#thankfully that's not me i just do a few a year bc i like it but yeah there's just too much demand and not enough supply

[angeltism]

thinking abt how i'd be perceived by theoretical fans if i were to become a vtuber is like a much more serious version of those "if uu were a fandom character" polls and weirdly intimidating

[popsicle-stick]

Idk if it helps but with popular cons if you’ve been a few years in a row (and you’re not super high profile like say destinyblue) usually they reject you to allow other people in. It’s just to give new artists a chance and also keep it fresh for people who attend each year, though it can still hurt

yeah true! i believe this happened last year with a lot of people with MCM - a lot of people who got in solidly for years were suddenly getting rejected and i believe that's why tbh

[dumb-fictionkin-sideblog]

Saw a post going around that said "use this picrew to make you now + you as a kid" and I thought it was fun :)

[witchywcmans]

PLEASE, EAT. | LAIOS TOUDEN

synopsis ━━ after you've been bitten by a sea serpent, you know the consequences are either death or the possibility of turning into one yourself. thankfully for you, laios touden is the devourer of all things monster and he is dedicated to getting that venom out of you. (laios x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ sex pollen-adjacent, cunnilingus + fingering, praise, breath play (kinda, if you squint), semi-public sex, multiple orgasms. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 3k

song inspiration ━━ too sweet, hozier / more than friends, isabel larosa

author's note ━━ this is the first time I've ever written and posted an x reader one-shot on here, so please be gentle with me lol. I usually only write x oc fics bc I'm a yapper and I love creating characters. but alas...I was perusing the laios x reader tag and wanted to read something with this plot, couldn't find it, so I figured I'd just do it myself 🫡

🪽 part i: PLEASE, EAT. / part ii: FORBIDDEN FRUIT. / part iii: TOO SWEET.

This was definitely one of the worst situations you’d been in.

You had joined Laios’ adventuring party just a few months prior. They had found you on floor 3 of the dungeon, shivering and mourning the loss of your father. His body, dead in your arms, and beside him lay the lifeless body of a ghoul you had killed. At first, the party’s leader, Laios Touden, had only been interested in taking the ghoul's body so they could use its bones for utensils after the flesh rotted off. But it was Marcille who noticed the tears in your eyes, how you trembled from the cold, and suggested they take you in. You almost declined, not wanting to leave your father’s body, but knowing he’d soon turned into a monster left you with only one option. Your father had been with you for the past twenty-five years of your life, and now, you were leaving his dead body in a dungeon to travel with a group of strangers.

You soon came to appreciate your new party, though, and you felt your father’s spirit within each of them. Marcille had his kindness, Chilchuck had a comparable wit, Senshi was gifted with excellent cooking skills, and Laios … well, you were still figuring that out. And surprisingly, it was Laios who you began to connect with the most. His knowledge of monsters was unmatched, and he had a passion for learning how to prepare them while they traveled deeper into the dungeon. He was overtly blunt, much like you, and possessed similar advanced fighting skills due to both your fathers' teachings.

Sometimes … sometimes though, you found yourself staring at him more than you should have. His face was abnormally perfect, as if he’d been carved by an artist. His tousled ash-blonde hair reminded you of a lion, and his eyes … sometimes you could’ve sworn they were made out of gold, shimmering like molten lava. Each time you thought this way, you smacked yourself when no one else was looking. I mean, Laios was your friend, your party leader. Having a crush, especially in circumstances like these, was unethical. You had always been focused on one thing: helping your party and making it out of this dungeon alive, for your father. You wouldn’t let a little crush deter you.

Everything had been all well and good until today, when you and your party reached the end of floor 4. When Laios had struggled to fight off a sea serpent, you joined him in the lukewarm water, using your crossbow to shoot the creature in the head. Finally, Laios was able to step in to slice the serpent’s head off … but not before the creature could snap its jaw, tearing one fang down your hip. You jumped back, screaming as you felt the venom seep into you instantly. Some said sea serpent venom would kill you immediately, others said it turned you into one of them, cursing you to haunt the waters with them as penance. As soon as the head was cut, Laios carried you away from the water, and the last thing you heard was Marcille cursing him out before you were rendered unconscious. 

You were woken up – hours, maybe days later – by a drop of water hitting your face every few seconds. Lifting your head from the makeshift tunic pillow, you took in your surroundings. You were at the entrance of floor 5, in a damp corner of cobblestone, while water dripped down onto the floor every so often. There was a moist bandage covering your side where the serpent’s fang had cut into you, part of your tunic ripped to shreds. Hunger boiled in your stomach, making you groan and rub your head. Laios was sitting just a few feet away, a small fire in front of him to keep warm. Marcille had to have helped him with that; there was no way to craft a fire in an area this damp.

“Am I dead?” You asked softly. 

Laios immediately turned in your direction, his mouth lifting in a smile. “Of course not.”

Your stomach did flip flops as you took in his smile, hunger consuming you. You needed something to eat – bad. Your body felt hot and sweaty, and you wondered if it was just from the humidity, even though Laios didn’t look affected. Sitting up, you informed him, “Well, that was one of two options my father said would happen from a sea serpent bite. Which means …” You lifted the bandage up, noticing the gills that started to form on the healing wound. A turquoise hue surrounded the gills, almost like a bruise. “Oh, fuck,” you muttered.

Laios stood, looming over you while asking, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s the other option,” you replied, too hungry to cry. “The bite is –”

“– Turning you into a sea serpent,” Laios finished. “Honestly, I thought that was just a myth. But when the bite didn’t kill you …” His mouth twitched, tongue darting out to wet the corners of his lips. “We have to suck the venom out. That has to stop the mutation.”

Your head snapped up. “Huh?” 

But as soon as your eyes met his, you started to wondered if what you were experiencing was hunger after all. Perhaps … a different kind of hunger. Laios stared down at you, the sparkling gold replaced by a dark hazel. It was just you two in this little corner of the dungeon, but you suddenly felt exposed, so naked, under his gaze. Your body was hot all over, sweat sticking to uncomfortable places. And your thighs … a burning need emerged between them, soaking the thin linen of your undergarments. This had to be a symptom of the bite, but it suddenly didn’t matter anymore. Your worry had been replaced by an ache that only he could fix.

No – absolutely not. You couldn’t. You shouldn’t. You were turning into a sea serpent.

But the need between your legs still throbbed.

“It’s like when a snake bites you on the surface,” Laios said, crouching down to your eye level. His closeness made your heart rate pick up. You realized then that he had shed his armor, kneeling in front of you in just his gambeson, which clung to his muscles and wide frame. “A sea serpent is part snake. Sucking out the venom should stop the mutation. You’ll probably experience symptoms from the bite for a few more hours, but they’ll stop eventually.” 

He started to peel back the bandage, taking a look at the gills forming on your hip when you gripped his wrist. Immediately, his skin burned, making you even more hot. You ripped your hand away from him, and with sweat trickling down the side of your face, you said, “Don’t you think this is … weird? Maybe Marcille should do it.”

“Marcille and the others just went back to another part of the level to find dinner. They won’t return for an hour, at least. This can’t wait.” He inspected the turquoise gills with concern, before his eyes snapped back to yours, noticing the way your black pupils filled almost the entire iris. “Do you not trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you. It’s just …” What exactly was the reason again? Oh, yes, it was pulsating hunger dripping between your legs from the bite, and you were terrified how you’d react the second his lips wrapped around your wound. The symptoms would just get worse. But he was right – this was the only way. Fuck, this had to be the most embarrassing thing you’d ever experienced. 

“Fine,” you finally relented, lying back down on the cobblestone. You did your best to get comfortable, but the makeshift pillow hardly provided much cushion between you and the floor.  “What should I do?”

“Nothing, just lay back and let me take care of it.” Laios lifted your tunic a smidge, and just the tenor of his voice made your ache even worse. “We’re just gonna … get this out of the way. And then …” His fingers hooked on the waistband of your pants, and you immediately clutched his collar. If you touched his skin again, you were sure to moan.

Laios looked from where your hand was gripping him and back to your eyes. “Your pants need to be off so I can have better access to the mutation. It’s on your hip.” You swallowed hard, knowing he was right, and your hand started to slip off his collar. “We’re friends, right?” He asked.

You nodded weakly.

“Good,” he smiled again, and you struggled to hold back a plea for him to touch you. He pulled down your pants, tossing them to the side. For a moment, he paused, taking in your soaked underwear and running his fingers over the mutation on your hip. He licked his lips again, and then said in a rather blunt tone, “You’re so –”

“Don’t say it,” you cut in, snapping your eyes shut to prevent further embarrassment.  Though you had never minded Laois’ occasional lack of social cues, this was one of those moments you needed anything but. “Just get the venom out.”

Laios tugged your underwear down a little to see if the mutation had spread. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he informed you, lowering his head to your hip. “I’ve read that these bites can have a multitude of internal symptoms. Nightmares ... sweating … fever …” He ran his tongue over the gills, making your breath hitch instantly. “… And especially, arousal. Neat, huh?” He chuckled, and just his warm breath on the gills made you even more wet. “Don’t worry, I got you,” he assured before finally wrapping his mouth on the wound.

Your body burned even hotter than before as soon as his lips touched your skin. He sucked the venom out of you, spitting out blue globs every other second. His hands gripped your side, digging into your flesh and leaving crescent shapes from his nails. As you felt the gills start to close up, you couldn’t help but moan and arch into nothing. This felt better than any time you masturbated … any time you imagined your party leader above you … Fuck, who would’ve thought sucking sea serpent venom out of you would feel this good? Thank the gods the rest of their party was off catching dinner. You couldn’t deal with them possibly hearing this.

It surprised you when your orgasm flooded through you like a crashing wave. As Laios finished sucking out the last of the venom and the mutation closed, your arousal came to a definite peak and you let out a whine. You grabbed his arm, cumming from absolutely no stimulation.

Laios didn’t seem to mind though. In fact, he was mostly preoccupied with inspecting the area. You opened your eyes, your cheeks tinged pink, and saw the globs of venom to the left dissipate to nothing but water. You pinched the bridge of your nose, “I’m sorry, I –”

“The mutation closed. I was right!” Laios looked down at you, a big grin covering his face. “How do you feel?”

“Well, I definitely don’t feel a second set of lungs on my hip anymore.” You lifted your hand when you noticed a trickle of blue staining his lip, wiping it away with your thumb. “But I … my body is still …” The ache inside you had simmered slightly, but it was still there, lingering underneath the surface. 

This was genuinely humiliating. Maybe you should’ve just decided to turn into a sea serpent after all.

Laios grabbed your wrist before you could pull away from his face. He leaned into your palm, running his long nose down to your inner wrist. “Your skin is so warm. I can still smell how aroused you are from the serpent bite.” His eyes burned into yours, keeping your hand close to his face. “I can help. Do you need another release?”

Your cheeks got even more red when he acknowledged your orgasm. Shaking your head, you said, “I couldn’t ask you to do that. I can just –”

“I’d be honored to,” he replied, quite gruffly and persistent. His fingers tugged your underwear down with precision and ease, despite the damp fabric clinging to you. He spread your legs wide and placed them on his shoulders. Lowering himself down, he inhaled the scent of your climax and hooked his arms around your inner thighs. He smiled up at you – your pretty face red with embarrassment – all dopey-eyed and grateful. “You lot like to call me the devourer of monsters. Perhaps I should devour the last bit of monster out of you.”

He inhaled again, groaning like he typically did when he was hungry. His hot breath against your achingly wet pussy made you whimper with desperation. “You smell so good down here,” he whispered. “I’d wager you taste even better.”

You gasped as soon as he dove between your legs, licking a stripe through your folds, tasting your recent orgasm. He flicked his tongue over your clit before sucking on it with feverish excitement. Slick gathered on his tongue and he whined, needing more. So much more. You were the most delicious meal he’d ever tasted. Better than any monster, better than anything on the surface. 

“So good,” he muttered into your pussy, lapping against your clit, doing anything that would get him more of your arousal. “You taste so, so good.”

You whimpered out his name and attempted to close your legs, but he held them opened with all his strength. His arms wrapped around your thighs went tight, bruising the sensitive flesh. Your jaw went slack while your own hands scrambled for purchase, eventually landing in his cropped hair. You tugged, hips bucking against his face, making him groan even more. This allowed him to hold your hips a little higher, and his tongue finally dipped into your leaking entrance. You heard him grunt the second he plunged his tongue deeper, his nose nuzzling your clit. 

He devoured you like a starved man. He devoured you like you were a boiled scorpion, or roast basilisk, or – even better – like sweet, delicious homemade cheesecake. 

“Laios,” you whined, feeling your fever dissolve with each lap of his tongue. “Laios, it’s … fuck – it’s okay, I feel –”

“Need more,” he muttered, his voice low and laced with need. He was practically humping the stone floor as he buried his tongue as far as it could go inside you. Your hips couldn’t stop bucking forward, riding his face as you felt your orgasm building at the base of your stomach. Laios was completely transfixed. He wanted to be here, nestled between your thighs, for every meal. He’d take you away from the rest of the group before dinner, lapping away to the sounds of your pleas and whimpers, so help him gods. He’d do this every day, every night, whenever you wanted, for as long as he was alive. Fuck monsters. He could survive off the taste of you for the rest of his life.

Slipping his tongue out of your hole, he went back to sucking on your throbbing clit and feeling your legs start to tremble. You had to be close to another release, and he was desperate to taste it. He paid all his attention on your clit, snaking one hand up and sinking two fingers knuckle-deep into your entrance in tandem. “Fuck,” you moaned, tugging on his hair once again, “fuck – gods, Laios. I – I’m s-so close –”

“Please,” he begged, smearing your slick all over his mouth. “Please, you’re so good. Need to see how you taste when you release on my tongue.” His own hips continued to buck against the floor.

You choked on a cry when you finally came all over his tongue. He groaned, loud and drawn out, when he finally got a taste of your sweet climax, knowing that it was him that brought you to this point. The orgasm felt long, like the ocean bringing you in and out, and your whole body trembled. He continued lapping at your clit as it pulsed under his tongue, his fingers curling inside you through your orgasm. When you finally breathed out and started to come down from the high of it all, Laios stayed between your thighs, allowing his tongue to gently swirl your clit. Maybe if he continued, he could taste a little more of you …

You found your voice, hoarse from overstimulation. “Laios, please, you have to stop,” you begged, yanking his head up from between your legs. His mouth was covered in your slick, and then he was giving you that dopey expression again, making your heart clench. Your body was no longer hot and sweaty. Laios had completely cured you of the sea serpent bite with that expert mouth of his. He unwound his arms from your thighs, bringing his fingers that were still covered with your wetness to his mouth, tasting the last of your orgasm. You watched him, eyes wide and cheeks blushing, until he was looking at you again with those golden doe eyes.

“That was amazing,” he said, like he was in a haze. When your eyes flickered down, you realized he was hard in his pants, but it wasn’t like he even noticed himself with the way he was staring at you. “We should do that again sometime.”

He stood up, and you scrambled to pull your clothes back on before the group came back. You stammered, “It’s okay, uh – we don’t have to. Especially if you don’t want to. We could just –”

“I want to,” he cut in, a determined look in his eyes. “What are friends for, right?” 

