, it’s about you.”

“No.” Leo said. “It is about you.”

“It is?” Leo felt Nico start to pull away.

“No wait. Its not you. Its not I promise I just.”

“Its what?” Nico asked, cautiously.

“Half of the camp is in love with you.”

“Leo?” Nico asked. “Are you ok? When’s the last time you got some sleep?”

“No, no, listen, Im not crazy!” Leo stood and paced back and forth as he spoke. “Im not crazy. Every day for the past week there’s been at least five campers that have come up to me to ask about you. People who dont even know you!”

Lep paused to catch his breath. Then he pitched his voice and imitated the questions he’d been asked. “Is he gay? Is he interesten in me? Would he want to ho out with me? What does his ideal girl look like? What would a good date idea be? Is he single? Is he taken? Is he this is he that!”

“I’m just so sick of it. They don’t even know you and they’re to scared of you to ask you in the first place.” Leo tossed his head back and laughed. “So they come to me to ask! Because I’m your best friend. They harass me because they’re too scared to talk to you.”

“Im sorry-“ nico started.

“Don’t apologize! Its not you’re fault that they’re assholes. Its just. They dont even know you. They have this idea of who you are but its not you. Its not even close. They have no clue how kind or funny you are. They only want you because Alternative cultures are being seen as cool again.”

“They shouldn’t be bothering you.”

“They don’t know you like I know you. They don’t care about you like I do.”

“Leo, I-“

“And I’m running out of excuses— running out of things to tell them so they’ll leave me alone. I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know what to tell them.”

“Tell them,” Nico started, his voice quiet. “Tell them that I’m yours.”

Leo stared at him.

“What?”

“Tell them I’m yours.”

“What-“

“But only if you want me to be— want me to be yours that is.”

“I- You- Are you asking me out?”

“Yeah.”

“Like for real? You want me to be your boyfriend?”

Nico nodded. He stared down at his shoes.

Leo approached him. And tilted Nico’s face up, forcing the son of Hades to look him in the eyes.

Nico’s whole face was red.

“Fuck yeah.”

#leo valdez #nico di angelo #valdangelo #pjo hoo toa #pjo #pjo nico #pjo leo

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angelic-muse · 1 year ago

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unforgettable

a/n: i couldn't not write anything for his special day, so enjoy, and happiest of birthdays to my silly mosshead man. this was written with both anime and opla zoro in mind so feel free to interpret it as either.

pairing: roronoa zoro x gn!reader

warnings: just fluff, not proofread

summary: it's your lover's birthday, and what better way to start the celebration than to stay awake and surprise him at midnight?

...that is, if you can stay awake.

must stay awake... must stay awake.

the sentence replayed itself in your groggy head like a mantra, a broken record stuck on repeat, a toy train running in slow circles around your brain as you fought the urge to tip over the line between wakefulness and sleep.

zoro deserved more than that.

"my birthday? never really done anything for it," he'd grunted the day before after you'd brought it up. the swordsman had frowned, scratched his head. "kinda forgot it was tomorrow, actually."

and it was then that you decided to make this birthday — and all his next ones, for that matter — unforgettable.

so after some pleading with nami that then lead to careful rearrangement of night watch schedules (despite the crew's grumbling), zoro would be set to finish his shift at midnight — exactly midnight.

and what would he find when he returned to his room? you, of course, waiting for the moment he stepped through the door to shower him in love and birthday wishes, followed by a day of celebrations just for him.

well, that was your plan.

but the actual staying awake hadn't been part of it.

since your shift for night watch was the last one, just before sunrise, you were lucky enough to be able to sleep soundly all night till then. which meant you were not at all used to being awake at this time and your body was slowly but surely losing the fight to fall unconscious.

you yawned, blinking heavy eyelids as you turned to squint at the sky, the gentle moonlight washing the deck of the going merry in its milky glow. it wasn't quite yet at its highest point — still not midnight.

surely a little lay down before zoro returned couldn't hurt, right?

don't fall asleep, you promised yourself one last time as you settled into his own hammock, breathing in the lingering scent of him with a sigh. don't fall asleep...

zoro muttered angrily as he stomped across the ship back to his room, not bothering to soften the loud thumping of his boots against the planks, swords clanking noisily at his hip.

