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luvsupa · 3 months ago

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001 | THE GARDEN

tags: trueform!sukuna x servant!fem reader, angst, smut(ish), pet names, lots of tension, teasing, mentions of death, mdni.

w.c: 3.9k (damn)

a/n: sorry for not posting in a whilee💔💔 I’ve been so sick and still am 🤧 😓 but this is req from this ask! (I will be making multiple parts to this i was writing a lil too much 😟)

+ likes and reblogs are appreciated!

part 2!

“sukuna-sama expects his dinner,” one of sukuna’s subordinates announces, pushing open the heavy wooden door to the kitchen. you and several other servants are already hard at work preparing the meal.

everyone tenses at the reminder, knowing that sukuna’s patience is thin. this is your first time preparing his dinner—usually, you’re assigned to gardening or cleaning. the sight before you is almost too much: bones, flesh, and organs stacked on the plate, creating a grotesque pile. the stench of death fills the air, making your stomach churn as you try not to gag.

as the meal is finished, you grab the edges of the heavy plate, bracing yourself for the weight of the revolting flesh.

“you’re not worthy to deliver the king’s food,” yorozu sneers, snatching the plate from your hands with a flick of her wrist. “you might upset him and end up as his next meal,” she adds, carrying the plate effortlessly while laughing as she exits. her mocking tone stings, and you can’t help but think of her with contempt as you and the other servants clean up.

bitch.

unable to bear the stench any longer, you leave the kitchen early. the other servants understand and let you go, knowing the smell has become too much for you. as you walk down the dimly lit hallway, you look up at the open ceiling, where stars shine faintly against the night sky. an eerie wind howls through the corridor, its sound both creepy and mesmerizing.

you glance towards the servant quarters but are drawn to the door leading to the garden. it feels like something is beckoning you, so you decide to take a detour. opening the door, you’re greeted by the moonlit garden—a stark contrast to the darkness inside. the flowers and fruit glow vibrantly under the moonlight, and the trees sway with the force of the wind.

walking deeper into the garden, you stop on the wooden bridge over the koi pond. you peer into the water, watching the koi fish below. as you look closer, your reflection shimmers in the rippling water. the fish suddenly dart away, disappearing in an instant. your confusion grows as you focus on your reflection and see four red orbs glowing ominously behind you.

frozen in place, fear grips you tightly. your heart pounds wildly, and you’re paralyzed by the chilling presence that seems to lurk just out of sight. your mind races, but you remain utterly silent and immobile, trapped by the eerie, haunting feeling that you are being watched.

you stand there frozen, the chill of fear gripping your body as your heart pounds furiously. you’re paralyzed by terror, unable to make a sound, not even a whisper.

“awh, i wish to get more of a reaction out of you,” the unknown voice murmurs darkly. slowly, you turn to see an extremely tall man with an array of unsettling features. the sight nearly makes you faint. the king.

“my lord,” you stammer, bowing deeply in respect. he chuckles at your rapid attempt to regain composure.

“it’s very easy to get into your head,” he observes, scanning your trembling form. “is there nothing up here?” he laughs, knocking your head playfully. you wince at his touch and rub your head, frowning at his mockery.

“there is,” you retort, turning your gaze away from him. you’re not trying to be disrespectful, but his subtle insult stings.

your heart still races as you focus on the rippling water beneath the bridge. sukuna towers over you, his presence as oppressive as the dark night sky. the garden around you is shrouded in shadows, illuminated only by the faint glow of the moon and the shimmering koi fish gliding silently beneath the water’s surface. the air is eerily quiet, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of insects.

“so, what brings you to my garden, little one?” sukuna’s voice slices through the silence, smooth but laced with a sharp edge. you turn to look at him; this time, he’s also peering down at the fish.

you hesitate, unsure of what to say. the truth is, you hadn’t meant to end up here—you were simply drawn in by some inexplicable force. but could you really admit that to him? that you felt something calling you?

“i… needed some fresh air, sukuna-sama,” you finally reply, your voice barely a whisper. it’s a weak excuse, but it’s all you can muster.

he chuckles darkly, the sound low and rumbling, as if he can see right through your flimsy explanation. “fresh air? after dealing with my dinner? you must have a stronger stomach than i thought,” he teases, his tone carrying a hint of disbelief. he steps closer, the wooden bridge creaking under his weight. “or maybe you’re just running away from something?”

you stiffen, his words cutting close to home. he’s right, of course. you’re running—from the stench of death, from the sight of flesh and bone, from the reality of serving someone like sukuna. but admitting that feels like exposing your most vulnerable self, and you’re not ready for that.

“no, my lord,” you say, shaking your head. “i just needed a moment to clear my thoughts.”

sukuna hums, clearly unimpressed by your response. he circles around you, his movements slow and deliberate, like a predator sizing up its prey. you can feel his gaze lingering on you, making you hyper-aware of every breath you take, every inch of space between you.

“clear your thoughts, huh?” he muses, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “what could a little servant like you possibly have to think about?” his tone is mocking, almost condescending, yet there’s a genuine curiosity in it.

you swallow hard, feeling the weight of his words pressing down on you. what could you say that wouldn’t sound trivial to a man like him? you’re just a servant—your worries are insignificant compared to his vast existence. but something about his question—and the way he seems to revel in your discomfort—makes you want to push back, just a little.