[busket]

What… was the finding dory debacle… ?

omg ok it's a riot. funniest and creepiest thing to ever happen to me on tumblr.

in 2018 after seeing finding dory I made a short little review post. I said it was OK, but some parts could have been better, and modern Pixar movies feel more like kids movies whereas older ones feel more general family oriented

pretty bland, right? I got some folks agreeing with me, and some folks asking my opinions on other Pixar movies. I specifically remember someone asking me about Inside Out which I ignored since I haven't seen it. then come The Weird Replies.

very tumblr. feeling a little saucy about this very extreme reaction to me saying I didn't particularly like a children's movie, I made another post and got yet another WILD response from the same person

then came the asks. again from this same guy. this was a few days or a week or two after the finding dory post so id forgotten about it lol. I think after this point I blocked them bc obviously I would

then I got some asks from someone different. note how the username is different but still has the same cadence, like they were generated from the same random username generator. older screenshot so they look different, the bottom ask was posted first, chronologically so read bottom to top:

at this point I'm getting bored of this, but the asks don't stop. in case it wasn't clear, this is the same person, making new sideblogs and sending me CONSTANT messages. I would come home to like, 20 to 50 messages in my inbox, goading me into responding to them and talking to them and to stop ignoring them. now I'm getting creeped out so I just block all that I get. then they start sending me dms on Twitter. ignoring isn't working so finally I respond and say something like "dude you're really creeping me out now. what do you want? what can I do to make you leave me alone?"

their response was that they had sent me the Inside Out ask, and got offended when I didn't answer it. they told me that they just wanted to make a friend online and it was really disheartening to reach out to someone to strike up a conversation and to be ignored. that all they really wanted was to talk to me and be my friend.

I reminded them that they told me I should have gotten mangled and disfigured in the car accident I was in the year prior and that they wished death on my family and why the hell would I ever be friends with them

thankfully they apologized but said "can I just ask that you don't block me anymore I would like another chance to talk to you"

I said no. absolutely not, leave me alone. I blocked them one final time in Twitter and that was the end of it

[gabessquishytum]

As summer is ending.

https://www.californiabeaches.com/california-sandcastle-contests-and-festivals/ | https://www.bbc.com/travel/article/20240424-the-triumphant-return-of-us-sandcastle-championships -- Sandcastle competitions!! (the winner in the BBC article won with a sculture called "Sweet Dreams Are Made of These"!)

🪣🏖

Dream now travels around the world to compete at sandcastle contests. He started doing it as a lark when his inspiration was at a low point and he wanted a new direction for his sculpture. The prize money isn't even a lot really, and many of the people who enter are just doing it for fun (like Hob Gadling and his son, Robyn).

Dream should be more focused on his sand sculture, but he keeps getting distracted by Hob and Robyn; Dream met them at last year's contest - they were grieving, but trying to get out more and do fun things together.

This year they looked better and Hob even waved at Dream when he saw him. Dream might have a crush on the little family.

This is perhaps the most adorable meet-cute of all time, and also feels so nostalgic to me bc I used to love seeing sand sculptures as a little kid 🥺

Listen, Hob and Robyn's sand sculptures are not very good. This year they are making a "speedboat" which is mostly just a hole with sand piled up around it and spade stuck in it as a gear stick. You could accuse Hob of not taking it seriously but he is taking it seriously, he's just a) not very good at sand sculptures and b) being assisted by a very enthusiastic 10 year old. It's a little embarrassing when he sees Dream working a few feet away, making a beautiful gargoyle from sand which looks like it could step right out of a fairytale book.

But Dream is so nice about the speed boat - he politely asks Robyn if he can sit in it, and Robyn makes appropriate speed boat noises while Dream sits in the hole and looks genuinely quite delighted. He even lets Robyn help him finish up the gargoyle (which stresses Hob out because he does not want to witness his beloved son accidentally knocking the sculpture to the ground - thankfully that doesn't happen).

Hob makes an executive decision and invites the gorgeous man to join him and Robyn for an ice cream. It may be his one chance to gaze at Dream in his little black sand speckled shorts, and Hob is determined to make the most of it. He'd reach out and hold Dream’s hand even, if he didn't think it would be confusing for Robyn.

He never could have guessed that Dream feels exactly the same way, and that seeing Hob lick ice cream off his fingers is driving him absolutely wild! Nor could he guess that next year, all three of them will create a terrible, wonderful, enormous sand sculpture together... and that Dream will kiss him when they win first prize!

[atlabeth]

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

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

summary: a look into your unclaimed year.

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

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

wc: 11.4k JESUS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could have warned me,” you seethed.

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you feel?” Tate asked anxiously. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank the gods you’re okay.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You huffed. “Sounds like an interesting place.” 

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

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

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

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

“You haven’t gotten a tour yet?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

You didn’t know where to start.

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

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

You frowned. “Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shook your head. “Only the infirmary.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope so,” you murmured. 

“Luke, who’s the new girl?” 

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

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

“Unclaimed or your sibling?” he asked. 

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

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

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

He snorted. “You’re telling me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“‘Course,” he said. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You blinked. “The god?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

“You promise you’ll be safe.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d the tour go?” he asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

“You’re not holding it right.” 

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

“You’re still not holding it right.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He winked. “Thank you.” 

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You still hadn’t been claimed. 

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

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

“How’re you doin’, Berkeley?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In training,” you said. 

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

“And my—” 

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

That gave you pause. “Bee?” 

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

“Just explain it,” you said. 

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

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

“Sure,” you said. 

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

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

“It’s in my genes,” he said proudly.

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

By the end, your face hurt from smiling

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey.” 

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

“Are you okay?” 

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

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

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

“No, I don’t,” you whispered back. 

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

“It’s past curfew,” you mumbled. 

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

Still, you stared at him. 

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

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

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

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

“So,” you repeated. 

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

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

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

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” 

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

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

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

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

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

Your frown deepened. “That’s awful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have your dagger with you?”

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

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

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

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

“We’re sneaking out even more?” 

“It’ll be fine,” Luke promised. 

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

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

-

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your parent?” he asked. You nodded. 

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

“Gee,” you said dryly, “thanks.” 

Luke shrugged. “You asked.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

You tilted your head. “That too.”

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

“God, I hope not. Priya hates me.” 

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

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

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

“I hope so.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I like it,” you said. 

“The ocean?” 

“Not so much.” 

“And the darkness?” 

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

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

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

“Why do you always do that?” 

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

“Do what?” 

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

“Luke—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Always,” he said. “And I mean that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luke smiled. “You know I always am.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

“Luke,” you whispered. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wh—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was your fault!” he exclaimed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Serene,” you suggested. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

Luke didn’t miss a beat. “Always.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Look at me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh gods. You were in trouble. 

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

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

“Luke,” you whispered. 

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

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

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

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

But you didn’t. 

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you say,” he mused. 

-

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

“What’s got you so down?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” you asked halfheartedly. 

“You— you’re—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(You should be happy.)

Your new siblings. 

…Your new cabin.

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

(You should be ecstatic.)

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

(Why are you not smiling?)

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

[ameliora-j]

‧₊˚ piercer!ron weasley x reader ‧₊˚

so anyway this has been on my mind since i got my nipples pierced specifically bc of the way i was moaning like a lil bitch in the piercer’s chair 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

content → piercer!ron, needles, nipple play, voyeurism, slight pain kink, praise, nipple piercings, blood mention, lightheadedness, 18+ BLOG MDNI

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡

you’re anxious as you walk into the shop, but you know you have to do this. it’s been years upon years since you’ve wanted this specific piercing—ever since you turned eighteen to be exact. you called on one of your breaks at work, asking if the tattoo shop did nipple piercings.

the kind lady connected you with the shop’s piercer—who to your surprise was a man with an english accent. after telling you the price, he asks specifically for cash. when you see the exact cash amount in your wallet, you figure it’s a sign. anytime that you plan in advance for any kind of piercing or tattoo, you lose the confidence of going nearly the day of—so it’s now or never.

when you walk in, a girl with bright pink hair looks around to see if anyone was available for a walk in. most of them were half asleep, and you feel bad for waking them up from their naps—but they don’t seem to mind. you’re surprised that they aren’t busy on a saturday evening, but a brunette man with round glasses stands and stumbled to the desk, ready to ask what tattoo you have in mind.

“um… hi… i called earlier um a-about… about nipple piercings” you stammer shyly, unable to hide the blush growing on your cheeks.

he wasn’t overly muscular or large, his small amount of tummy pudge peeking out as he stretched his arms high above his head, revealing more ink lining his torso.

“oh!” the man nods as he turns around and walks towards the back. “ron! piercing” you hear a soft grumble and a deep sigh—not of annoyance, but from just waking up. a tall redheaded man with broad shoulders appears. he has sleeves of tattoos lining his arms and some small tattoos on his hands. there was a small stud piercing beneath his eye, a few tattoos on his face as well.

you feel as though your breath is knocked out of your chest as he smiles at you, a small whine leaving his lips as he finishes his deep stretch. “sorry, i just woke up” he chuckles.

“oh no, don’t worry… i’m surprised you guys aren’t more busy tonight” you say, and he nods in agreement as he grabs the papers.

“i know, i was thinking the same thing” he chuckles, grabbing a pen. “i just need you to initial and sign this paper and then i need your id” he tells you, handing the paper and pen over to him. you nod softly and do as he says, passing over your id and scanning over the paper, initialing each line.

it isn’t long before you’re done and he comes back up to the front, leading you to his small section of the tattoo shop. “go ahead and sit right there” he nods, pointing to the tattoo chair as he looks over his tool tray and all that he has. you sit down in the chair, making yourself comfortable as you take your bag off and adjust yourself.

you learn quickly that ron isn’t much of a talker, but thankfully neither are you. he already has his tray set up, asking you a few quick questions as he moves everything over towards you. “so… obviously i don’t have a privacy curtain, i’m sorry about that” he blushes a bit as he finishes washing his hands. “If you just… bare with me a bit” he chuckles nervously.

he looks around his small station, noting that it’s basically out in the open. he’s a sweet man, you learn quickly, so you smile at him. “that’s alright” you reassure him. you wiggle a bit in the seat, still slightly anxious. “i’ll be fine” you nod, more so assuring yourself than him this time.

“go ‘head and take off your shirt, and then if you can just pull down your bra for me” he nods, turning around towards his desk and getting a little care package ready for when you go—wanting to give you at least some semblance of privacy while undressing.

when he turns back around, his cheeks tint pink as he looks first at your boobs then up at you. “you can just turn and face this way” he nods as he rolls over in the small circle chair. you do as he says and face him just as he turns to his tool tray. though he doesn’t have a privacy curtain, he uses his large body and broad shoulders to cover your breasts from the other piercers and the large windows—there were no other patrons in the shop besides you, so this made you feel incredibly at ease. “have you had your nipples pierced before?” he asks.

“no, never” you shake your head. he notices the tremor in your voice and gives you a little reassuring smile. he can tell you’re anxious, and he’s doing everything he can to ease your nerves. “i just have one rule for all my tattoo artists, piercers, nurses… anyone that comes near my body with a needle” you ramble a bit as you list the different occupations.

he chuckles a bit as he nods, grabbing an alcohol wipe to clean your nipples. “what is it?” he hums.

“don’t count.” you say seriously. “i don’t want 1, 2, 3 or 3, 2, 1… if you count i’ll tell you to stop and just go home” you tell him. ron laughs a bit harder, his orange curls bobbing as he nods in understanding.

“alright, i can do that” he nods. “i’m just gonna clean them, and then i’ll mark them and show you, and after that i’ll do the piercing” he informs you, and you’re nodding along with each thing he says. once you’ve gotten the nitty-gritty out of the way, you keep your head down, watching his arms and his body as he works. “do you have a preference of which one you want me to do first?” he asks.

“no” you shake your head. “just go for it” you giggle a bit, and he smiles at you. ron takes a gloved hand, starting with your left tit and gently pinching your nipple between his fingers. he flicks it a few times, his brows pinching together in focus as he plays with your nipple in order to get it hard. you don’t even notice ron has the needle in his hand until you feel it piercing through the sensitive skin.

you suck in air through your teeth, squeezing your hands into fists as you try, but fail, to bite back a whine. “breathe… breathe, it’s okay” ron whispers softly, inching a bit closer to you. “you can squeeze my shoulder if you need to… you won’t mess me up” he says softly. his movements are slow and deliberate, taking time to not mess up your piercing as he pushes the needle through to the other side.

a moan of pain tumbles past your lips once more as you squeeze his shoulder and grit your teeth. “owowowow” you whine, trying your hardest not to squirm or cringe away in pain.

“i know, i’m sorry” he murmurs softly. “you’re doing so good, we’re almost there” he whispers. just as he says that, you feel the needle poke through the other side, and you let out a sigh of relief. your relief is short lived as he pushes the jewelry through the new hole he just made in your body and another high pitched moan tumbles past your lips. “there we go…” he says softly, gently rubbing your side. “i just have to screw this in and then i’ll move on to the other side” he tells you as he grabs the ball end of the jewelry.

the second one is nowhere near as painful as the first—going in much easier as well. however, it still has you making those pretty little sounds on that are making ron’s cock harden as he wonders what other sounds he can pull from you. “that’s it” he praises gently, nearly having to physically restrain himself from placing a kiss to your delicate skin. “you did so good” he hums, beginning to clean the spilling blood.

“thank you” you smile at him as he finishes up, letting you know you can redress and beginning to clean his station. as you pull your bra back up and grab for your shirt, the room begins to spin. you squeeze your eyes shut and take a deep breath, a small smile gracing your lips as you become slightly loopy. “um… can i lay down for a minute?” you giggle softly.

“yeah of course!” he smiles as he turns to look at you. “are you lightheaded?” he asks, walking over to his mini fridge. when you only hum and nod in response, he hands you a capri sun and a pack of scooby-doo fruit snacks. “here… sugar will help” he tells you. he sits in his chair as you pop open the capri sun, now done cleaning. “eat the fruit snacks. all that sugar will help.” he tells you softly when he notices you only drinking the juice.

you nod lazily, squinting your eyes open as you make a small rip in the package. “yanno usually i’m paid to see my tits, not the other way around… and you didn’t even compliment them” you sigh, your head still spinning a bit as you smile lazily. you bite back a giggle when you imagine the blush that you definitely know is coating his cheeks.

his only response is a chuckle, and you think that’s the end of it until you’re checking out and paying him—now ready to actually stand straight and be able to drive your car. as you hand him the money, he gives you a care package, a cute sticker, aftercare instructions, ointment and alcohol wipes, a lollipop, and a blank card with his name and number. “text me a picture when you have the gauze off so i can make sure they look alright… maybe then i’ll compliment them” he winks slyly.

suddenly, you’re the one blushing as you walk out to your car.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡

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[therhythmafterthesummer]

IBDIJEUIDJBEYAI

I JUST HAD A BIG BRAIN MOMENT!!