"serves 'em right if they wake up," he groused, "putting me up there at this time all of a sudden for no fuckin' reason—"

he cut short as he shoved into his room, raising a brow at the sight that met him as he rid himself of swords and shirt. there you were, curled up in his spot, sleeping soundly like a contented cat.

"the hell you doing in my hammock?" he grumbled under his breath, but zoro slid in beside you anyways, throwing an arm over your shoulders and folding the other behind his head. he didn't mind that you were here — he never did. sleeping beside you was nothing out of the ordinary anymore. he liked it, enjoyed the easy comfort and security that came with you tucked against his side; hearts beating in time, every breath shared.

it was right when zoro was beginning to drift off that he felt you stir awake. cracking open one eye, he watched as you sat up, blinking tiredly. "zo... zoro?"

"what got you up?" he murmured as you yawned and stretched your arms overheard. "m'here, get back to sleep." get back to cuddling me.

"the smell of a pirate who hasn't showered in a week," you joked groggily, rubbing at your eyes. then you froze. shit.

shit!

"no, i fell asleep!" you groaned, burying your face in your hands. how could you? you promised yourself you wouldn't, for him, and now... "fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck... i'm sorry." you peeked back up at him, lower lip stuck out.

zoro frowned. "hah? what the hell are you on about?"

"i was meant to stay up," you said sadly. "to say happy birthday to you. at midnight. that's why i got nami to change your watch..."

rubbing a hand across his face, zoro sat up to look at you properly, blinking sleep away. you went to the trouble of getting his night watch changed and stayed up in his room just to say happy birthday to him? seriously?

he'd be surprised, but really, that was just the kind of stupid, endearing thing you'd do.

and so he laughed.

you blinked at him as his wide shoulders shook with mirth, head tossed back. an embarrassed warmth crept up your neck and you folded your arms, attempting to glare at him even as you fought to hold down a smile. "wh— it's not funny!"

"nah," he grinned at you as his laughter died down. "it's just cute. c'mere."

you yelped in half-protest as zoro grabbed your head to pull into his chest, laying back down with a sigh.

"you don't hafta... stay up until midnight or do shit like that just for me." he uttered after a moment of quiet, brushing his fingers through your hair. "you need your sleep, and i need mine. so just... just wait until morning next year, yeah?"

"i... okay," you sighed, trailing a finger across his chest, drawing mindless patterns over scarred, tawny skin, making him suppress a shiver. "i still have stuff planned for later, though."

"yeah? let's hear it."

"i'm not ruining the surprise, silly. but... i did get you some presents and convinced sanji to bake you a cake. among other things."

zoro snorted. "bet that shitty cook did it for you more than me."

"probably," you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. "don't get jealous that he might love me more than you, it's okay."

the swordsman scoffed, turning you both on your sides with a grunt. "maybe, but he'll never love you as much as i do."

you chuckled, tucking your head into the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent; steel and sweat with an earthier undertone somewhere beneath. "i love you too, even though you still smell like you've never showered."

zoro barked out a laugh, tightening a thick arm around your waist to pull you further into him. "i'll take a shower for your birthday, how's that sound?"

you peered up at him and wrinkled your nose. he grinned.

"you're gross," you muttered with a smile even as you snuggled further into him. he kissed your forehead and you could feel his own smile against your skin.

"and you still love me."

"lucky you, huh?"

zoro exhaled softly, closing his eyes. "yeah, lucky me."

slowly, quiet draped itself over the two of you like the softest blanket, comforting and warm as the sounds of your breathing lulled each other to sleep after gentle whispers of goodnight and wishes of good dreams. and he rocked you in his arms, like how the gentle waves rocked you from below, mother nature's cradle for her sleeping children as they rested in an embrace so tightly woven with nothing but pure love not even the sharpest sword could ever hope to sever it.

and that morning, when zoro awoke to his dear lover smothering his face with kisses as they pulled him from his sleep with the promise of birthday gifts, he knew with clarity, such a deep, resounding clarity it made his heart ache—

that you, on this day and every other, were the greatest gift he could ever ask for.

nia's ask box is open!