“i think about a lot of things, my lord,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “like the stars, or the way the wind feels at night. or the flowers in the garden.” you pause, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. “even… even what it must be like to be someone like you.”

the last part slips out before you can stop yourself, and you immediately regret it. your heart skips a beat as you brace for his reaction, fearing you’ve crossed some invisible line. but to your surprise, sukuna doesn’t lash out. instead, he halts, staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“someone like me?” he echoes, his brow arching with a mix of curiosity and disdain. “and what do you imagine it’s like, little one? to be someone like me?”

you hesitate, unsure how to respond. you hadn’t really thought it through—your words had just spilled out in the heat of the moment. but now that he’s asking, you can’t back down.

“i imagine it’s lonely,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “to have so much power, but no one who truly understands you. no one who dares to stand by your side, except out of fear.”

the garden falls into silence, the weight of your words hanging heavily in the air. you can feel sukuna’s gaze boring into you, but you don’t dare meet it. your heart races, fearing you’ve gone too far.

then, sukuna does something unexpected—he laughs, a low, dark laugh that sends shivers down your spine. “lonely?” he repeats, as if the concept is foreign to him. “you think i’m lonely?”

he leans in closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your skin. “let me tell you something, little servant,” he murmurs, his voice soft but laden with menace. “i don’t need anyone to stand by my side. i don’t need understanding or companionship. all i need is power, and the fear it brings. that’s what sustains me.”

his words are harsh, but there’s something in his tone—a hint of something deeper, something he’s not willing to admit. you feel a pang of sadness, realizing that beneath all that power, there’s a void he refuses to fill.

“you should be careful, doll,” he says, his voice low and warning. “curiosity can be dangerous. especially when it comes to me.”

with that, he straightens up, turning to leave. but before he can take a step, he pauses, glancing back at you with a smirk. “perhaps i’ll visit you again. after all, i find your little thoughts quite entertaining.”

your breath catches as you watch him disappear into the shadows, leaving you alone in the garden once more. the night is still, the stars shining brightly overhead, but the fear that had gripped you earlier has lessened, replaced by something else—something you can’t quite put into words.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *-

the next evening, you enter the shared servant quarters with a basket of clothes, overhearing yorozu and your other roommates gossiping about what happened in sukuna’s chambers. you pretend not to listen as you place the basket on the bed and start folding the clothes, trying to catch snippets of their conversation.

“he’s a maniac,” yorozu boasts loudly, “he even made love to me until sunrise—oh, how incredible it felt.”

you raise your brows at her blatant lie. after your encounter with sukuna, you had carefully snuck into the room to find yorozu and the others fast asleep.

what a liar.

the girls listening to yorozu gasp in awe, pleading for more details about her so-called night with the king. their excitement fades, however, as the door swings open, and uraume enters. the ladies quickly notice their presence and bow in respect.

“sukuna-sama has requested you to give him his bath,” uraume announces, looking directly at you. you glance around, wondering if uraume might have mistaken you for another servant.

“me?” you ask, pointing at yourself in confusion. the other servants exchange glances of barely concealed disgust. uraume nods, and they take their leave, closing the door behind them and leaving you in an awkward silence.

you smile to yourself as you hear yorozu’s incredulous question about why you’re the one chosen to assist with sukuna’s bath. you’re not a high-ranking servant, let alone someone who should be in his presence for more than a minute, much less during a bath.

discarding the basket of clothes, you rush out of the room, a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation bubbling inside you about what might unfold between you and sukuna.

the walk to sukuna’s chambers nearly left you breathless, so secluded is his room from the rest of his vast estate. the wooden double doors, adorned with menacing skulls, creak open as uraume gestures for you to enter. they guide you past the threshold and direct you towards the private pool area, marked as the exit.

as you step into his room, you’re struck by its enormity. it’s so grand that it seems like a small residence in itself, complete with its own living area, kitchen, and even a staircase leading to what you assume must be his private quarters. the room boasts a massive balcony overlooking the villages below, offering a breathtaking view. to one side, a door leads to his expansive garden.

fear courses through you as you sense his overwhelming presence grow stronger. your gaze is drawn irresistibly to the garden door, and something compels you forward. you push the door open and step into the garden, which is bathed in the soft glow of moonlight.

there, in the center of the garden, is a large, dark pool. steam rises from the bubbling water, adding an ethereal quality to the scene.

and there he is.

sukuna sits in the pool, his eyes closed. his two arms rest casually on the edge, while the other two are submerged beneath the surface. his chest, covered in ancient tattoos, glistens with water droplets under the moonlight. the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest with each breath is the only movement in the otherwise still night.

“there you are, my little one.”

you stood there, swallowing hard as he opened his eyes to meet yours. his hand motioned for you to come closer, and you obeyed, lowering yourself to your knees beside him.

“something disturbing you?” he asked, feigning concern as he searched your eyes for a reason. “nothing, my lord. I’m just surprised you requested me instead of yorozu.”

a smirk played on his lips as his fingers lightly brushed the fabric of your kimono. “join me,” he said, his tone laced with a provocative edge. your eyes widened at the request, and you stumbled over your words, unable to form a coherent response. all you could hear were the faint pops of bubbles in the pool.