Kitten surprising Min with her old school uniform and a lil role play. His mind is racing from the skirt and the memories and he can like touch her how he always imagined her

-🥝

you're so absolutely right, kiwi. this was a humongous brain moment.

i've had this ask in my inbox since mid-august bc i just had to write something I HAD TO since it stirred something within me. thankfully, i recently figured out how i wanted to go about this, and finally got to writing it💜

Pairing: Werewolf!Minho x Human!F.Reader (one of the main pairings of my WereRoomies series, but you probably don’t really need to read any of the other instalments to understand this one, although it's highly recommended!). | Word Count: ~3k | Themes & Warnings: Supernatural/Fantasy AU · Smut · Fluff · Established Relationship · role-playing as high schoolers (disclaimer: they’re both consenting adults fulfilling fantasies of their past, neither are genuinely attracted to minors in any way) · nipple play · unprotected penetration [piv. no barrier method, but reader is on birth control] · a smidge of a breeding kink · cumshot · barely proof-read as it usually is with these “drabbles”...

minors do not interact.

“Min–Minho…”

Oh, how sweet you sounded when you said his name like that… It was just how he’d dreamt it’d be. He’d heard you before, of course. But not in this situation, in this particular setting…

“My dad could be home anytime now–Oh, shit…” Your words got caught in your throat the second he bit one of your nipples. How could he not, when you were on his lap, with your uniform shirt open, and your bra just down enough for him to play with your chest.

“Shh, it’ll be fine, kitten”, Minho mumbled against the swell of your breast, leaving a love bite that he hoped would be visible when you wore one of your low tops. “If he were to come home, you know he doesn’t bother us when we’re doing our homework…”

You whined as soon as his mouth reattached to your nipple, as he gently rolled the other between his thumb and index finger… Your hands buried in his hair, keeping him close while you rolled your hips to find some friction against his crotch. The pressure had his mouth salivating further, borderline drooling all over your nipple like the dog he’d recently become.

Or, at least, in this fantasy, he had probably been turned a few years prior…

When you and Minho had come to your father’s house today to help him clean up some of your old stuff from your childhood room, Minho certainly hadn’t expected for the afternoon to take him right here. To him sitting on the edge of your bed, dressed in his school uniform, with you sitting on his lap, and dressed in your school uniform.

It had been such an impromptu thing… You found the pieces of clothing at the bottom of your dresser, forgotten from the last time you wore them in your final year. Back then, you always kept a spare change of Minho’s uniform for those nights when he unexpectedly stayed over.

‘Ohhhh, you should put it on. I used to love how the uniform looked on you’, you’d told him as you handed him the dress shirt with the school’s logo on it, and the white vest top he used to wear under it.

‘Alright, but only if you put on yours. The whole thing. I also loved how you looked in that uniform’, he’d told you immediately, because it was the truth. That plaid skirt and the white button-up used to make stellar appearances in his teenage-hormones-driven wet dreams. 

He used to feel embarrassed about it. You were his best friend in this world, and the fact that he found himself daydreaming of how it’d look like if he took a peek under your skirt, or how it’d feel if he buried his face in your cleavage, certainly made him feel guilty.

Now, as an adult well into his twenties, after you both shared your affections, he no longer felt as guilty about it. Especially after learning that you yourself had those thoughts about him back then, too.

When you put on that uniform shy of fifteen minutes ago, Minho was reminded of all those thoughts he used to have, of all the sleepless nights and hidden chubs at school… It hit him then that maybe this was exactly why he loved seeing you in skirts so much in present day. A result of his teenage-self’s never fulfilled desires.

Sure, he couldn’t button his shirt since his shoulders and arms had broadened with age, and your skirt was certainly much shorter than it used to be, but that didn’t stop either of you from falling into your roles.

‘Mmm… It’s almost like we have just come back from school and are getting ready to get some work done’, you chuckled as you looked at yourself in the mirror and adjusted your thigh high socks.

That sentence alone lit up the bulb in his head, it sparked a naughty little idea that he knew you’d either entertain or laugh about. Either result was fine by him, so he had no qualms when he walked behind you, and looked at you through the mirror.

Calling your name as he placed his hands on your waist, Minho had asked you to turn around to face him. ‘There’s… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for so long… Please don’t be mad…’

Minho feigned nervousness, like he was once again that boy that had seemingly unrequited feelings for his best friend.

‘I really, really like you… Can’t stop thinking about you. How’d it be like to kiss you, to feel you close in ways other than platonic. You’re my best friend, and I cherish that deeply, but I just… I like you so much’, funny thing, how those were pretty much the same words he’d wanted to say to you back then. Words he had practised in front of the mirror a few times, but he was always too much of a coward to actually tell you.

You looked at him in what Minho figured was feigned shock. Oh, how he loved you… You just knew him so well, and knew exactly what he was doing without saying a single word. ‘I… I like you, too. Have liked you for so long, Minho…’

Minho had cupped your cheeks and pulled you in for a kiss. He kissed you as if he’d never done it before, desperately, hungrily, no time for being tender and soft when all he’d wanted was to devour you whole. And you had retaliated, of course. You’d pulled him close by the collar of his shirt and pressed your chest to his, kissing him with fervour.

‘Even if I’m… If I’m now…’ A beast, was what he wanted to say as he spoke between kisses. Minho had maybe fallen a little too well into this role of his younger self. He could still remember how insecure he used to be about his condition, how he looked down on himself after being infected with this goddamn lycanthropy… Those were feelings that no longer existed within him, he had now long since accepted this was part of him. If anything, with time, he’d embraced it. 

‘I’d like you even if… Even if you were a worm’, you replied simply, making him giggle, which in turn made you giggle.

Minho scooped you into his arms after that, and he walked the remaining steps to your childhood bed so he could sit on it with you on his lap. In no time, he was groping you over your shirt, under your skirt, and you had started to beg for him to touch you more.

His instincts were stunted, you knew that, he knew that, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have this animal side to him. Sometimes, especially when he was horny, that animalistic side of him took over his logical mind, and, back when he was a teen, he could recall having a harder time with certain feelings and emotions like these. So, he let them cloud his reason a bit as he fulfilled this little fantasy of his…

Minho ripped your shirt open, the buttons flew all over your room, and you gasped when he buried his head between your breasts. The thing was also a bit too tight on you, so he was sure you wouldn’t miss the garment if it got ripped a bit in the process.

You scrambled to take a hold of his hands, bringing them to your chest so he could fondle you over your bra, once again begging him to touch you. To ‘Please, please, Minho, touch me. I need it. I need you…’

And he was sure his cock was about to pop out of his jeans with how hard it got at your desperation.

So here you were, grinding into each other, on your childhood bed while Minho feasted on your tits.

“Fuck, that feels so good, baby. Harder. Do it harder…” 

How could he deny you when you sounded so needy? When he’d wanted to do this for so long? 

He bit harder, pinched harder, pulling strangled sounds of pleasure out of your lips. The more attention he gave to your chest, the more you rolled your hips against him, effectively pulling sounds of pleasure out of his lips.

His senses were flooded by you. The smell of your arousal on your lavender scent, your weight of him, the taste of your skin on his tongue, all combined had him almost delirious, especially when his free hand found its way under that godforsaken skirt of yours to tightly grope one of your buttocks.

“Baby, I think I’m… I might…”

Fuck, if you came just from him playing with your chest and you grinding your cunt on the tent in his jeans, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to contain himself. Although, he supposed coming in his underwear would’ve been a very accurate representation of what would’ve happened if his teenage self had ever had the opportunity to have you on him like this…

Minho couldn’t help but groan when you tightened your grip on his hair, when you started to roll your hips faster, harder… God, all he wanted right now was for the girl of his dreams to come, he needed to feel you trembling in his hold, to drown in your scent so he could convince himself this was happening.

Seeing you come, holding you tight while you did, was just absolutely delightful. You bit on your fist to keep your moans contained, while your whole body shook with your release.

Minho had to make the conscious effort not to blow right then and there. He was sure that if this had happened back when you were still that young, he would’ve certainly done so. He imagined that this would’ve probably been your first sexual experience together, that you’d laugh about how he soiled his underwear and how needy you’d been, before you laid down and cuddled for a bit…

Maybe you would’ve had sex a different time, on a different day where you were sure your dad wouldn’t come back home… But this wasn’t about being fully realistic, this was about having fun while fulfilling a shared fantasy.

“Fuck, Minho, baby, stop… I’m sore…”

Minho finally pulled himself away from your chest, mumbling a very unconvincing ‘Sorry’ before he attached his lips to the pulse point on your neck, relishing how fast your blood was pumping in your veins.

“You’re so fucking hot, my kitten. I’ve been dreaming of this moment, y’know?” He mumbled in your ear, taking one of your breasts in his hand to fondle the flesh, with special care to not stimulate your nipple too much.

“Me too, baby…” You were still trembling occasionally within his arms, taking deep breaths to get your racing heart to slow down inside your chest. “I’ve wanted this so bad… Even… Even touched myself thinking about it”.

“Mmm, fuck…” Minho started sucking love bites on your neck, following this faint need in his gut to leave his mark on you. “Have you?”

“I have… Sometimes, I did it while we slept in the same room”.

Minho wasn’t sure if this was you playing your fantasy, or if this was a real thing that happened, but, being honest, it didn’t matter. It made his mind disconnect completely as soon as the words came out of your mouth regardless.

Before he could even register it himself, he had stood up and thrown you on the bed, eliciting a shaky, surprised gasp from your lips. In a second, he was on you, kissing you hard, messily, even desperately. Your limbs wrapped around him, your arms around his neck, and your legs around his middle, bringing him further down to lay flush against you in your heated kiss.

He was dizzy, lightheaded, and for a second, he almost believed he was in the past, that he was making out with you on your bed after school, that he was about to lose his virginity to his best friend.

“Fuck, I need to put it in…” Minho barely detached his lips from yours while he spoke, just kept messily kissing you between words as he ground his hips to your core. “Please, please let me put it in… Need you…”

“We–we need a condom, Min”, your hands found their way under his top, where they settled to caress his back, making him shiver. “I don’t have any here”.

“Fuck, I don’t have any, either”, Minho left your lips to instead attach his own to your collarbones, to nibble on the sensitive skin, making you whine. “I’ll pull out. I got quick reflexes, it’ll be fine, please…”

He certainly was playing into this horny-teenage-boy thing all too well. Although, he was sure his younger self wouldn’t have been this stupid to believe just ‘pulling out’ would be an effective contraceptive, and surely neither would you. After all, back then, your dad made sure you both knew about being safe, which Minho was grateful for to this day. 

Regardless, the very real implant you had in your arm made it so he could play like this, so you both could play like this.

“Shit, you’ll pull out?” Your hands trembled when they found his backside and squeezed him. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“Promise, kitten. Cross my heart”.

One of your hands left his bum to move to his crotch, where you cupped and squeezed him and overall felt him over the fabric of his jeans. He couldn’t help but buck his hips to let you feel as much as you could of him. “Fuck, okay. But Min… I’m not sure this will fit…”

“It will. I’m sure it will. It has to. You trust me, no?”

With a deep breath, biting your lip, you nodded. “Trust you with my life”. 

When Minho pulled himself away from your hold, he just had to tell you how fucking gorgeous you looked with your hair all messy, your tits out, your ripped shirt, and that fucking skirt… The hem pooled on your belly, exposing your underwear and the mouth-watering wet-patch on them.

God, he wanted a taste… But there wasn’t enough time for that right now.

Minho hastily unbuttoned his jeans, pulling them and his underwear down just enough to free his length. You swore under your breath, taking him into your hand and spreading the pre-cum that had beaded at the tip so you could easily stroke him. 

“Baby, please…” You guided him to your core. With your free hand, you pulled your underwear to the side, and dragged the tip of his cock all over your folds. “Need it. Need you, Minho…”

One day you’d be the death of him, he was sure. 

Under normal circumstances, Minho would’ve stretched you open with his fingers, he would’ve made sure you were absolutely ready to take that annoyingly big alpha cock of his. But he figured skipping the step would be a bit more… in character.

“Oh, fuck, fuck…” Minho pushed himself into your heat slowly, letting your walls adjust to his length with what he hoped wasn’t much discomfort. He knew that if there had been any, you would’ve said the word that would immediately stop everything you were doing. “That’s so fucking tight…”

You whined, not necessarily in discomfort, but in that way that made him know you were feeling impatient. Wrapping your legs around his hips, you tried to push on his backside to get him to get in already. “Please, I need it all. Now”.

“Shit–!” As soon as Minho bottomed out and had propped himself on his forearms, you took a hold of his hair and pulled him down for a messy kiss.

There was just so much spit. Everything was so sloppy and messy and he was honestly enjoying it way more than he ever thought he would.

“Fuck, you’re so hard… Can’t believe you fit”, you mumbled breathlessly against his lips, releasing his hair to place your hands on his back.

“Didn’t doubt–Shit, if you keep clenching like that I’ll come, kitten… Didn’t doubt I’d fit right in. Isn’t this cunt for me? Hm? Hasn’t it always been?” Minho didn’t even give you time to respond, he just started to thrust, a borderline animalistic pace that had you biting on his shoulder to muffle your moans.

There was nothing but heavy breaths and desperate groans and whines and moans… Nothing but the sound of skin slapping against skin and the headboard hitting the wall and your nails sinking on his clothed back…

Minho vaguely realised he was growling with each thrust. Like an animal. He was making all these sounds like the animal he was. And every time he did, your body just immediately reacted. Either by clawing at his back, or biting harder on his shoulder, or clamping hard around his length…

It was honestly driving him crazy. It reminded him that, ultimately, you accepted him, that you loved him just as he was. What an odd, but pleasant reflexion to make when you both were fucking, and pretending to be your teenage selves at that.

“It–It is”, you meekly mumbled after a while, and Minho, a bit puzzled, pulled himself away from your neck to look you in the eyes. “It’s yours. Has always been. I’ve always been”.

Minho swore loudly, throwing his head back once your words registered properly in his hazy mind. Your cunt was his, you were his. You’ve always been…

That reassurance, coupled with the vice grip of your walls, got him so incredibly close…

“Fuck, kitten, gonna come. Need to–need to pull out”, Minho was panting, drunk on the pleasure he was feeling and the fog clouding his reason.

Your legs tightened around his frame, keeping him as close as you could while he kept thrusting into you. “What if–What if you don’t?”

“Oh, God… Don’t say that…”

“Why? What if I want your puppies? Hm?”

He was going to die. Minho was sure he was seeing the gates of heaven open up right in front of him.

“C–can’t. We can’t…” Shaking his head, Minho tried his best to hold back, a titanic effort with how fucking good you were making him feel, with how fucking in love with you he was.

“Can’t…?” There was a pout on your lips, highlighted by your blown pupils, and Minho, once again, shook his head in response.

Minho just desperately shook his head. “Kitten, baby, please…”

The hold of your legs relented. Minho immediately straightened himself and pulled out of your warmth to take his cock in one of his hands while the other gripped your hip tightly. One, two pumps and he was groaning deeply, coming all over your underwear, over your mound and your now only partially exposed folds.

The sight was nothing short of exquisite. Your wrinkled, open shirt, your tits still falling out of your bra, with your nipples slightly puffy after all the attention Minho had given them, the skirt hunched at your waist, and your underwear drenched in his cum… 

Minho felt light, satisfied, and, as he tried to catch his breath, he just took you in.

After a few moments of silence–silence, save for the sound of your heavy breathing and the ringing in his ears–a grin made its way to your face, and, a second after, you broke into laughter. It made him laugh, too. Maybe uncontrollably so.