#♡ — nia writes #zoro ♡#this is terribly unorganised and silly #and for that i apologise lmao #its currently 1am and i needed to get something out for the birthday boy #so please enjoy this incoherent jumble of words #roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #zoro x reader #opla zoro #opla zoro x reader #zoro #zoro x you #zoro x reader fluff #opla zoro x reader fluff #opla roronoa zoro #one piece #one piece x reader #opla x reader

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madaboutmunson · 9 days ago

Text

Fluff

For @strangerthingswritersguild prompt : ‘Fluff’

Word count: 3824

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Eddie parked up and took a few grounding breaths before leaving his vehicle.

He knew he, Steve, was gonna be here today, and today he was gonna ask him out. It had been ten years and times had changed a little, and he now knew Steve wasn’t the kind of guy to knock him out if he found out he was gay. After Robin revealing her coming out to Steve story.

And, he’d totally wait until one of them was leaving so it didn’t have to be awkward.

But this was Eddie, and never mind the path of true love, none of his paths ran smooth and if it looked like it was, he’d better watch out for the sudden long drop to sink hole he was about to plummet into.

So when Eddie checked himself over in the mirror one last time, and was giving himself a pretty intense pep talk in it, he didn’t catch the dark green Jeep Cherokee pull up next to him.

He also didn’t see 1996 Steve Harrington hurry in to the building arms laden with things.

Eddie grabbed the card with wad of cash in it, for the new happy couple. He’d been doing pretty well for himself lately, and Dustin and Suzie were only just reemerging into the world after being in the academic world for so long. He wasn’t even sure if they had any intention of leaving it.

He hopped down out of the van and smoothed over his suit which he had to compromise on, suit he could do, but tie and buttoned up the collar? Absolutely not!

But as he slammed the door shut and locked up, he heard a way too close.

“What’s up, nerd?” Followed by a sweet laugh Eddie would know anywhere, and he knew full well that laugh continued because Eddie had jumped out of his skin.

“Steve!” Eddie can’t help the way his face lit up at the sure and happy smile directed his way, “Good to see ya man,” he beamed and stuck out his hand.

Steve looked down at the ringed hand between them, pulled a face as he scoffed a laugh, grabbed Eddie’s hand and pulled him in for a hug.

“Good to see you again, man. Sorry I hadn’t been in touch more,” He said squeezing Eddie tight and releasing him to step back and look him over, “Wow, you haven’t aged a day. Oddly strange to see your forehead,” Steve chuckled.

Eddie touched his forehead at the mention of it, “Couldn’t keep the bangs if not even Hetfield and Dickenson could keep ‘em,” he mumbled with an irrepressible smirk, “Glad to see a decade hasn’t flattened yours,” Eddie looked up at Steve’s much shorter at the back, but still elegantly swooped over hair.

“Yeah, at least I held onto all the good things from back then,” Steve smiled, “Well most of them. Where’s your date?”

“Ah, yeah, no date for me, for the wedding I mean, I can get dates, lots of them in fact when I’m not all caught up with work,” Eddie cringes internally, and tries to make a save, “Yours?”

“Inside,” Steve chuckled, and Eddie’s heart shattered.

“Cute is she?” Eddie tried to pull a distraction with conversation, whilst his inner minions swept to the shards in his chest cavity.

“The cutest!” Steve beamed, his smile was wide and bright, making his eyes narrow and sparkle. Eddie didn’t think he’d ever seen someone more happy. Maybe his uncle when Steve arranged a secret Eddie trade, after all the upside down business, to get him out of Hawkins and its pitchfork wielding residents.