“unless you’d prefer I call for yorozu,” he added, a hint of amusement in his voice that sparked a pang of jealousy in you.

with a deep breath, you carefully stood up, untying your kimono and letting it pool around your feet as sukuna’s gaze remained fixed on your bare figure. he bit his lip, watching as you hesitantly stepped into the steaming water. the heat was intense, but you pushed through, your entire body soon engulfed by the water. sukuna’s arms, hidden beneath the surface, wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer until you were resting on his lap. you flinched at the unexpected contact.

you could feel his cocks.

he chuckled at your reaction, his laughter carrying a hint of cruel amusement. “does her name strike a nerve?” he taunted as you glanced around, avoiding his gaze while taking in the garden’s beauty. without warning, he grabs your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I don’t like being ignored, woman.”

“it doesn’t seem fair that you have sexual relations with her and then summon me. you’re only going to make the other servants despise me,” you confessed, your voice trembling. his expression was unreadable, leaving you unsure whether he was angry or merely contemplating your words.

your pulse quickens as sukuna’s intense gaze pins you in place, his four crimson eyes gleaming with dark amusement. his massive form looms over you, every inch of his heavily tattooed body radiating power and menace. the steam swirling around you thickens the air, and the bubbling water at your waist feels like it’s vibrating with the tension between you.

“jealousy doesn’t suit you,” sukuna murmurs, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. his tone is laced with condescension, as if daring you to challenge him. one of his hands tightens its grip on your waist, while another trails a sharp claw along the side of your neck, dangerously close to your pulse.

you swallow hard, trying to maintain composure, but your voice betrays you with a slight tremor. “i’m not jealous,” you lie, even as your heart races. “i just don’t understand why you would entertain her lies.”

sukuna’s lips curl into a cruel smirk, his sharp teeth glinting in the dim light. “entertain her lies?” he echoes mockingly, leaning in so close that his breath fans across your face. “you think i care about what that pathetic woman says? the only reason i acknowledge her existence is to see you squirm.”

he moves one of his lower arms to grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him. his eyes bore into yours, and the sheer intensity of his gaze makes your knees feel weak. “you’re nothing but a fool to her,” he continues, his voice dripping with venom. “a pawn in her petty games. but you… you’re mine.”

your breath hitches as his words send a jolt of heat through your body, leaving you torn between the urge to slap him and an even stronger, confusing desire. the steam rises thicker around you, wrapping you both in a cocoon of suffocating heat, and the bubbling water feels like it’s boiling against your skin.

“i’m not a toy,” you manage to say, though the words sound weak even to your own ears. sukuna’s laugh is low and menacing, and you feel his upper arms encircle you, pulling you closer to his enormous chest, his wet skin slick and warm against yours.

“oh, but you are,” he purrs, his voice both mocking and seductive. “my toy. my plaything. and i’ll do with you whatever i please.”

the heat of the water and the intensity of his gaze create a pressure that feels almost unbearable. his four crimson eyes lock onto yours with a predatory gleam, while his massive, tattooed form looms over you. the steam from the bubbling pool rises in thick clouds, obscuring everything but the two of you, wrapping you in a suffocating cocoon of heat and desire.

sukuna’s hands continue their torturous exploration. his lower arms grip your waist, holding you flush against him. his touch is deliberate, almost maddeningly slow, as his fingers trail lightly along your sensitive slit, spreading your folds making you whimper at his touch. every brush of his fingertips makes you shiver, your body reacting instinctively to the teasing pressure.

“you feel that?” sukuna growls, his voice rough with dark pleasure. his fingertips linger at your entrance, grazing the sensitive area with tantalizing slowness. “every inch of you is responding to me. don’t try to deny it.”

the water around you bubbles more furiously, the heat intensifying as sukuna’s touch grows bolder. your breath hitches with every pass of his fingers, your hips slowly grinding on his fingers for something more. the tension between you thickening until it feels like it’s pressing down on you from all sides. the steam is stifling, making it hard to think, and the heat of the water feels almost like a physical presence, amplifying the pressure of sukuna’s touch.

you try to maintain your composure, but your voice betrays you, trembling with barely contained desire. “i’m not yours,” you manage to say, though the words sound weak against the backdrop of his dark amusement.

sukuna’s lips curl into a cruel smile, his sharp teeth flashing in the dim light. “oh, but you are,” he murmurs, his voice both mocking and seductive. “and deep down, you know it. you can’t hide from what you want.”

his lower arms grip your hips firmly, pulling you snugly against him. you gasp as his fingertips graze your clit with a teasing touch, sending a shiver of electric pleasure through your body.