“Oh, that was awesome”, you chuckled, wiping the tears that had collected in your eyes at your outburst. “So good”. 

“Totally agree”, Minho leaned into you to press a brief kiss on your lips before he left the bed to find a face towel from your dresser to clean up the stupid amounts of cum that had come out of his stupid monster cock off of your body.

“‘Suppose it was a good thing that my dad isn’t coming until very late today. It would’ve been seriously awkward to explain what was going on if he found us… Well, like this”, you started shrugging your shirt off as soon as Minho had finished cleaning you up, and proceeded to work the couple of buttons on your skirt.

“I don’t think he would’ve appreciated the sight, to be honest”, Minho chuckled, getting out of his shirt and vest top as well to put his t-shirt back on and do his jeans. 

As soon as you two were dressed properly and in clean clothes, you both laid back down, unbothered by the soiled sheets. Minho simply pulled you into his arms, and pressed a brief kiss on your forehead before he hugged you close.

“Kitten…” Minho mumbled against your hair after a while, dragging his hand up and down your back in a gentle caress. “Was that true?”

You absentmindedly traced patterns on his chest, shapes that he could’ve sworn were hearts and stars. “Was what true?”

“Y’know… that thing about… About you touching yourself while I was in the same room…”

You pulled yourself away from his hold a bit so you could look him in the eyes. A smile came to your lips, right before you started opening your mouth to speak.

© therhythmafterthesummer 2023. all rights reserved. do not repost or translate my stories.

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[mimasroom2]

Accelerating fury

A Hunger Games Ellie au

In this specific au the hunger games didn’t end with Katniss,, just bc I wanted this to take place after ^•^. I mainly focus on the reader/you until the parade with all the costumes and chariots, but I PROMISEEEEE Ellie comes into play😭🙏 plz I just love to yap. This isn’t the plot of the original Hunger Games! It’s very similar but I did tweak it to be different so! Know that if you read!

Reader is from district 8 (textiles)

Ellie is a badass from district 2 (masonry)

((Btw the photo of the dress I included is the dress that reader wears,, I am OBSESSED w Lolita fashion !!))

C/w: uhhh it’s the hunger games sooo… death? No smut in this one (everyone throws tomatoes at me). SLOWWWWWW BURNNNNNN. If you don’t like yapping and plot don’t read😭 No use of Y/N. Cursing bc ms collins couldn’t😘 Strictly lesbian reader.

W/c: 5k

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

It started like all the stories you had ever heard. The same girl from every year, Maria Miller, gave her speech about the Hunger Games. How everyone was oh so excited for this year. Apparently President Snow and the gamemakers had something special planned, as if they don’t say that same thing each time.

You scoffed, and crossed your arms as the same video began. After all this time you basically had the thing memorized. ‘War. Terrible war.’ you repeated to yourself. The few friends you had snickered to the side of you, and you playfully bumped them to get them to shut up. There were so many capitol officials here today. The peacekeepers were easily more than tripled. They wanted absolutely no distractions from Maria - they saw today as regal as the balls you hear about that go on in the capitol. You looked down at your clothes and smoothed them out. Thankfully since your district was textiles, you actually had something decent to wear, unlike the kids you see from district 12.

And you were well off enough to only have your name entered the minimum number of times, not more times for food like some of your friends with large families had to do. You only had this year, and then next year, and you were done. They cut you off after you turn 19, and then you never have to worry about the Hunger Games again. Well, unless you happened to get pregnant and have kids. But there’s no chance that was happening. You’d rather play dead at a necrophilia convention than have sex with a man.

“Well, as usual, ladies go first.” Maria snaps you out of your endless stream of thoughts and you look up to see her hand already rustling in the bowl of names. You reach over and hold the hands of your friends at you side. Your friends have a tradition of holding hands during the reaping. You’ve been doing it every year, and none of you have been picked. Knock on wood.

Maria digs around in the fishbowl full of names, you look over nervously at your friend Riley. She’s one of the people who had to enter more for extra food. You gulp and look ahead as Maria begins her painfully slow process of opening up the paper and reading the name.

It started how every living victor describes it. They say the more you hope it doesn’t happen, the more likely it will. The more you repeat ‘please don’t say my name’ in your head, the more likely your name will be called.

Maria opened her mouth and your blood went cold. You felt that horrid feeling one only feels when something disastrous happens. You had only felt it once before, when you late girlfriend was taken away by peacekeepers, about two years ago. At least you weren’t the one being dragged away to be hung. At least then you knew you were going to survive.

Everything around you went fuzzy as dissociation swept in. You couldn’t hear your friends gasping, or Maria calling out your name a second time. You barley felt the ones you loved letting go of your hands, until you realized you were carrying yourself down the rows and rows of people right to the stage.

Your thoughts about mundane things drew in as you stood there waiting for the male tribute’s name to be called. You thought about your cat, and your friends. The plans you had made for the rest of the week. The new job you were going to start soon, after you had the courage to quit your old one.

Before you know it, Maria is already back at the mic and talking to the crowd, “Everyone, please give a big hand to the tributes chosen to represent district 8 in this year’s Hunger Games!”

You didn’t even see the male tribute come up. You slowly look to your right and see a guy named Jesse. You’ve met him before, went to school with him and took a job together. You knew him, but you didn’t really know him. That would probably make it easier for you, if he was one of your friends then you’d be obligated to protect him. At least when he dies you can keep going. Fuck, now is not the time to think about that. You mentally scold yourself for being so grim.

~

Right now you were following an Avox down winding staircases and hallways to meet your stylist. You’ve heard rumors saying she’s supposed to be one of the best, always coming up with unique and astonishing outfits every year. I mean, that makes sense, she was styling outfits for the textiles district after all. The Avox leaves you in a little room to wait.

Suddenly the door opens and a girl steps inside. She looks only a few years older than you. “Hi. I’m Dina. I’ll be your and Jesse’s stylist.” She actually holds out her hand, and you shake it. She grabs a stool and sits down in front of you. “Now, I’m guessing they already told you about sponsors, right?”

You nod. Your mentor, Tommy, already told you all about them on the train to the capitol. You’re trying to use your organization skills from your job to your advantage. You’ve been thinking about what angle to take: wether you should paint yourself as a smart stow away or a sexy young lady. No matter what you thought of, it had already been done before. Even if you had never seen it televised yourself, your mom and dad had told you stories passed down of a beautiful singer from one of the first games who poisoned everyone, the man who used the force field to his advantage who then made the gamemakers mad, and the girl from a few years ago with the bow and arrow who did everything to save the one she loved.

“Great.” She claps her hands together. “Tell me a bit about yourself. I like to take direct inspiration from my tributes in order to give you guys the best shot.”

You can’t say anything. You just stare at her. The way you pictured it, only frilly old people worked in the capitol. This girl seemed so.. normal. No fancy jewelry, no over the top hairdo, no long spider lashes. She’s not even wearing work clothes.

“How did you end up here?” You ask. You’ve been wondering, but you never meant to actually say it out loud. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that, you don’t have to answer.” You look away from her.

“Wow. No one’s uh.. ever asked me that before.” She laughs shyly and when you look up, she’s nervously fidgeting with the bracelet she has on. She clears her throat, “My older sister took care of me when my parents died. This used to be her job. We had family debt, so when she died, I took it on.” She sighs, “That’s about it.”

“I’m sorry about that.” You try comforting her. There’s really no use. There’s no cameras here. It’s just you and her. You really don’t have to please anyone, but you’ve decided in this moment not to be overtly cruel just to win. If you were going to do it, you were going to do it right.

She smiles softly, “Thank you.“

“Uhm, do you seriously not have a plan yet? Like, for what I’m gonna wear?” You try getting back on track, there’s really no time to waste. If you do this wrong, you only have a few days guaranteed left to live.

She smiles, “Nope. I do my best work in the middle of the night. There’s a reason why everyone oohs and ahhs at my designs.” She winks.

“And there’s a reason you haven’t been fired yet.” You try testing the waters.

“Damn, you sly dog. Gonna have to let Tommy know we got ourselves a wild one.” She laughs and rubs your head, like how dads do.

Huh. If all capitol citizens are like this, this is gonna be easy.

~

The next day, you and Jesse briskly follow the same Avox to get dressed in whatever Dina cooked up for you.

“She uh, she ask you to talk about yourself too?” Jesse prompts, keeping his hands in his pockets.

You nod, “Yup. Quite the character huh? Not really what I was expecting when I picture a capitol official.”

You glance over, look him up and down, and snort. He couldn’t have been bothered to change out of his pj’s. “Hey don’t look at me like that.” He throws his hands up. “We’re going straight to get into costumes. Needa save my energy for the arena.”

The mention of the arena makes your heart drop. You were so entranced by the yummy food and cool technology you forgot why you were in the capitol in the first place. Jesse goes silent after that, keeping his head low as he continues to follow the Avox. You don’t know why, but you just now realize he must be scared too. You also realize you never actually told Dina about yourself, so you assume she must have taken inspiration from some of the conversations you guys had.

You guys finally arrive and meet Dina in front of a dressing room with huge mirrors. “You’re up first, Jesse.” She smiles and pats him on the shoulder. They disappear into the changing room, leaving you to sit with your own thoughts on a little chaise. You hear Jesse laugh, and think about how nice it would be to get to know him under different circumstances.

“Heya, stranger.” A voice says from behind you, and you instinctively jump. You turn around and see Tommy, your mentor. “Woah there, games haven’t started yet.” He chuckles and you laugh a little. He reminds you of your dad. He won his games awhile back. He’s getting old, and his wife, Maria, is the one who called your name at the reaping. You didn’t realize the two were married until you were bad mouthing Maria, about how she just had to pick your name, when he showed you his ring. You apologized profusely, and he was very kind. He even said that’s not the first time that’s happened since he’s become a mentor. You sure lucked out. The people on your team almost seemed like family, even though you only met them a few days ago.

“What’re you doing here, Tommy? And where’s Maria?”

“Maria’s talkin’ to the gamemakers. She basically runs us here in the district 8 level. Even me.” He crosses his arms and chuckles. He really is like a dad. “Yeah, but I’m here cause I honestly don’t have nothin’ else to do. Only reason I’m still alive is cause I won my games, so now I gotta tell you how to win yours.”

“What about Jesse?” You tilt your head and ask.

He keeps eye contact with you, “I meant Jesse, too.”

“Oh.”

He pauses for a second. “Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. Good girl, keepin’ your head in the game.” He pats you on the back, a little too hard.

Before you can cringe at the exchange that just happened, Jesse walks out in an all white aristocratic outfit. The shirt has so many ruffles you can’t even count. Must be a pain to iron. The pants are high waisted but are tailored to fit him perfectly. There’s a white bow tie with pearls on it, too. Everything is so simple, yet so fancy. You can tell Dina used some really expensive materials. Probably the most expensive she could find. Jesse even has a little white cane to go with the look.

He does a little spin for everyone watching. “Cool, right? Almost breaks gender norms a little.” He smiles and blushes softly at Dina, who looks proud.

“It’s called Ouji fashion. Used to be real popular couple hundred years ago.”

She faces towards you. “Alright. Now it’s your turn.” She grabs your hand and leads you into the dressing room, “Yours is called Lolita.” She explains.

“Is this all for a certain occasion or anything? Like they’d go to a fancy dinner and wear this?”

“Nope. For fun.” She grins widely and holds open the curtain for you.

Your jaw drops. “Wowww.” is all you can say.

The most gorgeous dress you’ve ever seen in your entire life rests on a mannequin in the middle of the room. You swear to god, you might actually cry. Working in textiles, you could only dream to even ship out a dress as pretty as this.

It’s all white, like Jesse’s, but what it lacks in color, it makes up in texture. There’s so many details to it. Your head spins trying to figure out how the hell Dina did all of this in one day. It’s got this beautiful big skirt that looks like it can swallow you whole. Long sleeves that flare at the end. And lace everywhere. There’s absolutely every accessory you could ever wish to own: earrings, necklace, little lace gloves, stockings and heels. Not to mention the headdress with pearls all over it to match Jesse’s tie.

You carefully reach out to touch the fabric, almost like you expected it to melt, like snow. “I’m wearing… that?”

Dina pretends to look around the room. “Who else could it be for?”

She talks as she helps get you undressed and into this thing. “I think it really says something about you guys. Like, ‘Hey. We’re from textiles alright, and we don’t play around. We’re here to knock you off your feet!’ Well, both figuratively and literally.” You try smiling a little, but every time someone mentions other tributes, you feel sick.

Once you’re finally in the outfit you walk out to show Tommy and Jesse. Dina opens the curtain back up, and everyone gasps as you slowly walk out. Maria’s there too, and she immediately runs up to hug you.

“Alright, guys.” Dina claps her hands together. “It’s go time.”

~

You and Jesse stand together, slowly looking at all the tributes.

“Fuck,” he mutters, “There’s so many of them.”

You nod. “They seemed so small on TV…” you trail off as you look around at each costume. They just keep getting better and better, but you think Dina was right in getting to know you and Jesse. You think your costumes fit you the best.

Everyone’s in a blob, so you can’t tell who’s from where. Dina shows up behind you and leads you two to the 8th carriage. Before you get on, she points around and tells you who’s from which district.

“Sorry, Dina. I’ve never been around horses before.” Jesse says as he tries to get up into the carriage.

“You’ll get used to it.” Dina smiles, and goes to take her place backstage.

“Ladies and Gentlemen welcome to the 81st annual Hunger Games! I’m your host, Caesar Flickerman, and today we are awaiting the tributes for the famous carriage parade…”

As he drones on, you can’t help but keep looking at the female tribute Dina said was from district 2. You scoff to yourself, she must be a career. The capitol should, in theory, make them illegal. But they love the drama they stir up. You take a deep breath, flattening out the dress near your hips and fluffing up the skirt, all while keeping your eyes locked on the girl a few carriages in front of you. This has to be perfect.

Jesse sees you staring her down. He nudges you a little, “Her name’s Ellie.” He starts, even though you didn’t ask. “Saw it on tv on the train here while you were sleeping. Supposedly she got blackmailed into volunteering. Her dad fucked with the wrong crowd and this girl threatened to kill him if she didn’t volunteer. At least, that’s what I heard anyway.”

You simply hum in response, closing your eyes and continuing to make your dress look as neat as possible.

Not satisfied with your response, Jesse states, “She’s pretty, right? Not my type though.”

You look up at her again. “Yeah, no. Not my type either.” You lie through your teeth. Damn, if you had seen this girl anywhere but here, you’d wanna be buried in her thighs. What, who said that! You clear your throat and try to focus. It’s gonna be easy. Just wave and flash that pretty smile and the sponsors will love you.

You see the first carriages start to go, and you hear Caesar announce, “And they’re off! Wow! Look at them go!”

You take one more deep breath before your carriage starts to be pulled out of the shadows and into the stadium.

“Would you look at that! District 1, never failing to impress.” Caesar goes on, he sure can make anything sound like the best thing ever. “And here comes district 2. I hear we have a bit of an outlier this year.”

All of a sudden, the girl, who appeared to just be wearing a normal suit, spreads her arms out and metallic wings emerge. She doesn’t even smile. She just smirks, and the crowd goes wild.