Eddie nodded as they entered the main building, “I’m happy for you, man,” he said sincerely, because though he wished it was him, Steve really did deserve a happy ending.

“Hey I’m just gonna hit the bathroom before I get into the festivities,” Eddie juts a thumb at the sign in the wall, figuring he can use it as an excuse to reset and start the night over with a different ambition, “I’ll catch you inside, man. You can introduce me to your girl,” he said fondly.

“Yeah! We’d love that. I’ll save you a seat with us. Oh wait a second-“ Steve says back with way too much excitement. He must really like this chick, or maybe everyone else here hates her? But before Eddie can escape Steve is way too close. So close he’s inhaling his cologne, and obviously it’s exquisite.

“You had some fluff in your hair,” Steve smiled and handed Eddie the offending debris.

Eddie chuckled genuinely this time, “Ah, perks of the job free fluff with every stuff.”

Steve wrinkled his nose up adorably in confusion.

“I make toys, teddy bears, Eddies’s-“ Eddie starts to explain, but Steve’s eyes are wide with excitement and he’s pointing and talking over him.

“Eddie’s Teddies! That’s you? Oh my god! Oh my god . My baby loves those. I must have gotten her at least four from the fairytale collection. No more than that. We got some of the professionals' collections too. We’ve got the sailor, the baseball player, the stunt driver, the movie star, and the,” Steve pauses and his words slow down, “and the ice cream man.”

Steve is just staring like he wants to say something but the words won’t come out. Eddie swallows and quickly breaks the tension, “Yeah that’s me. listen I gotta go take a leak, I’ll be right with ya.”

Eddie’s hurries inside the cubicle, screws up his eyes and thumps himself against his head a few times. Idiot. Now Steve is gonna feel fucking awkward all night knowing Eddie had a decade long crush on him.

No. He could save this. Eddie could save this. He’d say it was a thank you. Yeah, a thank you for saving his life. Ok, cool. He was gonna go with that, and meet the love of Steve’s life and then get lost in the party, so he can avoid them for the rest of the evening.

With an emptied bladder, washed hands and an extra fluff check, Eddie entered the main room.

He is mobbed by a large section of the guests, leaving the other seventy percent of the room wondering who the hell he was and maybe he was famous or something. He catches up and then finally gets to congratulate the happy couple and heads to the bar to grab a soda.

He felt a tug on his bracelet.

“Gee mister, that’s pretty shiny. Where’d ya get it?”

Eddie looks down to follow the voice and is met with two huge blinking hazel eyes in a flurry of brown hair.

“I made it, when I was a kid,” he smiled.

“You made it?” the kid asked in awe, pushing the mass of brown bangs out of her eyes for a closer look.

“Sure did. Bit of chain, bit of leather, some snaps and Sabbra Cadabra a bracelet,” he smiled.

She giggled, “It abracadabra, silly!”

“Oh is it now? My mistake. I better go call up Ozzy and tell him.” Eddie played along with a sad sigh.

“Who’s Ozzy?”

“Only one of the greatest heavy metal singers of all time!” Eddie enthused and threw up the horns and made a silly face, which only further plunged the little girl further into the giggles.

“You’re silly. Like daddy, but you’ve got long hair like, uh, elif cub,” she smiled up at him.

Eddie looked around the immediate area and there did not seem to be anyone he would label as a Daddy in the vicinity.

He knelt down to her level, “Speaking of Daddy, shall we go find him?”

“Yah!” She said stretching her arms up to Eddie, which he took as a queue to pick her up, “I’ll show you him.”

And when this little girl points directly at a sweating, out of breath, clearly distressed Steve who was hurtling their way. Eddie’s heart couldn’t decide to soar for his friend being a parent or sink for himself as a kid meant this was serious.

“Honey, you can’t run off like that, ok?” Steve says softly though he was clearly very worried.

Eddie handed over Little Miss Harrington, to Steve, and he immediately relaxes with her in his arms, “Thanks Eddie, I had a bottle mishap and turned away for a few seconds and she was gone.”