“my precious brat,” sukuna growls, his fingers continuing their teasing caress, barely making contact but just enough to drive you wild with anticipation. the sensation is maddening, the heat of his touch against your sensitive skin making it hard to focus on anything but the overwhelming need building within you.

you try to maintain control, but your breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps. “’m not yours,” you repeat, shutting your eyes, hoping he would do something.

sukuna’s eyes glint with cruel satisfaction as he increases the pressure slightly, his fingers brushing over your clit with a teasing rhythm. the dizziness increases as the pressure of his touch and the intensity of his gaze combine.

sukuna smirks as he brings his hand from the water to pinch your neglected breasts, pulling and teasing your nipples until you gasp loudly. simultaneously, his fingers rub circles on your poor clit with a harsh rhythm, each touch sending sharp jolts of pleasure through your body. the sensations blend together, leaving you dizzy and disoriented, as if you’re drunk off his touch.

the steam seems to wrap around you tighter, making it hard to think clearly. sukuna’s touch is relentless, the teasing strokes sending waves of heat through your body. your mind is spinning, caught between the heat of the water, the pressure of his touch, and the oppressive weight of his presence.

his fingers trace along the edges of your entrance with agonizing slowness, the touch making your body quiver with anticipation your breasts aching at the teasing. sukuna’s hands grip you tighter, pulling you closer, and the sensation of his body against yours only adds to the unbearable pressure.

“say it,” he commands, his voice rough and demanding. “tell me you’re mine.”

the words catch in your throat, the intensity of the moment making it almost impossible to speak. the steam, the heat, the pressure of sukuna’s touch—all of it overwhelms you. the tips of his fingers push into your hole, your body instinctively wanting more. the tension breaks, and the words slip from your lips, barely audible over the sound of the bubbling water.

“f-fuck yours- ‘m yours ,” you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of the admission. he widely smirks as you gave in, knowing that you’re his. the heat of the water, the intensity of sukuna’s touch, and the oppressive presence of his gaze converge, leaving you breathless and dizzy, completely trapped in his embrace.

⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *

the next morning, you and the other servants were summoned to the kitchen by the higher-ups. as you prepared, memories of your night with sukuna kept making you smile, his words-you’re mine- echoing in your mind. sukuna wanted you, and only you.

in the large, cobblestoned kitchen, you and the servants gathered around the wooden island table where uraume had called everyone. chatter and gossip filled the room as you stood with your friends, one of them clutching your arm nervously as everyone waited for uraume’s arrival.

the wooden doors creaked open as uraume and several guards filed in, immediately commanding attention. “good morning, everyone,” uraume said, silencing the room.

“sukuna-sama has been keeping an eye on a few of you while you worked,” uraume continued, causing a collective gulp of fear to ripple through the room. whispers of suspicion and dread filled the air, as many feared sukuna’s scrutiny meant trouble.

“and he is beyond pleased with one of your skills,” uraume added, and the room erupted in gasps and murmurs of relief. you heard whispers behind you—could it be me? it has to be me.

you couldn’t help but chuckle at their eagerness. most of the servants slacked off when uraume or sukuna’s subordinates weren’t around, but you always made sure to be diligent. you weren’t trying to be a suck-up; you were just keenly aware of the consequences of falling out of favor. after all, many had met grim fates.

was this about me? had the king of curses been watching? you think.

uraume walked closer to your side of the room, maintaining their usual emotionless demeanor. a few of the other servants' smiles faltered as uraume pushed through the crowd, making a beeline for you. their eyes were filled with a mix of envy and disbelief, and you straightened your posture with a slight bow, a wide, hopeful smile spreading across your face.

“i’m very thankful for this—”

“move.”

you choked on your saliva, your face flushing with embarrassment as you froze, head down. the realization that you were not the one being recognized hit hard as uraume moved past you to the girl in the back. murmurs and chuckles spread through the room, and you could feel your cheeks burning with shame.

i just want to disappear.

uraume pulled one of the servants deemed ‘skilled’ to the front of the room. you slowly raised your head to see yorozu, standing there with a beaming smile, clearly thrilled.

“sukuna-sama is beyond satisfied with your skills and dedication,” uraume announced. “he has requested a personal dinner with yorozu.”

what?

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #sukuna jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x reader #sukuna angst #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jjk angst #ryoumen sukuna smut #true form sukuna #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

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aphel1on · 6 months ago

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the longer i look at this panel the more deranged i feel about it. this is environmental storytelling at its finest.

the eodio stand-in doll in particular makes me crazy. where did it come from? did thistle just pop into the village like "hey ungrateful wretches, one of you needs to make me a life-sized mannequin, For Reasons". did he make it himself? seems quite unlikely, yet the possibility haunts me. i mean, i guess there could've been one just lying around the dungeon somewhere. it's the act of replacement itself that really gets to me. (edit: it's been pointed out to me that the eodio doll also could have been left behind as part of delgal's escape plan. slightly different kind of madness but tbh, just as funny-sad to me if that happened and thistle went Ok, Guess That's Eodio Now.)

both the wives are there too. we know very little about them, which makes me tend to assume thistle wasn't all that close to them, but they're still included. when did they end up here? did he kick their souls out of their bodies at some point, or were they among those who left their bodies voluntarily to try and escape? when did yaad become an effective orphan, delgal an effective widower? women in the margins of the narrative, tell me your stories!

and the fact that they're surrounded with the living paintings, which thistle habitually wanders through to relive the past. this truly is his inner sanctum, his place of utmost comfort... and it may as well be a tomb.

that panel is so creepy when you first see it. just a sense of "ohh jeez, there's a lot to unpack there".

and actually, yeah, it remains creepy from pretty much any angle, but the more you think about it the more it's also tragic.