You look up on one of the big screens and finally get a clear view of this Ellie girl. She’s wearing just a plain black suit, and behind her are those giant metallic wings. You squint your eyes. The camera zooms in and you see the wings aren’t just made of hunks of metal, they’re made of guns. Your jaw drops, but then you remember you’re on live television, so you immediately straighten up.

“That’s crazy.” You mutter to yourself, but Jesse must have heard it because he nods in agreement.

“I love it, I absolutely love it!!” Caesar goes on, and the crowd never stops cheering for her, even as more carriages come through.

You take your eyes off the screen and look at her in front of you. She’s absolute eye candy and she doesn’t even look like she’s trying. Your stomach and chest twist out of jealousy. If these people don’t cheer for you and Jesse just as loud… there’s going to be a problem.

Finally, it’s your turn. There’s big lights shining on you as you emerge into the light of the stadium. You wave your hand like how you and Dina practiced in the mirror. You want to give almost a regal look, so you give a small, elegant wave. At the same time, Jesse raises his cane to the crowd, almost like he’s saying ‘Hello. How do you do? I’m very fancy, yes. I’d love it if you sponsored me.’

“How charming! Oh my, I love it! That is amazing!” You smile when you hear Caesar praising the two of you.

You reach the middle of the stadium, and bust out the move you know is sure to get a good reaction: you smile wide, but keep it classy, and start blowing graceful kisses into the crowd. When you’ve done that enough times, you pick up your skirt in one hand, put your other hand up to your heart, and bow graciously.

The crowd absolutely eats it up.

You come back up from the bow and look in front of you. You can’t even hear what Caesars saying, because you lock eyes with Ellie, who’s turned around to stare at you. You can’t exactly tell what her expression is, because she’s so far away, but you swear you can hear exactly what she’s thinking:

‘I’m going to kill you.’

~

That night, you lay awake in the plush bed of the room you’re staying in. Maria keeps saying ‘your room’ ‘your bed’, and it honestly annoys you a little bit. They’re not yours. You’d rather be back in district 8, in your own actual bed. You roll over, trying to get comfortable, as you need to sleep and conserve all your energy for the games. Oh shit. The games. You groan, reaching over to grab a pillow and hugging it to your chest. Why are the games still a thing? They should’ve ended years ago. You remember there was almost an uprising all over Panem. That girl Katniss maybe? Your brain is too foggy, you can’t even think straight.

You hug the pillow tighter. And what was with that girl Ellie? You made a mental note to watch her during training tomorrow, to see what she does.

You sigh, and reach up to rub your head. Now with thoughts of Ellie, there was no way you could sleep.

~

“How’d you sleep?” Jesse asks the next morning. After breakfast the two of you walk with Maria to the training center. She keeps telling you that if you’re on time, you’re late, so you guys always end up at every place at least 15 minutes early.

You shrug your shoulders, “Fine I guess.” You don’t want to tell him that you couldn’t really sleep, or all the nightmares you had, or what you had to do to stop thinking about Ellie.

“It’s weird. It’s way too quiet.”

You look up at him. “Where?”

He gestures around the ginormous building, “Here. In my room.”

You laugh a little, “Oh, so it’s your room now?”

“Cmon. You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, look. We’re here.” You nudge Jesse a little, trying to lighten the mood. He just shoots you a disappointed look.

You, Jesse, and Maria sit side by side on a little bench outside the training center. There’s already a couple people there, but not too many. Now that you’re closer to the other tributes, you can really evaluate them in your head. You look at them one by one, saying things to yourself like ‘Oh I could definitely take him in a fight.’ And ‘I’d feel bad but that 12 year old would get absolutely hounded.’

As each new pair of tributes arrive, you do the same thing. Eventually, everyone is there but two.

The head trainer comes out and taps her foot. You look around. Of fucking course it’s her. The one person you actually wanted to see. You hear a laugh in the distance and look up to see Ellie, her mentor, and the district 2 male tribute casually walking to join the rest of you. Huh. You’d think she’d wanna be here early to scope out her prey or something.

You slowly look her up and down, you hope she locks eyes with you so that she knows you’re staring. You cross your arms and mutter to yourself, “I could take her.”

Jesse seems to have a talent for hearing you when you don’t mean to, because he asks, “In a fight or…?”

You gasp and punch him. You both laugh, and you feel grateful he’s not the vengeful type.

The head trainer explains all the rules for today, and even though you hate being here, it’s actually pretty cool to see how it all works.

You and Jesse decide to split up. You’ll focus on survival, and he’ll focus on combat. Then, when your time is halfway done, you’ll come together and tell each other what worked and what didn’t, and you’ll switch.

It’s a pretty nice plan, considering some of the tributes from the same district are already starting to get sour with each other and split up. You hope that doesn’t happen to you and Jesse, you’re actually starting to really like his companionship and company. You sigh and start to look around at what to do first. There’s the plant matching game, the fishing area, or maybe you should focus on shelter instead of food?

You start to head over to the makeshift tent area, when something off to the side catches your eye.

You see Ellie all by herself, squatting in the area where people learn to make fires, with a little switchblade. You cock your head to the side, and look around. No one’s paying any attention to her.

All the other careers from 1, 2, and 4 have already teamed up, like they always do early on. They’ve come up with a game where if you fall on the monkey bars, or can’t shoot a perfect arrow, you have to stay behind an extra 3 seconds by the cornucopia.

It’s absolutely fucking stupid, and they even go and win almost every year. You glance back over at Ellie. Her hair is in a messy half up half down style, and somehow she makes the weird training suit you guys are forced to wear work.

Your breath starts to quicken, but you say fuck it and go to talk to her anyway.

You shuffle your feet a little so that she knows someone’s coming. Now is really not the time to scare her. “Too bad we had to end up here, huh.”

She seems a bit shocked someone’s actually talking to her, with how quickly she looks up at you. “What?”

“Too bad we had to end up here.” You repeat yourself.

Ellie stares at you. “Least it’s not the quarter quell.” She says flatly.

You swallow, surprised that her voice is higher than you expected. You realize you’ve never actually heard her speak before, and you pictured her voice to match her face: rough and a little mean.

But it’s sweet.

You just laugh awkwardly and agree. You don’t want to seem like you’re towering over her, so you sit down on the ground next to her. She only continues playing with her switchblade. You try to sneak another glance at her, and you notice she has so many beautiful freckles up close.

“You do know how to make a fire, right?” You decide to break the silence and ask.

She sighs, “Of course I do.”

You gesture to the pile of sticks and wood in front of her. “Let’s see it then.”

Ellie just stares at them. You guess she’s probably trying to figure out what to do first. “Right. Of course. Fine.” She says, shaking her head. She grabs two sticks and tries to rub them together.

You gently place your hand on hers to stop her. “You need to make a nest first.”

She blinks at you. “Like for birds?”

You laugh a little, “No, silly. Here…” you grab the sticks out of her hands and place them down to build a nest for the fire. Ellie watches closely to what you’re doing. You hold out your hand for the knife Ellie’s holding, and she reluctantly gives it to you. You carve the end of one stick into a point, and then twist it into a log until the fire starts. “There.” You say, and look at Ellie.

She slowly looks at you. “Just never had to make one before.” She mutters.

You don’t mean to stare to be rude, but her green eyes are almost sucking you in. She seemed so cool and able during her first appearance in the parade. But now that it’s just all the tributes together by yourselves, she’s acting almost… apprehensive. I mean, it doesn’t really matter. The goal is to appease the sponsors and mentors, so they can send you gifts in the arena. There’s really no point in making friends if you’re going to kill them.

“I’m sorry about what happened by the way.” You suddenly spit out. You mentally slap yourself for being so awkward and having no rizz.

Ellie sure seems to have a habit of just staring at people until they elaborate.

You inhale sharply, “With your dad.”

She sighs and shakes her head. After a few moments of pause she replies, “Yknow just cause I’m from 2 doesn’t mean I’m a career.”

You nod, you didn’t want to say you could tell in case she got mad and tried to kill you early.. “Yeah… but, it’s not like you had to be here.”

She hugs her knees closer to her. “I mean. I kinda did, actually.”

You cock your head to the side, “What do you mean?”

“To make a really long story short,,, I was forced to volunteer or else my uh, dad Joel, would have died. This girl named Abby has had it out for me. She put her name in like, hah, fucking 200 times for so she’d get called. Told me if I didn’t volunteer to take her place she’d uh… yeah she’d kill Joel.”

You can’t really hide the way your mouth drops. “Shit, man. Wow. That’s- yeah, I’m sorry.” You were never really good at consoling people.

She mutters out a quick ‘thanks.’ You think it’s so quiet it could classify as a whisper.

Ellie goes on, “I mean.. everybody now thinks I’m this total badass cause of the parade. That wasn’t even me. That was my stylist,, hell, he told me what to do and when to do it to get the best reaction.”

“You did look really cool during the parade, to be fair.” And you’re not even lying. You were sure all of Panem was losing their shit as soon as Ellie raised her arms.

She looks at you and softly laughs. “Hah. Yeah, I’m just tired of relying on other people and taking away their credit, yknow?”

You nod. You never really imagined she could be so… thoughtful.

Even though you’re in a death game, you mentally slap yourself for not having proper manners like how you were taught, “Oh wait. I never introduced myself. I’m-“

Ellie quickly puts a finger up to your lips to tell you to shut up.

“I know who you are. I saw your reaping too. And who couldn’t forget that dress you wore.” She whistles, looking you up and down.

Now it’s your turn to stare at her. The conversation is going better than expected, and you hate to say it, but you couldn’t get rid of that butterfly feeling in your stomach. You hoped that if you didn’t win, it was Ellie. And if she did happen to die, it was quick.

You can’t help but look at her lips, although you look up at her again when you ask, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

She looks into your eyes and mutters, “Because you’re the first person who’s actually made an effort to talk to me.”

Part 2 :3

𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞

[olderthannetfic]

I always see people who have never been antis, talking about/questioning how some antis even ARE antis when you look at their taste in media - ie the ever famous joke of "Hannigram is #problematique" "but it's a show where he eats people" or whatever.

I thought I'd weigh in as someone who could, hypothetically, be called an ex-anti (which, thankfully, nothing ever really came out of it - it was just very 2014 keyboardwarrior-esque behavior of me being a chronically online young adult who would share posts in a group chat making fun of certain shippers, or reblog posts about how 50shades is The Most Problematic Media Ever to exist -- basically I was an anti with anti-lines of thoughts, but i never, like, a ran a Shipping Discourse Blog or whatever)

For me, personally, it was a few different things. I can now see how it's incredibly hypocritical that teenaged me shipped Light/L, while still thinking that Dramione was Bad And Abusive. It ultimately boiled down to a) being pretentious, and b) just not understanding media or what proshippers REALLY believed, with a side of c) not realizing that nuance exists. like i was pretty late to join tumblr, I think I immigrated here during PEAK "yourfaveisproblematic" era which definitely did have an impact on my opinions and my tastes.

to elaborate, a.) being pretentious. i mean this one just kinda goes without saying. "I engage in media in a way more intellectual way than you do, don't you know that? You're a filthy and disgusting person who writes Snape/Hermione because you're an actually disgusting pedophile IRL who would probably date your own student that you're abusing if you could. Meanwhile, I'm a very smart, good, and pure person. When I read Uncle Vernon/Harry, I'm doing it in a G-d honoring whump way that clearly condemns abuse, incest, and rape. Unlike YOU who only writes harmful stuff as a way to get people off :/"

(as an aside, i think this line of thinking will ALWAYS be present in fandom and popculture in some way, sadly. ie the recent trend of people hating on booktok bc the books are 'trashy' and how these porn addicts should read real classic literature instead.)

as for b.), not understanding media - i cannot emphasize enough that i was GENUINELY stupid and disconnected enough to think that proshippers REALLY WERE pro-All Of The Degenerate Dead Doves That They Wrote.

why did i feel this way? why did i understand that Lolita clearly isnt pro-pedophilia, but for some reason i thought that someone shipping weecest was? well, first of all, i think that fanfiction is (generally) seen as Less Serious than classic literature, and fandom is a fun place, so i guess i somehow thought that every fanfic/fanartist who wrote Problematic Things, especially Problematic Things that they portrayed as Sexy, really DID enjoy the thought of that Actually Happening To Real People.

and i think THIS is the bulk of why antis ARE antis. i'm not calling them all stupid - i do think BEING an anti is stupid, but at the same time, there are people who are truly smart and good-intended people who just have some really off color opinions about, like, homestuck ships or whatever. Lawlight is okay because notebooks that kill people don't exist so it's IMPOSSIBLE for the Harmful Aspects of Light/L to be romanticized! but schoolyard prejudiced bullies DO exist and are a REAL problem so Drarry is BAD (*truly completely unaware of the fact that there's 'realistic' aspects of the Light/L dynamic and 'unrealistic' aspects of Drarry - such as, for example, Hogwarts arguably being even MORE of a fantasy setting than DN is.*) I know that media literacy is the hot buzzword of the year to throw around in 2024, but, like, i really did not have media literacy.

as for c.), not realizing nuance exists - ok "nuance" might not be the best word here, but i dont know how else to describe it. like, each time ive typed the word "problematic" out in this ask, i've done so in a very tongue in cheek/ironic/retroactive way, but, like, those posts about how Everything Is Problematic, Including Your Fave ARE true. and i didn't like the fact that my favorite media or favorite person might've Made A Mistake! i need to Talk About Its Issues Because I'm So Betrayed That My Dear Sweet Comfort Media Would Do This To Me. I Need To Prove I Clearly Condemn It.

like, i legit morally could not justify reblogging a twilight post without adding in the tags '#this is my guilty pleasure it sucks that the books were so racist though' or whatever. Most people were lucky enough to avoid that line of thinking, but there was an actual group of people who felt a genuine need to virtue signal all the time, partly bc, hey, they WERE passionate about talking abt #issues in media, but also bc of a subconscious fear of If You Reblog A Singular Piece Of Hetalia Fanart, You're Literally A Nazi And Will Get A Callout Post Written About You.

and during all of this i was at the tail end of my high school experience (yes i know im younger than most of your audience, ha). i was going through A Lot emotionally, going through a lot of life changes, and lived in a very . . . interesting household/place where i couldn't do ACTUAL good in the world that i was passionate about. so to make up for the fact that i was genuinely in no place to do legit activism, clearly i had to save the gay community by arguing about johnlock queerbaiting or whatever.

^ and honestly i do think that is the position of most antis. theyre isolated and cant seem to do Enough in the Real Scary World so they have to resort to talking about how bad of a person someone is for "shipping abuse", bc theyre not in a situation where they could, for example, ACTUALLY fight the good fight to end abuse or raise awareness for it.

There was way more to it and way more that I could say, if I wanted to, but this post is long enough as it is and probably doesn't make much sense.

I feel bad for antis, honestly, or at least the ones who are antis in the way I used to be.

--

Oh yes, passionate young fools who think they can at least fix the internet if not their lives make up most of the cannon fodder. Some of the ringleaders are just mini dictators and wannabe cult leaders, but most anti-leaning types are just traumatized or clueless, even a lot of the ones who do serious damage and don't just mock shit in private with their friends.