He can see the way his brow creased that Steve felt like he really fucked up.

“Hey, it could happen to anyone, man. Kids are so fast, and if I’m anything to go by, very sneaky and creative,”Eddie offered him a friendly smile, and he watched as Steve’s shoulders relaxed one more setting, “How about I come over and meet your date and I can sit with the kid whilst you go get cleaned up and the bottle done, yeah?”

Steve looks confused, but walks towards a table in the corner which it’s strewn with toys, books, pacifiers, an open jar of applesauce with a spoon sticking out of it, a bag full of diapers and wipes and creams, and a spilled baby bottle.

But no one else was there.

Eddie sees the deep blush hit Steve’s face as he places his little girl in a high chair, and quickly tries to tidy up so Eddie can sit down.

But he can’t have that.

Eddie pushes Steve firmly into a seat, then cracks open and puts a soda in his hand as he begins to tidy up his own space. Making it all a show by pretending to sample the bottle and applesauce and finding them disgusting, much to the amusement of the little girl. Even reading passages from the books as if performing on stage. ‘A is for apple’ is performed with such dramatics, with Eddie propping on foot up on a chair, flailing his arms around, even Steve started to laugh.

Once he has two Harrington’s giggling he sits down with a big ‘mission accomplished’ smile. As he raised his eyes, they meet Steve’s sparkling ones, but this time maybe they’re a little for him too.

“Eddie, let me introduce you to my date for the evening. My daughter, Georgina,” Steve gestured to the little girl in the high chair currently chewing on the corner of a book.

“Hey sweetie, This is Eddie. He makes the teddy bears you like,” Steve beamed, but Georgina couldn’t be less interested, in Eddie right now, because the main lights had dimmed to make way for more colourful ones moving around the dance floor.

Eddie wants to leave it there. Accept the facts Steve is a family man now. Move on. But the way he’s looking at him, making him feel like a knight in shining armor, Eddie can’t help himself, and he has to know for sure.

“So-“

“There is no one,” Steve shouts quickly over the music and immediately shrinks back in volume, “I mean, I’m not dating anyone or married or anything. I really wanted to be a dad, and relationships just were not working out, you know,” he scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “So I got a surrogate,” he beams at Georgina, who is clapping her hands and kicking her feet to the music, but quickly casts his eyes down, “But being a parent is a lot harder than I thought.”

“Hardest job you’ll ever do, if you believe my uncle, who technically didn’t sign up for it,” Eddie smiled and Steve mirrored it, “But she’s happy and confident, you’re doing great.”

“Thanks,” Steve says quietly, and Eddie can tell he doesn’t believe him, so he opts for a change of subject.

“Who is Elif Cub?”

Steve’s eyebrows spring up, “Uh, well,”

“Hey man, you don’t gotta say, Gina, said I had long hair like them. I was just being nosy,” Eddie waves the question away, “You want me to grab you another drink or something to eat?” Eddie says standing up.

“It’s you,” Steve blurts out and in response to Eddie’s confusion, “Elif Cub. Has long hair like you because they are you. In a photo on my wall. From the hospital when we snuck people in to play d&d for a few hours.”

Eddie smiles in realisation, “Elif Cub. Hellfire Club.” He puts his hands on his hips and leans into Steve’s space with a smirk, “You have a lot of pictures of me on your walls, Steve?”

Steve’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat, “Just the one,” he confirms, and Eddie leans back, “But-but I’d like more. I mean we should hang out more.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows in surprise, and slowly sat back down. He looks between Steve and the table a few times and taps on it, before asking, “Is this a pity thing because of the bears?”

A gorgeous smile erupted across Steve’s face and he laughed, “No, but I can’t believe I didn’t realise until today. Robin’s right I am a dingus.”

Eddie’s freshly glued back together heart is pounding ferociously in his chest, “So, by, more photos and hanging out. Do you mean, like, friendly hanging out?” He asked cautiously.

“Well of course it would be friendly we’re friends aren’t we?” Steve said with a furrowed brow.