this is where many of thistle's happiest moments took place. everything he had in that picture is now gone. first he lost their warm regard, then one-by-one their bodies became hollow shells. before the end, none of the people here needed or enjoyed food anymore. the dinner table, as a center of both family life and nutrition, became obsolete.

a line from someone else's excellent post about thistle has stuck in my head ever since i read it: "to eat is to live, but to eat together is to be loved". to me, this is the sentiment and symbolism at the core of everything that happens in dungeon meshi.

it makes this bit all the sadder and more disturbing.

there's several things to note here:

thistle has gone from seated and eating with them as part of the family, to a lonely and ominous figure hovering over delgal's shoulder

eodio is conspicuously absent from view, and his body would have been a husk by now, but yaad says parents, which forces me to assume that they are sitting at the table with eodio's soulless body, hidden under yaad's speech bubble

they're not actually eating anything.

those plates are empty. you could assume that they've already finished eating, maybe, but yaad refers to it as sitting around the dinner table. in fact, he compares it to what he's currently doing; sitting at the dinner table watching the touden party eat, not eating anything himself.

it paints a pretty grim picture. for some time even after the fantasy had fallen apart, even after there was no need or desire to eat, they kept gathering around the dinner table. at that point, i'd guess only so as not to provoke thistle's wrath.

but even that last happened a long, long time ago.

this is a callback to what senshi said in the golden kingdom: the reason the people keep maintaining their fields and silverware and so forth is that they need to do so in order to stay sane.

paradoxically, the dinner table is the most striking evidence of thistle's insanity, and at the same time, it's the only anchor to sanity he has left.

he kept enforcing the ritual of dinner together long after it lost significance. when even that was impossible- because almost everyone's souls were gone- he kept their bodies at the table anyway. it's fine. it's fine! he's protected them, physically, just like he set out to. they're all still breathing. at a glance it looks like they could wake up and resume dinner at any moment. like this, it's easy to pretend.

isn't that what being a dungeon lord is, at the core of it? rejecting reality, staying in the prison of one's impossible desires. it's just one long game of pretend.

thistle did all this to protect his loved ones. no matter how obsessive and twisted he became in pursuit of that over the years, his core motivation never changed. this is all he has left of that dream: his loved ones' bodies gathered around the locus of their happiest memories together. like this, he can tell himself he's succeeded.

when eodio's body vanished with delgal's soul in it- when he couldn't even have that anymore... well.

i want to reach through the screen and shake him. no, they're not, thistle. THISTLE, NO, THEY'RE NOT! the doll of eodio is the closest thing to him in this panel, underlining the point. when that final illusion was shattered, he became completely unable to cope with reality.

therefore casually forgetting the creepy eodio doll isn't real.

thistle isn't stupid. eodio's body vanished at the same time as delgal's soul. shortly after, more adventurers came pouring in than ever before. deep down, he knows what happened. if he didn't, being confronted with the truth by mithrun wouldn't have made him panic so hard he summoned chimera falin to the first floor.

yet still...

he absolutely can't admit that to himself. he is clinging to the last scraps of the illusion with everything he has.

this is a dungeon lord at the end of desire. this is a lotus-eater machine left running long after its conclusion. this is mithrun lying listlessly in his bed, his replica lover having given up any pretense of being human. the illusion is all that's left. (an illusion is all it ever was.) thistle and the citizens of the golden kingdom- they're ghosts just as much as the ones who wander the dungeon floors. and if it weren't for thistle sealing the lion away, he would've been eaten by it long ago.

all of this encapsulated by that single panel of the dinner table.

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #thistle #delgal #yaad #eodio #meta #long post #aphelion.txt #dunmeshi #sorry. i am so incredibly not normal about any of it

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radsity · 1 year ago

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her new dress is so beautiful [image description: an illustration of Laudna, from Critical Role. She is standing against a backdrop of creepy trees. She is wearing her new dress, and Pâté is on her shoulder. Her Hound of Ill Omen is standing by her side, staring ominously towards the viewer. She looks creepy and confident and very sexy because she has a girlfriend. End ID]

#laudna #critical role #bells hells #art #fanart

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kamaluhkhan · 3 months ago

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LONG HOT SUMMER NIGHT

pairing: luke castellan x fem!poseidon!reader word count: 8.4k chapter summary: it's the summer solstice and olympus is throwing a party! thalia notices the tension between you and luke, poseidon gives you some relationship advice and you punch the god of desire in the face. warnings: angst! jealous reader. lots of drinking. complicated relationships. reader dealing with ptsd + survivor's guilt (post-titan war). mention of injuries + blood. creepy guy pushing reader to hook up. ending is a bit steamy but no actual smut. spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 also reader is in a band called the midnight sirens and is born on the summer solstice! author's note: thank you so much for all the love for part 1!! summer is almost over and this is very much a summer series BUT summer's not over yet !!! hope y'all enjoy this one too and thanks 4 reading 💙

part 1 | series masterlist

♪: long hot summer night by jimi hendrix

mail to:

Luke Castellan Camp Half-Blood, Half-Blood Hill 3.141 Farm Road Long Island, New York 11954

LUKE!