[wildemaven]

don’t drink the punch | dave york

-> pairing: dave york x f!reader

-> word count: 3382

-> content warning: 18+ blog; insecurities, jealousy, holiday party antics, mentions of food and alcohol, office gossip, smut (unprotected p in v, fingering, orgasms), there’s no mention of it but reader is on BC, Dave is divorced from Carol, Soft and Sweet Dave, let’s say this is AU and no murdering is happening (or that at least reader is not aware of), reader is mentioned to be wearing a dress with heels and lingerie, otherwise zero descriptive features for reader, I think that’s everything but let me know if I missed anything

-> notes: more soft Dave because he’s been rotting my brain and making me weak lately. This could be the same universe as Caught Kissing Santa, but also can be read as a stand alone piece too.

-> masterlist / holi-dave masterlist

“I would enjoy these holiday parties a little more if the drinks being served had some actual bite to them. Then I wouldn’t have to give another forced Thank You to my Secret Santa for another gift I’m just going to re-gift to an unsuspecting family member. Did I mention how much I hate these parties?” Cathy shares among the small group of you and a few others, tucked in the corner of this year's CIA Holiday Party. 

You laugh into your fluted glass of sparkling apple juice. Mainly because she’s right. These parties tend to be a little boring, as do most office holiday parties. Lacking any sort of decorum that would indicate there’s an actual party taking place. The lobby has far more holiday cheer than this conference room at the moment. 

Red streamers taped to the wall above the food table and green plastic table runners haphazardly draped over random surfaces help add some festive color to the drab atmosphere. But the tiny plastic tree with misshapen branches bent in different directions placed in the middle of the long table in the center of the room, really ties everything together. Due to budget cuts, there wasn’t much of an allowance for new decorations, according to Cathy. Thankfully, you had convinced Dave to keep leftovers decorations from last year’s party in the supply closet

Once gifts were exchanged, the party felt like it was dragging on longer than it should. Your feeting aching in the too high heels you always decide on, snacking on nearly stale bread and cold artichoke dip, most of the other items already picked over. You patiently wait for the moment everyone else decides it’s time to call it a night and meet up at a local bar to continue the celebration, all while you make your way home to enjoy the rest of the evening with order in pizza and comfy clothes. 

The majority of the party you spend talking with a few friends to pass the time. Catching up on random office gossip, the latest romance rumors that have all departments engrossed in every detail and any other dramatic news that you haven’t heard about. All topics are enough to keep you entertained for the time being. 

“Maybe if York wasn’t so tightly wound and put some actual effort into these things, they would be easier to enjoy.” Sheryl adds to the conversation. “Between us, I might have brought a small flask of vodka to add to the fruit punch— should make things a little more interesting.”

“I’m sure his hands are tied, so you can’t really fault him for not allowing the hard stuff. Plus, are you even allowed to drink on site?” You decide to give your opinion. While you do see where they’re coming from, you can’t really hold it against Dave for not wanting to deal with everyone liquored up. And you’re more than certain there’s a zero tolerance policy for alcohol anywhere in the building, clearly Dave is just following the rules. You’re more than fine enjoying several glasses of the fizzy juice, noting to steer clear of the punch bowl. 

“By the way— did you see the new tie York got? I’m shocked she made him put it on as soon as he opened it— a little awkward to do in front of everyone. I will say, it looks good though, doesn’t it?” Cathy points to where Dave and one of his much younger Agents are still talking on the other side of the room. 

You watch as he holds up the ends of the tie, as if they’re both discussing the color and material of it. He must have said something funny, because she’s laughing now. You no one notices the way you subtly roll your eyes when her hand reaches out to him, holding the side of his forearm as she talks. She must be telling him how hard it was to shop for him, but she just knew he’d love the tie. And how she spent hours searching for the right color— it's black.

She’s cute, whatever her name is. One of the newer recruits you haven’t had a chance to meet yet. She looks to be in her mid to late twenties. A young, confident woman whom you’re definitely not jealous of with all the attention Dave is giving her right now. She’s a good 10 years younger than you if you had to guess. She’s attractive too. Dave seems somewhat oblivious to her slightly flirtatious behavior. Being the nice guy that he is and giving her his undivided attention— makes sense. 

“Don’t you think it looks good?” You realize you’re being asked a question about said tie he’s wearing. 

“Yeah. It looks really good on him.” That’s a lie. It does look good, but you kind of hate that she gave it to him, given how flirty she's being towards him. It’s not anything you would have ever picked for a Secret Santa gift, especially for Dave. The premise of the gift exchange was supposed to be fun, silly gifts. She should have opted for a coffee mug that says, Tears of my Employees, but that’s just your opinion. “Such a great color, too.” That part is the truth, it is a great color on him. 

“Speaking of looking good— that dress on you is killer!” Sheryl shifts the compliments in your direction, catching you off guard and has you feeling slightly embarrassed at the attention. 

“Oh! This? It’s just something I picked up earlier this week. I feel a little overdressed though.” You say all demure like, looking down at the way the black material drapes over your body. The dress feels a bit much compared to everyone else’s business suit attire. The high cut of the slit and the low straight neckline with straps holding it onto your body have you sticking out more than you would like. 

“I’m sure Dave has told you plenty how beautiful you look in it.” Sheryl says confidently. 

“Umm—  no he hasn’t mentioned it. I haven’t had the chance to talk to him much today, actually.” You say meekly, looking back over in the direction of where Dave is. 

When you go to sneak a glance at him, he’s already looking at you, not caring what the cute younger Agent is saying in that moment. His attention fully focused on you. He gives you a wink, raising his half-empty glass— cheers to you from across the room. You mirror the gesture back to him, pairing it with a genuine smile now painted on your face. He turns his attention back to the younger cute Agent, both of them now joined by a pair of Agents from analytics. 

“Well, the night is still young. I’m sure he’ll be giving you all the praise soon enough.” Cathy says, pouring some red punch into her glass.

“Sure.” You smile politely at Cathy and Sheryl. “Umm, if you’ll both excuse me. I need to go use the ladies room.” Deciding you need a minute to yourself. Ditching your glass at the end of the long conference table, you make your way out of the room down the hall. Seeking out a few minutes of quiet to let your mind clear before heading back into the lackluster party. You catch Dave’s profile as you walk by the glass wall of the conference room, paying no mind to anyone outside the little holiday bubble he’s in. 

The echoing of your heels clicking against the tiled floor is the only sound you hear as the bathroom door shuts behind you. You debate whether or not you should give your feet a break from being stuck  in such a high arched position for so long, deciding against it at the thought of walking nearly barefoot in a bathroom. Placing your purse on the porcelain countertop, you take in your reflection in the mirror. Adjusting the straps on your shoulders, then sliding your hands down the front of your body. Admiring and reminding yourself how good you do look in this dress, it’s the main reason you decide to wear it tonight. 

You’re not even sure why you were doubting yourself to begin with. You groan out loud into the unoccupied space for how you were comparing yourself to another woman— a woman you don’t even know. She doesn’t deserve that. Sometimes your insecurities creep in, clouding your mind with lies and false narratives you’ve conjured up. You brush it off. Grabbing your purse, you apologize mentally to yourself as you make your way back out into the hallway. As well as to the young woman who had also been on the receiving end of your near downward spiral. You’ll introduce yourself properly when you get back to the room. 

Someone must have found a speaker. A vibrant Christmas song, you can just barely make out, is coming from the conference room. Most likely another one of Sheryl’s attempts to liven up the crowd. You’d given anything to see the look on Dave’s face right now— he has the worst poker face when he’s annoyed. 

You’re halfway back to the party when you get distracted. An open door to an empty office has you intrigued. The plaque next to the door reads Dave York - Deputy Director NCS. Your fingers tracing over the carved out letters engraved on to the gold metal. 

Laughter pours out of the party filled room at the end of the hall. Your fingers pausing over the last letter of Dave’s name. Glancing back over your shoulder, double checking that you are alone. Shadowy figures are still milling about on the other side of the glass wall. The party far more alive than when you left it. The addition of music was just what it needed. 

You decide you’re in no rush to head back. The open door to Dave’s office practically welcoming you in. 

Wall to wall shelves behind Dave’s desk have some sort of lighting that adds a soft ambient glow to the otherwise dark room. The rest of the walls are adorned with college degrees and various certificates, years and years of hard work and dedication.

You toss your purse to the leather chair that is off to the side as you make your way to the large desk. It’s made of some dark slab of wood, the sleek angles and metal hardware gives it an elaborate modern look. The desk is cool to the touch, your fingertips following the grain of the wood, as you take in the details of Dave’s space. 

There’s a gold frame that catches your eye, twinkling under the dim lighting. You grab it from where it sits next to another photo of Dave’s daughters, Molly and Alice. 

You’re instantly drawn to Dave in the photo. The sheer happiness that’s evident in the smile he’s wearing. A smile that he doesn’t wear often at work or for many outside of it. His dark locks brushed off of his face, in a dressed up polished manner. Face cleanly shaven, allowing his dimple to be on full display. There’s also a brightness in his eyes. You admire the way the photographer was able to capture such a beautiful candid moment. 

“That’s my favorite picture” You turn to see Dave standing in the doorway of his office. Suit jacket discarded somewhere. His hands in his pants pockets. Head tilted ever so slightly as he slowly scans up your body until his eyes meet yours. 

“Hmm… You have to say that, it’s your wedding photo.” You say as a matter of fact. Turning back to his desk, you glance at the framed photo one last time. You finger brushing over the portion of the picture where his handsome face is. 

You’re too focused on the happy couple staring back at you, missing the barely audible sound of his shoes drifting over the carpeted floor as he slides up behind you. You nearly gasp at the sensation of his body pressed up against you, butterflies erupting in your stomach. His touch is captivating, evoking a sense of want, desire blooming immediately. 

Your body doesn’t shy away from the way his hands settle on your hips. Welcoming the way his lips move over your skin, a gentle trail of kisses that lead upwards from the round of shoulder to the small space below your ear. Your stomach tightens. Goosebumps erupting all over. 

“It’s our wedding photo.” A gentle squeeze of your hips as his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. He plucks the frame from your grip, setting it back in its designated spot on his desk. 

“Are you trying to seduce me in your place of work, Mr. York?” A playful smile forms on your lips as you turn to face him, rucking the skirt of your dress over your hips as you sit on the edge of the desk, the silky material pooling around your waist. 

The insecurities you had been feeling earlier in the night, long gone, forgotten under his intense gaze. Your hands lay flat over his documents and files as you lean back into a more seductive position, careful to not disturb their tidiness. 

“Fuck, Baby. Looks like you’re the one doing the seducing, Mrs. York?” The new black lace panties and garter set you picked up this week on display for him. His hands glide over the black stockings that stop mid-thigh, his fingers slipping under the garter strap, continuing their upward movement, as he steps into the space between your legs. 

“Is it working?” You purr, knowing full well it is based on the grip he has on the apex of your thighs. A small yelp escapes your throat as he slides your lower half closer to the edge so your flush against him— not missing how hard he is under his black slacks. You carefully allow yourself to lay back fully over the desktop. 

Your hands catch the end of his new tie. Pulling at it tautly, bringing him down so he’s maneuvering his body over yours. One hand resting next to your head as the other guides one of your legs over his hip, encouraging you to wrap them around him. 

“I just got all of these papers in order. Hours of reading and organizing. They’re going to be a mess now.” Dave’s voice is honeyed, holding zero malice in his words. 

“I’m sure you can have one of your cute little Agents clean them up for you.” You tease, which only encourages his own seductive movements. Your eyes flutter shut at the way he ruts himself hard against your aching mound. Open mouth kisses delivered across your cleavage.

“Are you jealous, Mrs. York?” You can feel the way his lips perk into a smile on the top of your breast when he asks. 

“I-I was. She’s very pretty. But I know who you’re going home with at the end of the night.” Your fingers card through his soft locks at the base of his neck, your head tilted back as he soft nips at your jaw. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think Julie finds you more attractive than she does me. She asked several times who the breathtaking woman in the black dress was.” That was a twist you hadn’t expected. 

“Oh! Did you let her down easily?” Dave’s wandering lips are halted by your question. He pulls back, eyes filled with reverence as he looks down at you. The air between you is charged with an unwavering love for each other. His hand gently cups the side of your face, thumb slowly tracing over your bottom lip. 

“I told her how you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. How you make my life better. And that I don’t know what I did to deserve such a beautiful woman like you.” He’s the sweetest man you’ve ever met, a wonderful father to his two girls and an incredible husband—  falling in love with him was one of the easiest things you’ve ever done. 

“Dave—“ Tears prick at your eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now, let me take you home so I can unwrap you properly.” He tries to lift himself off of you, but you have other plans— more exciting plans. 

Grabbing his face and pulling him back to you, your lips connect with his. Tongues melting into a fiery kiss. No further words needed, as your body does a fine job of conveying exactly what you need from him and you’re grateful he catches on quickly.

His hand slips under the lace material of your panties. Seeking out your pleasure as he alternates between soft deliberate circles over your throbbing clit and working you up with two fingers inside your warm cunt, hitting that delicious spot over and over again, causing you to bite back an explicit moan as you silently tip over the edge. 

Rushed movements blur into the next. Working together to free his hard cock from his boxers and pants. Forgoing the effort it takes to remove your elaborate straps and lace, pulling your underwear to the side is all that’s required before Dave is slowly sinking into you. 

Shared breaths and discreet whimpers fill Dave’s office. Nails biting into exposed skin with each heady thrust Dave delivers. Papers shuffling beneath you as your body tenses, arching into his. Dave senses you’re close, your vise-like grip has him nearing his own release. 

“Dave! —fuckfuckfuck—  Baby, I- I’m going to come!” You're breathless, trying your best to keep your voice low, not wanting to be heard by anyone. 

“I’m right there —shit!— with you, Sweetheart.” 

Your lips connect with Dave’s again as your orgasm surges through you, swallowing each other's moans and triggering Dave to spill inside of you. 

The room is nearly quiet again as Dave’s forehead rests on your chest. His skin is warm against yours.  Your lungs work effectively to help regulate your breathing to a normal state. 

A kiss placed over your heart, then to your lips before he’s slipping out of you. Dave adjusts your underwear back in place as you still lay boneless on his desk, body a tingling mess is bliss. 

“That was a first for us. Surprised it hasn’t happened sooner.” He smiles down at you as he tucks himself back into his boxers, tucking his dress shirt and refastening his slacks. 

“Hmmm— I’m not opposed to it happening more often— make sure to pencil me in.” You hum softly at him. You reach out for his hand to help you off the desk. His hands instantly catching you and your grip onto his shoulders, your legs a little wobbly when your heels hit the ground. 

Your dress adjusted, Dave’s tie situated, compliments exchanged —You look gorgeous in this dress, This tie was a nice choice, she did a great job picking it out— sweat patted down with a tissue— a valiant attempt to look less conspicuous as you both head back to the party hand in hand. 

You both decide to stay a longer, indulge in a little more of the festivities, you suggest ordering some pizza for everyone. Dave agrees and mentions also needing to call Carol at some point to tell the girls goodnight.  

“You think they will notice we were missing?” Dave asks, his arm wrapping your waist and pulling into his side as you both stop at the door to the conference room. The space is still filled with boisterous laughter as music continues to keep the energy flowing. 