Eddie was struggling with words, which was extremely rare. He wanted to know if there could be something more but also didn’t want to make Steve feel awkward, if it was a no.

“Ok let me preface this by saying I really love the idea of being closer friends, that is a definite thumbs up from me. Big fat yes,” Eddie laughed a little nervously mostly talking to the table, “But I wanna be transparent about something.”

He raised his eyes and Steve looked like he was hanging on Eddie’s every word, until-

“Daddy? I’m hungry,” Georgina asked sweetly.

“Oh my gosh. Yes. Yes! I’ll be right on it sweetheart, just let me find the… Damn I need to heat it up. I mean darn,” Eddie watched Steve deflate opposite him, and he reached across the table and took his hand.

“Hey, that was my fault, talking your ear off, ok? I’ll entertain Gina the best I can. You sort out whatever you need to ok? You’re doing great,” Eddie smiled at him.

“It was just. I’d just got used to the bottles and jars and now she’s on, like real food, which should be way easier right?” Steve shook his head as he searched through the bag retrieving a few Tupperware boxes, “I won’t be long youre a lifesaver Eddie, thank you. There is some fruit here, honey, ok? Steve said setting the tub of chopped up fruit and vegetables on the high chair, which her little hands plunge straight into, and she starts munching away.

Eddie watches her shovel the beautifully carved fruit into her mouth. Each piece perfectly sized, cut into stars, hearts, rainbows, even some melon balls carved to have a rose like texture.

Steve hurried back from the kitchen area wafting a small meal on a plate, trying to cool it down.

“Ah those Dino chicken nuggets never go out of style,” he smiled at Steve, who gave he a sweet sigh of defeat.

“I honestly tried to avoid them but she really likes them,” Steve shrugged.

“Steve, I see what you’re doing, and you're wearing yourself out doing it,” Eddie says gently. He wants Steve to know he’s not judging him, but he does care about how stressed he seems.

Steve turned his eyes up to his, “Is it that obvious?” He said a little defeated.

“Listen, all these cute things you do for her are great and they are special but make sure you’re in a space to enjoy them too, you know? That beautiful melon ball got chomped on just like the carrot stick in her fist.” Eddie pointed out, “And yeah sometimes I guess you gotta make food fun for kids to get into it, but it doesn’t have to Michelin star carvings every meal.”

Steve scoffs, “Come on it’s hardly-“

“You know what I’m getting at, Steve, and I think I know why,” Eddie said gently reaching over the table, “Your making two childhoods here, right?”

Steve looks at him a little guilty, but Eddie only smiles in response, “Nothing wrong with wanting to give your kid all the things you wanted as a kid, but not at detriment to your stress levels. Kids are emotion sponges. You get anxious, they might get anxious. So try to relax. You’re doing a great job, Steve. Maybe you don’t hear that enough.” Eddie turns his hand reaching across the table palm up.

He watches Steve carefully. Watches him stare at his hand the breath catch in his chest and suddenly how his hand tentatively reaches out and takes his.

He looks up at him, and Eddie knows he’s searching for what it all means, but Eddie just holds his hand, soothingly rubs his thumb on the back of it.

“It’s why I make the bears.” He smiled over at him, and looked out at the dance floor as he continued to talk leaning over the table so Steve could hear him, whilst Gina dunked her Dino’s in their ketchupy demise.

“I had a teddy bear when I was a kid. I took that thing everywhere. It used to make my mom laugh. She called me her Eddie-bear. When I lost her. All I had left was my bear. I couldn’t hug her anymore, so it was all I had,” he swallowed thickly, “You can imagine it got a little grubby and torn, but my Dad didn’t fix him up or wash him. He picked him up and threw him in the trash one day when I was at school. I cried my eyes out. Couldn’t find the thing. He got me a plastic truck to say sorry. Which wasn’t the same, but if you knew my Dad, you’d know that was him trying his best.” Eddie laughed and shook his head as he turned back to Steve, “So that’s why I make the bears, and every bear we make, I keep the instructions to make it. So if my business ever failed, or when I’m not around anymore. No one has to be without their bear. They can get an exact replacement. So I guess we’re both trying to heal our childhoods in different ways.”