I’m sitting in my kitchen right now, watching Percy make us blue blueberry pancakes and hoping he doesn’t burn down my kitchen while doing so. I caved and agreed to take him to Disneyland while he’s here and breakfast was part of the deal, but I think I might regret it later.

We went surfing yesterday. It was Percy’s first time, but he was (unsurprisingly) amazing at it. I still can’t get over how beautiful the beaches are and the waves — gods, the waves are unreal. You’d seriously love it here. It’s like every day is summer. You have to come visit. PLEASE come visit!!!!

- [your initial]

P.S. The band and I are working on some new music, which means I won’t make it to camp again this summer. I’m sorry ;( Fingers crossed I’ll make it next year.

P.P.S. hi luke! happy to report that i did not burn down my sister’s kitchen. anyways, can’t wait to kick your ass in sword-fighting this summer. xoxo, percy

THREE YEARS LATER

the first time you visited olympus, you had been sent on a quest to retrieve zeus’ stolen lightning bolt, bringing luke and charles beckendorf along with you. you had missed the summer solstice deadline, but still tried to reason with the king of the gods when presenting the symbol of power, maybe calling him out once or twice along the way. before zeus could strike you down for your boldness, poseidon stepped in. the war between them was averted in fear of a much larger, looming threat; an ominous introduction for what was to come in the next chapter of your life.

another time, the gods debated whether or not they should kill you, some seeing you as a threat to their future. that was the day you accepted your destiny, not wanting your brother percy or your cousin nico to deal with the weight of the great prophecy.

your last visit to olympus was on your 18th birthday, after helping to defeat kronos and his army. you made the gods swear to stop neglecting their kids and to allow all demigods, regardless of whether their parent was an olympian or not, to have a home at camp half-blood; to treat their children as children rather than heroes as pawns in their twisted games.

needless to say, it’s quite strange, being back here under very, very different circumstances, where the gods invited camp half-blood’s senior counsellors and staff to join in their summer solstice festivities.

it’s not every day you’ll be invited to a party on olympus; you’re determined to have a good time, to have fun. there’s already an abundance of music, dancing, food, or alcohol, and the night is just getting started.

you’re happy to be there with new and old friends, but you’re ecstatic when you see that thalia grace is there, too.

“immortality looks good on you, t!” you compliment, raising your voice slightly over the music.

thalia preens, and you bask in her silver glow.

“bet you wish you took the gods up on their offer, huh,” she teases. then, her eyes widen. “oh - shit! it’s your birthday! happy birthday!”

thalia tackles you with another hug; even after all these years, she still smells like pine trees. she grabs two goblets of honeyed wine and hands one to you as you catch up. you eagerly gulp the sweet drink, until you’re reaching for another while listening to her stories about adventures she’d been on with the hunters of artemis.

about halfway through her story about fighting off a manticore during a snow storm, a nymph appears with a platter of the ripest of fruit – sweet plums and fresh figs, tantalising pomegranates, succulent grapes and crisp apples.

“oh my gods, this is the best apple i’ve had in my entire life!” thalia exclaims after indulging in a taste, herself giddy from a few goblets of wine. “where’s luke? he’s gotta try this — he’s always reminding us to eat more fruit. luke!”

you hadn’t kept track of luke, at least not on purpose. you assumed he’d been off partying with van or his siblings, and, probably, avoiding you. wherever he was, thalia calls his name twice more and, like a ghost, luke appears.

“i’m here, t.” luke’s voice is a deep, steady rumble floating above the music. his cheeks are slightly flushed, either from the heat or the drinks. likely both. “what’s up?”

“you need to try this.” thalia shoves the apple in his mouth before luke can respond.

luke takes a bite, and some juice drips down his chin. you, in a honey-soaked haze, think about running your tongue over to catch it, but he beats you to it, wiping it away with the back of his hand.

probably for the best.

“holy shit. yeah, it’s good.”

thalia, a sparkle in her eyes, urges you to try it as well. from across the makeshift triangle the three of you had formed, luke tosses the apple your way. you catch it effortlessly, and sink your teeth into it.

you’ve almost overwhelmed by the burst of flavor. the fruit is just the right amount of tart to balance out the sweetness, and it’s damn near the best crunch you’ve ever experienced.

“good is an understatement,” you say after another bite. a distant memory crosses your mind. “i wonder if these are the same ones we almost got killed by a hellhound for.”

thalia shakes her head, laughing in disbelief. “all because luke said we needed more vitamin c.”

“i was just looking out for us!” luke guffaws. “how was i supposed to know that persephone owned an apple orchard in connecticut?”

you pat his shoulder, the three of you smiling at the memory. “let’s call it an honest mistake.”

“well if annabeth had been with us by then, i’m sure that she wouldn’t have made that same honest mistake.”

“okay, but she’s the daughter of athena —”

you let luke and thalia slip back into their playful bickering as if no time has passed. you listen and continue eating that glorious apple, enjoying how the golden glow of your shared past fills whatever distance might have grown between the three of you.

somewhere down memory lane, luke’s amber eyes flick towards you.

“hey, you’ve got some….” without another word, luke suddenly reaches over to brush away a trail of juice with his thumb before sticking the finger in his mouth to savour the taste. he holds your gaze as he does so, and you feel a familiar kind of heat rush through your body — not from alcohol or summer sun, but from luke.

it’s such an intimate gesture that you almost forget that you’re at some extravagant party on mount olympus, where gods and half-bloods and a whole bunch of other mythological creatures are celebrating the start of summer by essentially getting drunk together, until thalia clears her throat.