“I doubt it. They’re probably too busy discussing how boring your parties are.” You smirk at him. 

“Boring? Who’s saying they’re boring?” His head whips over to you. You can already see him mentally running through names, his signature scowl now visible, looking back at his fellow agents. 

“That’s for me to know and for you to stress about until the next one. I’m going to go introduce myself to Julie. I’ll see you in a bit.” You kiss his cheek and make your way back inside. You take a few steps before stopping and turning back to him, your dress skirt billowing out around your legs. “Dave, don’t drink the punch.”

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Drunken Serenade

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ ONLY, soft!joel, established relationship, flashback, alcohol consumption, unprotected piv, a lil dirty talk, creampie bc obvi, unedited bc i’m lazy)

word count: 2.5k

joel masterlist | joel playlist

It was no small feat holding the affection of Joel Miller. Though he often grumbled about hating how everyone was always “watchin” him in your small, second-chance town of Jackson, Wyoming, there was no escaping it.

Part of it came from being related to Tommy and Maria, the town’s founders for all intents and purposes. A larger part of it—the part that Joel hated most—no doubt came from his reputation of being ñ prolific at killing. Not many people could say they met someone that managed to survive for as long as Joel had, especially in the brutal conditions he often found himself in. To the people of Jackson, regardless if you were a fighter or a farmer, Joel Miller was a living, breathing legend.

And that’s what he was to you, too, for a while.

But now, in the dim lighting of Joel’s kitchen, Joel’s hands scrubbing the dishes after the two of you shared dinner for the 300-hundredth something time, he was just a man, a man you loved, humming softly to himself.

“Sounds pretty,” you complimented the unidentifiable tune as you slid your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his shoulder blade as he continued to scrub. “Do I know it?”

“No,” he answered with softness, the almost-clean pan in his hand preventing him from turning around and wrapping his arms around you. “Just somethin’ m’workin’ on.”

“Will I get to hear it in full one day?” You let go of him to stand at his side, grabbing the clean dishcloth that draped on the oven handle to dry the clean dishes sitting on the rack.

“Maybe,” he gave you a flicker of a bashful smile, his hip leaning out to bump into yours. “Long as you serenade me back.”

“Oh, you want me to sing for you, huh?” You couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped from your lips at the thought of your mediocre-at-best vocal talent gracing his ears again, Joel having heard it for the very first time one year ago at the bar. Your sloppy, drunken rendition of “I Have Nothing” last Valentine’s Day earned you his attention for the very first time, an attention that thankfully never faded.

One Year Ago — February 14th

“Let loose,” your newest (well—only, if you were being honest with yourself) friend in Jackson, Margot urged you on at the bar, sliding one of the shot’s of harsh, unrefined vodka she’d ordered towards you. “You’ve been babysitting that beer for the last hour. Come on.”

“I don’t drink,” you whined, the thought of alcohol alone enough to make you gag.

“Look, you’re single and alone on Valentine’s day in the middle of an apocalypse. There’s no better reason to drink.” You couldn’t argue with her logic, so you pinched your nose and tipped the shot glass back, the cold liquor hitting your uvula nearly forcing it right back up but you championed through it with a wince. “There ya go!”

“Jesus Christ—“ you choked on your beer as you tried to drown out the taste of the vodka still burning your throat. “You’ve had three of those! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m a masochist,” she joked with a chuckle before gasping at the sight of Tommy and Maria finishing setting up the karaoke machine on the tiny stage in the corner of the bar. “I’m signing us up.”

“Absolutely not!” You laughed as she walked up to the esteemed couple on the stage, Tommy handing her the sign-up sheet with a grin before finding you in the crowd and waving you over. You shook your head and tried to hide away, but he seemed determined.

“I can still see you!” he drawled out in his accent, Maria’s whistles finally getting you to make your way to the stage. “Here, have a look at the catalog. I’ll go get you another drink, you look like you might need some liquid courage.”

“Definitely.”

A few shots later, you were well past the point of courage and deep into drunken stupidity, the microphone in your hands as you unabashedly belted out the words to a near-impossible to pull off song, your voice breaking and cracking the entire time. Though crowd in the bar was mostly focused on their own conversations, you couldn’t help but lock eyes with a familiar face, though you’d never so much as spoken to the man before.

After all, what reason would the town’s school teacher have for chatting up the famous Joel Miller?

Clearly too drunk to care about your lack of acquaintance, you pointed at him as you sang, a wide grin on your face as you watched him try to calm the smile that grew on his.

“I have nothing! Nothing! Nothinnnnnnnnnng—“ your cracking voice softened into a mildly enjoyable breathy tone as you sang the last line, stretching your hand out for him as though you were serenading him. “If I don’t have you.”

“Well! That was definitely somethin’,” Tommy helped you off the stage while Maria continued to emcee, holding in her chuckle as you almost took a tumble down the singular step, Tommy quick to catch you. With a singular laugh, Maria ordered her husband to help sober you up a bit. “Get her some coffee.”

“I got it,” Joel stepped in, the deep mess of his southern rasp forcing your glassy eyes up to meet his. “Come on, Miss Houston. Let’s get a cup’a coffee in ya.”

You drunkenly slurred out your actual name as you allowed him to help walk you into the back kitchen, away from the drunken crowd. Joel chuckled and nodded as he got the coffee pot going, his back turned to you as you rested against the fridge.

“I know your name,” he replied, the simple sentence bringing a goofy grin to your face.

“Oh, yeah?” you flirted, biting your lip as you waited for him to turn around and grace you with eye contact. When he finally did, you literally felt your knees buckle, Joel’s eyes turning concerned for a moment until you steadied yourself.

“Lemme get you a chair.” He walked off to the office, returning a moment later with a wooden stool. He set it down by the metal island, ordering you to sit down with a pat onto the wood. “Take it you don’t drink often.”

“Never,” you corrected. “But I’m single and alone on Valentine’s day in the middle of an apocalypse, so…” you repeated Margot’s words from earlier before realizing you hadn’t seen her in at least an hour. “Margot! Have you—“

“She left with her husband ‘bout a half-hour ago,” he informed you before you had a chance to worry too much. “And you ain’t alone.”

“Huh?”

“You said you’re single and alone,” he replied, turning his back to you once more as the coffee pot began to fill the mug. “You ain’t alone.”

“Well, not literally, but—“ you shrugged, gesturing at yourself. “Not going home with anybody.”

“Well, gettin’ yourself drunk maybe put a wrench in that plan,” he chuckled, setting your cup down in front of you before walking to the fridge. “Need creamer?”

“No, I’ll just,” you took a sip of the hot liquid and hummed, enjoying the bitterness more than you did sober. “Pretty good.”

“I do pride myself on my coffee,” he walked off to the office and quickly returned with another chair, pulling it up to the island and sitting down in front of you. “You know how many guys out there would’ve been more than happy to keep you company tonight?”

“Oh, I’m sure there was a line,” you replied, your smirk growing into a smile as you watched Joel roll his eyes. “I don’t like any of the guys in town. They’re all too…brutal.”

Joel’s face fell a bit as he nodded, his knuckles tapping on the metal.

“I didn’t mean you—I just mean they’re all very…I don’t know,” you sighed and rested your forehead on the table.

“It’s alright,” he assured. “My ego ain’t bruised that bad.”

“I really didn’t mean you,” you spoke softly as your eyes met his again. “You’re not—I don’t consider you one of the guys in town. You’re like…untouchable to all of us, you know?”

“What?” He chuckled but his cluelessness was sincere.

“All of us women don’t see you as someone attainable. You’re…Joel. Too good for—“ Joel’s scoff interrupted your sentence before you could finish it, his head shaking.

“I ain’t too good for shit,” he corrected, his hazel eyes softening as he met yours. “And I definitely ain’t too good for you. Ask anyone in their right mind and they’d quickly tell ya it’s the other way around.”

“You trying to flirt with me?” you asked through. drunken grin, tilting your head at him. Joel chuckled and shrugged in response. “That wasn’t an answer.”

“Maybe you and I can talk about this when you’re sobered up—breakfast, tomorrow mornin’?” You didn’t try to hide the eagerness in your smile as you accepted his offer with a nod.

“I’d like that.”

After the dishes were finished, the two of you found yourself in the clawfoot bathtub Joel’s renovated house had been lucky to feature. You faced each other, your foot currently being massaged by Joel’s rough but tender hands.

“Your voice ain’t that bad, ya know,” Joel gave you a playful smirk, his eyes so focused on yours you could nearly feel his love for you deep in your soul.

“Well it was enough to get you to notice me,” you agreed with a smirk. Joel shook his head, his smile growing bashful.

“I noticed you way before that, trust me.” There was the tiniest hint of shyness—something boyish in his voice that made your stomach flutter, the look in his eyes just the cherry on top. “Only had the guts to ask you out ‘cause I thought you were too drunk to remember it.”

You gasped a chuckle, shifting over to sit on his lap, placing your hands on either side of his face as his rested on your hips. “You were crazy for ever thinking there was a chance I’d reject you. You’re a hunk, Joel Miller.”

“A hunk, huh?” he teased, bringing his lips to the base of your throat and giving your skin a soft peck.

“Mmhm,” you confirmed in a hum, the best response you could muster. Joel hummed back as his lips sucked tiny marks down the front of your chest until he was slipping your nipple into his mouth, earning the sweet sound of your breathy moans.

You tossed your head back, your hips rolling on their own accord, the slick drag of your cunt along the underside of his cock earning you a muffled growl as he kissed his way over to your other breast.

“Need you,” you whispered as you reached back and gripped his cock, lining him up with your heat before sinking down until you were flush with one another. Joel’s hands squeezed tightly at the sudden sensation of being buried in your heat, his lips pulling away from your nipple with a lewd pop. You grinned as you kept yourself still on his cock, your thumb brushing his cheekbone as you gazed down at him with contentment. “Love you, Miller.”

“Love you too, Miss Houston,” he replied with a matching, cheeky smile, his hands sliding up the curve of your spine and back down, resting on the globes of your ass and squeezing.

You lifted your hips almost completely off of him and locked eyes with him as you sank back down, Joel’s head tipping back against the edge of the tub. He moaned soft and sweet for you, his hands holding your waist as you started to bounce on him, your stare never leaving his as you began to target the head of his cock at your g-spot. He reached one hand up to cup your jaw, his thumb resting on your lip practically begging for you to take it into your mouth, and so you did. With a cheeky grin, you wrapped your lips around it and gave it a suck, humming at the whimper the act caused.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he praised, his eyes then traveling from your face down your torso until he was watching you spear yourself with his cock underneath the surface of the water. “Shit. You should see how pretty your pussy looks takin’ me.”

“Joel,” his words forced you to whine, your eyes squeezing shut as the tingling heat building in your core started to trickle down your thighs and up your spine. “Touch me and make me cum for you.”

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” His thumb found your clit, stroking imperfect circles over it as you started to bounce on him so hard he half-wondered if he might break you, but judging by your cries of praise, this was exactly how you wanted it. “God damn, darlin. Ridin’ me so good I—fuck—I’m gonna cum inside that pretty pussy.”

His free hand gripped your hip to leverage himself a bit as he met your bounces with sharp thrusts, the water splashing from over the edge of the tub but neither of you could bring yourselves to care about the wet floor with how close you both were to the edge.

“Shit, baby,” he growled, his neck straining as he tried to hold off his release until you hit yours. “Come on, gimme it. Lemme feel you—“

“Fuck!” you screamed as your climax hit you like a brick wall, your body collapsing forward into his arms. Joel held you tight as he pistoned into your still convulsing walls until every nerve in his body buzzed with the familiar feeling of euphoria, his cock pressing in deep as he spilled inside of you. His lips were pressed to your cheek, mumbling praise into your skin as your hearts raced in tandem, his hands stroking up and down the expanse of your back to ground you both.

“I love you, sweet thing,” he mumbled as he kissed his way to your lips, your head turning to meet him for a sweet, unhurried kiss. Joel pulled away with a chuckle, smiling at you before opening his lips to sing to you in his gruff but rich voice, “I have nothing if I don’t have you.”

“Sounds good when you sing it,” you mumbled, sleepy from the hot bath and hotter sex. Joel chuckled and leaned forward, pressing his lips to your temple.

“My favorite version’s always gonna be your drunken performance,” he husked back, bringing a smile to your face. “But I might be a little biased.”

“More than a little.” Joel laughed and nodded, squeezing you tighter.

“Oh well. Don’t care.”

[lowkeyrobin]

James Hook x gn!Bill Cipher!reader :D

I don't know if you understand the character I'm referring to, but it would be a reader with the powers of Bill Cipher and the same sadistic and carefree attitude that caught Hook's attention

xoxo ᰔᩚ

okay I can definitely try, but I can't promise this is good. I haven't watched gravity falls since like elementary school and I wasn't even that much of a fan so I had to use a lot of Google, so sorry if this is ooc ; thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; also I saw that he has immortality so I wanted to play on that a bit bc music influenced me to do it lol ; also this essentially has no plot and is just some dumb rambling

JAMES HOOK ; cipher

summary ; a post-bridget going evil apocalypse au thing where you're super op, somehow died, and are now sifting up a plan with hook

warnings ; language, death, blood, kinda gore (?), stitching together body parts, reader is kind of a sociopath

disclaimers ; set post-bridget turning into QOH, aka the timeline where red and chloe didn't go back (completely just a oneshot this isn't what I think entirely happened)

word count ; 1.1k

masterlist

You had died at the hands of Bridget, now the Queen of Hearts, a tyrant.

She took control of Wonderland, and nearly all of what what would eventually become Auradon.

Bridget's happy-go-lucky personality and princess pink aesthetic had mutated. She'd turned only into the Queen of Hearts, a woman barely even out of her teenage years, angry and cruel, her signature pink becoming red. Everything red. No more happiness or joy. She wouldn't be the laughing stock now.

She beheaded you just as quickly as she'd gotten her hands on you. Her year-long reign above Wonderland commanding her Queen.

Your friends had gone into hiding, now realizing what they'd created. A tyrant, a murderous monster.

But, she'd forgotten that you were immortal, among many things.

Yes, you were essentially dead for days, your friends having been carrying around your body, waiting and waiting for you to snap back to reality. Maleficent had stitched your head back to your body, knowing your regeneration took a hell of a long time.

Immortality was like Klaus Hargreeves, something you hadn't mastered. You had to walk the terrains of whatever middle world existed between Heaven and Hell, the Devil and God themselves rejecting you for all eternity.

Outside Merlin's Academy rained soldiers from maroon clouds.

They lay dead flowers for the torn apart, you, at your feet, knowing one of these days you'd wake up. One of them you would. They'd just have to hope. You could end this.

Maleficent stands before you, spellbook in hand. Hook, Morgie, Uliana and Hades stand behind her, watching closely.

"Let it rain until it floods, let the sun breathe life once more, reborn. Dead flowers for the torn apart, laid at the grave to heal a broken heart"

The group stands silent, waiting for anything to happen. Then, the stitches melt into your skin, fusing your body together. You gasp, awakening suddenly, choking up blood and air. James rushes to your aid, hand on your shoulder, trying to help you breathe.