Steve nodded, “And the outfits?” He said with a light smirk and a slight sparkle to his eyes.

“Hmmm, let’s just say when I got a little older, I found a different Teddy Bear I wanted for myself, but I wasn’t exactly sure if he would want me back,” Eddie shifted his glance between Steve’s eyes and the table, “And it’s absolutely fine if he doesn’t because-“

“The thing you should know about that Teddy Bear is, they don’t make them like him anymore. He’s a little fragile, and frazzled. A lot of wear and tear. Especially here,” Steve gestured to the centre of his chest, and looked at Eddie with a nervousness he had never seen before.

“So if you want him he’s yours, on the understanding that, he’s a pretty busy bear, and he’s looking for someone to care for, long term. He can’t have any more casual owners, especially not one like you.”

The air got heavy between them. Eddie hadn’t counted on making big promises so fast. He hadn’t counted on Steve singling Eddie specifically out as someone special. What if he screwed up or it turned out they didn’t like one another as much as he thought they might?

It was almost like Steve could sort of read his mind, “But if you’re not looking to keep him for a long time, maybe if he’s still alone in a few years, and gets fixed up a little. Maybe he could handle a play date?” Steve’s eyes had not moved from Eddie’s.

“No. He’s perfect right now. He always has been. I guess I’m just worried because he’s so rare and valuable to so many. To me. What if I accidently damaged him, or wasn’t the good owner I thought I’d be?”

Steve’s face relaxed at Eddie’s concern, “it’s not about predicting the future. It’s about intention.” Steve smiled, and released his hand.

Eddie sipped his drink and mulled it over. Half sort of impressed with the grace Steve is giving him to think about it. If it were the other way around he’d be gnawing on the table between them, in anticipation. Instead Steve cleaned up Gina and her plate.

Then as he looked around the room and his eyes fell back to Steve the answer was so clear, he couldn't believe he took a few minutes to think about it.

He got up out of his seat and walked towards the bar.

Eddie saw Steve’s face and shoulders drop for a second as he walked away, but his smile at his daughter didn’t falter.

As he pushed through the crowd he found Robin, “Hey, how well do you know Steve’s little girl?” He asked, unsure of the situation.

“Uh pretty well, you could say. I designed her last Halloween outfit. I had a ticket to her nativity. Basically co-parented when I watched Steve put a spoon of salt in his coffee and then drink it!” She responded with such affronted sarcasm that Eddie knew he had asked the correct person.

“I wanna ask Steve to dance. Would you watch her for him?” Eddie asked hopefully.

Robin’s eyes went wide, “Finally!” She added with a wide smile and yanked Eddie back towards Steve's table and basically shoved him into him.

“Uh, Steve, do you maybe wanna dance?” Eddie extended his hand out towards his dream guy.

Steve looked at Eddie’s hand and then at Robin snuggling Georgina tightly to her as she shooed him away with her hand like she was annoyed they were still there.

Steve nodded and took his hand.

It wasn’t exactly the slow dance Eddie was hoping for but it was close enough for him to hold Steve like it was.

“I’d really like to give it a shot if you haven’t changed your mind. I mean I’m not perfect, there will be challenges, but I promise,” he said holding their joined hands to his chest, “I will work hard at every single one to keep you safe, happy and in my arms.”

Steve smiled softly, “I haven’t changed my mind,” he said gazing at Eddie.

“I hope you realise this is going to cost me a small fortune now though?” Eddie teased lightly as Steve’s chest pressed against his own.

“What do you mean?” Steve laughed a little confused.

“Well now I’m going to have to make a new bear to look after the original model.” Eddie grinned as Steve rolled his eyes and they swayed to the music.

#Steddie #steddie drabble #steddie microfic #stwgdailyprompt #singledad!SteveHarrington #eddie munson #Steve Harrington

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