“okay, well, seems like the two of you might want some alone time.”

luke’s cheeks grow more flushed than before, and his eyes widen as if realizing what he’d done.

“oh, we don’t need —”

“we’re not —”

you and luke both stumble over your words; thalia just smiles knowingly.

“i’m gonna go flirt with that nymph,” she announces, pointing across the grand marble pavilion.

“i thought — doesn’t artemis sort of frown upon that sort of thing?” you ask.

“she makes exceptions on holidays. besides, i’m her favourite. you guys have fun.” thalia winks at you and walks away.

you glance at luke and, gods, there’s so much history between you.

the time you jumped into an ocean full of sirens to save luke from drowning? you have a scar running down your forearm where one of them scratched you as you struggled to get luke towards the surface.

or when you took turns holding up the sky while on a quest to save lady artemis and defeat the titan atlas? it’s evident in the matching streaks of grey that you each have running through your hair. whenever you see your reflection in the mirror, you remember how you couldn’t save your cousin bianca di angelo earlier that day, and how nico has had to grow up without a sister because of a promise you broke.

how about when you, luke, and one of your best friends were sent on a mission to destroy the princess andromeda, the headquarters of kronos’ army? only the two of you survived, and sometimes you can still feel luke squeezing your hand pike he did during charles beckendorf’s burial shroud ceremony while you both cried.

or when luke took a sword between the ribs for you because he, somehow, knew the one spot the curse of achilles left you vulnerable? he can only slouch for so long before the bones there start to ache.

so, yeah. there’s way too much history, and so many tangled threads, and now really isn’t an ideal time to unravel it all.

“i’m gonna go find my dad,” you blurt out and disappear into the crowd with no real intention of finding your father.

the once sweet apple now tastes rotten on your tongue; you rid yourself of it in exchange for some more wine. you’re determined to have fun — no pain or heartache or grief.

you’ve all had enough of that for three lifetimes.

summer — age 14

“sorry your birthday was ruined.”

luke exhaled sharply when you pressed a disinfectant-soaked cloth to the wound on his leg.

“hold still,” was all you mumbled in response, brows knitted together as you wrapped the cut in gauze.

once you were done with his leg, you moved on to luke’s hands, burned by poisonous acid. the four of you had run into a hydra earlier that night. you managed to wound it enough so you could all get away, but not before a few injuries were sustained.

you were uncharacteristically quiet as you worked. you only met luke’s gaze to warn him before pouring some nectar on his wounds. you let luke hold your hand, tightly, as the liquid dripped through his fingers and down to yours, first right, then left. the pain was instant, seering almost as much as the hydra acid, but it was over quickly. the last thing you did was bandage each hand before getting up.

“i’m…i’m gonna check on thalia and annabeth. i’ll take first watch.”

luke caught your hand before you got away.

“wait. you’re bleeding.” he pointed to the cut on your brow. you had been so preoccupied in making sure everyone else was safe that you let crimson liquid drip down your face. it probably stung, too, based on your grimace.

luke wiped away the blood with his sleeve, used nectar to disinfect the wound, and dressed it with a fresh bandage, working silently as you did.

“it’s still your birthday,” luke finally said once he was done. “you get some rest; i’ll take first watch.”

you gave him a small, strained smile before checking on the others.

later that night, you stayed up with luke anyways.

seemingly out of nowhere, you handed him your portable cassette player. luke stared at it for a moment, unwilling to comprehend just what you were offering and, more importantly, why.

you and luke had grown accustomed to sharing things: flannels, socks, makeshift beds and scavenged food. but this —

it was your aunt’s.

you never met your mother, who’d left you as a baby, and of course, poseidon was too busy tending to his underwater kingdom to step in as a parent. your aunt raised you as her own. and then you lost her, too.

you kept her cassette player buried deep in your bag with some mixtapes she had made and ones you’d stolen throughout the years. when it wasn’t your turn to keep watch, luke would sometimes catch you with headphones on, looking up at the stars.

luke liked to think he knew you well; all those subtle elements that made you — the crack of your knuckles, the cadence of your voice, the slope of your nose, the dreams of your childhood. engraved in his own personhood. bones and all.

and, still: he didn’t know you, not entirely.

you’d only allowed luke to listen with you once, maybe twice. he’d never forget what it was like: knees pressed together and heads just as close to keep the wires from stretching too far; you gushing about the magic of jimi hendrix, recounting memories that echoed through gentle guitar riffs; luke yearning for one more song to play, for another a wistful smile of yours to appear. luke, wishing to linger in your private oasis a beat longer before you pushed him out again and closed the door behind him.

the one lock luke couldn’t crack: your grief, and how you carried on so buoyantly despite its weight.

well, there you were, presenting the key to luke as an offering. a sacrifice for something luke would never ask of you.