Maleficent shuts her book, stuffing it in her bag.

As you regain your voice, thankfully rather quickly, you look up at your friends.

"How long was I dead?"

Hades looks across the other's faces before answering. "Over a month."

Your jaw slacks, looking to the others for confirmation, which you receive. You'd never been dead that long. But then again, you'd never been beheaded. It'd only felt like an hour or two for your soul.

"You know who did this to you, right?" Uliana asks you.

You nod.

"Together, we can force her back down into Wonderland. We can not let her take over everything."

"Give me a few days. That sounded cringe as fuck" You groan, cracking your bones. "Plus, the magic doesn't work if I'm still practically dead"

"I've got frozen waffles-"

"Get a toaster. And a couple more boxes of those"

"On it!"

"Couldn't you just rewrite the laws of the universe or something?"

You sigh, "It doesn't work like that. If I do that, it'll screw us all over, not just Bridget. If you want me to laser her head off or something, I can, but I'm not gonna get myself killed again or any of you for that matter."

James softly smiles beside you, his eyes locked to the ground. "You can shapeshift, right?"

You nod. "Must I go over everything I can do? I'm not a master at anything, but..."

James nods.

"Uhm..." You count on your fingers as you list your abilities. "Regeneration, takes a long time when it's major. Reality warping, telekinesis, strength, dream manipulation, durability, immortality, time manipulation, range, speed, duplication, invisibility, intelligence, laser eyes, omnipresence, shapeshifting, soul removal, and stamina."

Your friends share awkward stares, slowly looking back at you.

"Look," You continue. "I doubt I'm the first person she wants to see. I tortured her the most out of all of us, I practically killed her over and over again for enjoyment, which is kind of sick, but it's funny"

Hades blinks. "Not very funny now that she's trying to take over the world"

Maleficent slaps his arm, hushing him.

"Anyways," you continue. "This is my battle. I'm not letting you guys die, nor am I sitting back to watch it happen. This is between me and her. I will cut her head off over and over until the end of time if I have to."

James shares a look with you, quickly placing himself on board with whatever your plan would be. Uliana, Morgie, Maleficent, and Hades decide to listen to you, not wanting to die. They retreat to their hideout in the academy, wishing you luck.

You turn back to look at James, silently questioning why he was still here.

"Do you have a plan?" He asks.

You shrug. "Go with the flow, I guess"

He nods slowly. "Where are we going?"

"Closer to Wonderland, I guess. I'd expect her to be locked up in her ugly castle"

"Wait, couldn't you reverse time-"

"I'd reverse it back to the day you were born and kill you before you got to exist if I tried."

Over the past few days, Hook had one hundred percent grown more infatuated with you. He already had been before, hypnotized by your power and personality. He wished he could have you.

Realistically, it would never happen. You were trillions of years old, stuck inside a teenage body.

You sit beside a fire, warming your hands, the pirate at your side.

"Why did you stay with me?" You ask out of the blue. "You could die"

He shrugs. "I'd willingly die by your side if it meant I'd be helping you. I'd do anything for you"

You furrow your eyebrows. "You sound like your brain became mush under a love spell"

He chuckles. "No. I'm infatuated with you. Really. Might as well know before I probably die"

"Huh?"

"You're actually so smart, and powerful, and sadistic, but it's so likable. Something draws me to you, more than any treasure could. Like, I genuinely see the stars in your eyes like they're every memory you've ever had. You're literally a God and I'm just some pirate"

"You're not just some pirate, you're the captain of the seas. That's a hard accomplishment" You reply. "Give yourself some credit"

He sighs. "I need you. I need you to not die to take Bridget down. So don't. She doesn't even have any serious magic, she has strength and no morality, which... you do too, but my point is, don't let her properly kill you again. Because if this ever ends, I want to spend every moment with you until I die"

You blink, slightly surprised at his ramblings.

"I couldn't live a few decades with you to live trillions more without you, James." You whisper, gaze locked onto the flame in front of you.

"That's fine," he replies.

You look to him, knowing he wasn't finished talking. He always had another word to say.

"Just please don't leave me. If you die again, I can't save you this time."

[thezombieprostitute]

Thoughts on sleepy prompt 33 with Lloyd? Not soft Lloyd, not dark Lloyd, just like, decent equal partner Lloyd?

…and possibly 12, too, bc that’s just so him

Lloyd's Soulmate - Drabble

"decent equal partner Lloyd"... I'm gonna have to channel @eulalielatibule 's Suburban Dad Sunday Lloyd for this because she's the best at writing this kind of Lloyd. That being said, I'm gonna go ahead and use my Soulmate Lloyd, but they've definitely settled in together.

A/N: this was mostly written on my phone!

Ask based on this.

33. “Look me in the eyes and tell me what time you went to bed last night.  Or if you went to bed, for that matter.”

12. “No offense, but you look like you haven’t slept in days.”

It's been almost a year since your soulmate, Lloyd, kidnapped you. The first few weeks were quite the learning experience for the two of you. It was a lot of tit-for-tat learning how to live with someone like Lloyd but the two of you actually made it work.

Go figure, Lloyd was an absolute softy for positive reinforcement which you were happy to give when he started respecting your boundaries and needs. The power dynamics were always in flux but both of you seemed to thrive on that. Arguing over what to watch was just foreplay.

Lately, though, you hadn't had the energy for arguing. You would give in to Lloyd a lot easier, which had him paranoid about retribution. Maybe it was depression? You were doing a lot more sleeping and eating. The latter was definitely affecting your figure but, thankfully, Lloyd didn't seem to care other than fully enjoying your bigger breasts.

Lloyd came back from a mission and found you groggily eating some ice cream on the couch.

"No offense, but you look like you haven’t slept in days," he says.

"No offense, but you like you need a shave," you snap back.

"If you really, truly want me to shave the clit tickler you beg to ride every night, I will," he threatens. "But I don't think you really want that."

"Yeah, you're right," you sigh. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm just always tired and hungry and my clothes aren't fitting anymore. Maybe I need a workout program or something."

Lloyd considers for a few moments before going to his phone.

"What are you doing," you ask.

"Checking the period tracker," he replies.

"You've been tracking my periods??"

"Well one of us has to! You have no idea how many headaches I've spared us both by making sure I know when to restock the chocolate."

You cross your arms and pout on the couch while he goes back to his phone.

"Shit," he mutters. You look up at him, eyebrow arched. He takes a deep breath, "you're late. And not just a few days late."

Your eyes widen, "shit, shit, shit! I need a test! Now!" You try to get off the couch but Lloyd gestures you to stay seated.

"I'm getting someone to pick some up right now," he soothes. "And, just to be certain, I'm getting you an appointment with Dr. Beck, okay?" He sits next to you and you immediately cuddle up to him, holding his arm in a hug.

"In the meantime," he smirks, "another way to test is to see if you taste differently."

"Lloyd, this is serious," you gently smack his arm.

"And I'm being serious," he tells you as gently pushes you onto your back. You grab him and pull him into a kiss, needing the comfort of his weight on top of you as your brain was frazzled trying to figure everything out. Maybe a good orgasm really would help, and Lloyd was damn good at giving you those.

Two positive pregnancy tests later you're now waiting on the Doctor's office to confirm or deny the results. You feel like you've been in a state of shock since the first positive test. Thankfully Lloyd has been doing the heavy work and the thinking. Making sure you're getting the medical checks you need, making sure you eat.

"We really should talk," you tell him over dinner.

"Absolutely, Sweetheart."

"Do you want the baby?"

"It'll be an adjustment," he admits. "But so were you. And I haven't been happier since I got you."

You chuckle at that. "But a baby? So soon?"

"I've got the means to take care of you both. You won't have to worry about a thing."

You put a hand over your stomach, "promise you'll treat them even better than you treat yourself?"

"I promise," he says without hesitation.

"Okay," you nod. "Then, when the doctor gives us confirmation, we'll go into full parent mode. Okay?"

"Of course."

A few days after the confirmation from the doctor you're starting to feel better. Getting proper nutrition, knowing what's going on, and not getting angry at yourself for your clothes not fitting were all very good for your mental health. You've even been getting better sleep.

Unlike Lloyd. You woke up from an actually good night's sleep to find Lloyd on his computer looking like he hadn't slept since he fucked you into a coma last night.

"Lloyd," you call, getting his attention. "When was the last time you slept?"

"I've been sleeping here and there. I'm fine." He waves you off.

You spin his chair so that he's facing you, "Look me in the eyes and tell me what time you went to bed last night.  Or if you went to bed, for that matter."

"If you're telling me you don't remember what we did in bed last night I'm running you to the emergency room, Sunshine."

"You know what I mean, Lloyd."

"I'm doing research. I've never been a parent before so I want to make sure to get some intel."

"You've got months to prepare. You don't have to push yourself this much this early." You stand up and cross your arms but that's when you see what's on Lloyd's screen. "Have you been buying baby clothes?"

"No! I've been getting ideas for my tailor! No way is our baby going to wear anything cheap!"

You laugh for the first time in weeks. A deep, big belly laugh. Lloyd is happy to hear it but also confused about what's so funny. You end up laughing so hard you have to sit on his lap as he holds you.

Finally catching your breath you tell him, "you really never do things half-assed, do you?"

Lloyd chuckles, "with an ass like mine? No way."

Tagging @alicedopey and @icefrozendeadlyqueen because I promised I would.

[cuttergauthier]

Secret boyfriend

female Smith reader x Ryan Leonard

Warning: injury, soft Ryan, fluff 

word count: 1.3k

let me know what you guys think🤍

let me know if you guys want me to do an insta edit of them soft launching their relationship!

I love Boston College, the only thing that sucks is doing homework, studying and just like home I hate when it rains and I have to walk. We are currently in the middle of October, and we are having a rainstorm. I've been here since the end of August and it hasn't rained this much.

Usually my brother would come and drive me to my dorm room since we both live in the same building but he was currently out in the city with two of his teammates Drew and Gabe, since they wanted to go see the bruins play in their home opener and they decided to spend the night since all 3 of them only had late classes tomorrow along with a night practice.

I didn’t bring an umbrella and even though it was raining pretty bad, a lot of students were making a run for it either back to their cars or dorms.

I pulled the hood of my hoodie over my head and started walking fast to my dorm.

I was almost there when another student ran right into me making my fall on my knees on the sidewalk.

I grunted my knee hurt like a bitch. The student just yelled sorry and continued to run. He didn't even ask if I needed any help.

I pulled myself up and looked at my knee. It was bleeding. I groaned and started limping the rest of the way since it hurt too much.

Once i got to the building I opened the door and made my way up those steps and to my room. I am thankfully living in a single dorm room and it also has a small bathroom, i tend to stay up late to study sometimes, so being alone means I never have to worry about keeping my roommate up with the lights.

I unlocked my room and walked in, I dropped my bag on the bed and made my way to the bathroom to see if I had anything to clean my knee. I couldn’t find anything. I looked at myself in the mirror, I was soaking wet. I decided to take a quick shower and I could ask someone if they had anything to help me clean my knee after.

I went to my dresser and grabbed my bc hoodie and a pair of black gym shorts before making my way back to the bathroom to shower.

Once I was done my knee still stings. I got dressed and put on some shoes and made my way to the dorm next to mine. I knocked on the door and Jenna answered she’s the first person i met when i moved here, she’s really sweet.

“Hey Y/n, everything okay?” She asked

“Yeah, sorry but would you have anything to clean wounds?” I ask

She pouted and shocked her head.

“No i don’t i’m sorry”

I smile weakly.

“All good, don’t worry about it”

I made my way back to my dorm room and texted my brother, he’s a hockey player so I hoped he might have something in his room. He gave me a key when we first got to bc in case of an emergency so I could still get in.

Me

Hey, do you by any chance have anything to clean wounds in your room?

Will

Yeah, I should have something in the bathroom if not Ryan probably does. Everything okay?

Me

Yeah, I tripped in the rain earlier. Now my knee is bleeding but I don't have anything to clean it with. Then i remembered that you gave me a key incase of emergency & you’re a hockey player so i figured you might have something!😂

Will

True, go check Ryan should be there! Just tell him what happened and he’ll help you!

Me

Thanks, I love you! Have fun at the game ❤️

Will

Love you too & we will❤️

I made my way to my brother and Ryan’s room & hoped they did have some stuff. My knee is really bothering me. I didn’t really want Ryan to know, but he would have found out eventually.

I’ve known Ryan for a few years, since the untdp days, he and my brother were teammates. We started dating a month before the NHL draft but we wanted to keep it on the down low to make sure we would work out since he and my brother are teammates but also best friends, we didn’t want to make it awkward. Will still doesn’t know only both of our parents do, I’m surprised Will hasn’t figured it out yet.

Once I got there I knocked on the door. A few seconds later Ryan opened up. He looked good, he was wearing some sweatpants and his untdp hoodie.

“Hey, did you forget that your brother went to the Bruins game? Or are you here to hang out with your amazing boyfriend” He asked, confused as to why I was there, since I told him I wanted to study tonight.

“No um, Will said you might have stuff to clean wounds, so i came by to check” i said nervously.

“We probably do, come in.” He said. I walked in beside him and followed him to the bathroom.

“Did you hurt yourself?” He asked, concerned.

“It was raining pretty bad when I got out of class and I had to walk back here, so I was trying to rush and then some student ran right into me, and I ended up falling down, scraping my knee,” I said.

“You should have called me, I would have come by to pick you up” he said, giving me a quick forehead kiss before He took the stuff out of the cabinet and set it down before looking back at me.

“Come here, let me take a look." He said, smiling softly. I jumped up and sat down on the counter without hurting my knee worse.

Ryan looked at my knee.

“It’s not too bad” he said, he grabbed some Cotton balls and put some rubbing alcohol on.

“This is probably going to sting,” he said before cleaning my knee with it.

I bit my lip and turned around so he would see that I had tears in my eyes. I wasn’t as tough as my brother or the rest of them.

Once he was done he put on a bandaid.

“They're all done,” he said softly.

I looked up at him to see he was already looking at me. He gave me a quick kiss on the lips.

“Thank you, i could have done it myself” i said smiling softly

“I saw how you turned your head so i wouldn’t see the tears in your eyes yn, it was probably better i did it since it probably would have taken you longer” he said and i looked at him embarrassed.

“Right, um sorry” I said awkwardly, I hate that I embarrassed myself in front of him.

“Hey you don’t need to be embarrassed about that, it’s just you and I here, I'm not going to make fun of you, I love you too much” he said smiling.

“Thanks Ry, I love you too,” I said smiling back.

He moved away so I could get down from the counter. He put the stuff away and we went back to the room.

“I was just about to put on a movie, do you want to stay a while?” He asked

“Sounds good to me, I don't feel like studying anymore” I said smiling. He chuckled.

He laid down on his bed and pulled me down with him. He pulled me closer to him and wrapped his arm around my waist. He kissed the back of my head and turned on a movie.

A few minutes later I was trying to keep my eyes open but I was losing, it didn’t take long for Ryan to notice. His thumb rubs soft circles on my waist.

“Go to sleep beautiful, i’ll be here when you wake up” he whispered.

“Love you” i whispered softly

“Love you too beautiful” he placed a soft kiss behind my ear, a few seconds later i fell asleep.