“this….” luke swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to look at you. he turned the device over in his bandaged hands, the metal smooth, though well-worn. “you can’t just —”

leave. you can’t just leave. you can’t just —

“hey.”

your hand over his, forcing him to stop spiralling and look at you.

right away, luke regretted it. a small sliver of him, however delusional, had hoped that you were joking.

you weren’t. behind you, there was an empty space where you had previously wedged your sleeping bag. your backpack was already strapped around your shoulders, fully packed.

“i need to leave, luke. we can’t stay together. it’s too dangerous.”

“you don’t need to —”

“there’s more of us, now,” you interrupted, pulling your hand away to rest on your thigh. “four demigods together isn’t ideal. we’ve been attracting more monsters. more deadly monsters.”

“that would happen, anyways. it always has whether it’s the four of us, the two of us, or….”

luke stopped his sentence short, not even wanting to give you the idea to go out on your own, even though you’d probably been thinking about leaving for some time.

you made reckless decisions sometimes, but this didn’t seem to be one of them.

“well, it’s happening more.” your voice was steady, too steady. luke imagined you rehearsing just what to say to counter the inevitable backlash.

luke shook his head. “i’d be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“you almost died because of me,” you clipped. you lifted a hand to touch the bruise on luke’s jaw, but let it drop just as quickly. “you know that children of the big three cause more trouble. maybe we managed it when it was the two of us, but now, there’s more to consider. a child of poseidon and a child of zeus, travelling together. it’s like we’re asking to be killed. it’s too dangerous.”

“that’s our life,” luke snapped. “you can’t just run from it.” from us.

you faltered, looking back to where annabeth and thalia were sleeping peacefully.

oh. he must have said that last part out loud, too.

“you know i’m right,” is all you said.

luke could only shake his head again. because, fine, you weren’t entirely wrong. it was more dangerous — but it was danger luke hoped you’d all face, together.

“i’ve made up my mind,” you added, an anchor in the sand.

“don’t leave.” luke’s words came out as a prayer. if he offered something, maybe you’d stay.

you paused to take a shaky breath. “this isn’t goodbye, luke. i swear to poseidon…fuck, i swear to all the gods that this isn’t goodbye.”

luke couldn’t speak. there were tears bubbling in his throat, threatening to spill.

“so, keep this for me,” you whispered, once again placing your hand on top of luke’s. his fingers gripped your cassette player tightly, like it was the only piece of driftwood leftover from a shipwreck, keeping him from sinking into the cold, dark nothing. “you’ll give it back when we see each other again.”

a promise.

“fine,” luke conceded, though he wanted to scream at you. he wanted to argue like little kids — petty, loud, meaningless, back and forth until tears streamed down cheeks and throats were raw.

but, you were leaving, one way or another. luke didn’t want this shared memory to be tainted if it might be your last.

“you have to take this, then. give it back when we see each other again.”

luke removed the chain from around his neck, the one that held the key to his childhood home. he placed it around yours, instead.

he didn’t need the key now, but his mother had given it to him when he was six. before he knew what it meant to be the son of hermes, god of thieves.

call him sentimental, but luke had kept it. just in case he ever got lost.

“if you’re ever back in connecticut, you have a home.”

“yeah, okay.” you smiled softly.

it fell just as quickly.

“take care of them,” you told him. “of yourself, too. i’ll see you again when it’s safe.”

luke didn’t ask when it would be safe, because the truth is that it might never be.

“because you want your cassette player back?” luke joked, instead trying to lighten the mood, to capture one last moment of brightness.

you laughed softly to not wake the others.

“yeah. that too.”

you pressed your forehead to his, something you hadn’t done since you were kids.

“i’ll see you again,” you repeated.

without another word, you got up and jogged away. luke shut his eyes, refusing to see you become nothing but a shadow.

(you looked back several times, but he couldn’t see through the darkness.)

now

call the gods out on their bullshit (you encourage it), but if they have one thing going for them, it’s that the olympians know how to throw a party.

the night grows darker, yet somehow becomes more lively. demeter and persephone had supplied a generous amount of fresh, decadent fruit, and dionysus an even more generous amount of wine. apollo starts a karaoke corner and you’re just tipsy enough to agree to sing a duet with him in order to break the ice. apparently, he’s a big midnight sirens fan and had seen your band when you headlined at glastonbury festival. you smile to yourself, imagining your bandmates’ faces if you told them that the god of music had watched you perform.

as you hand the microphone to a giggling dryad, the sound of your name washes over like gentle waves on a shore.

“if it isn’t my sweet, summer child!” your father brings you in for a hug and an ocean breeze engulfs you — salt and sand and sun.

“hi dad,” you exhale as you pull away.

you hadn’t seen each other in a while, but poseidon looks the same. he’s dressed in a turquoise hawaiian shirt and birkenstocks with a crown of seashells on his head. there’s a cocktail umbrella in his glass, a slice of pineapple wedged onto the rim. you’re about to ask him how he managed to secure a pina colada and where you might find one, too.

“that was quite the performance!” poseidon takes an eager sip of his drink, green eyes sparkling like sea glass in the sun. “i must tell you: your newest album is all the rage in atlantis. the nereids and merpeople can’t seem to get enough of it and, truthfully, i find myself playing it on repeat as well. you’re quite talented.”

you try not to let your shock slip through, instead smiling and asking how things are in his underwater kingdom, but you’re….touched at your father’s unexpected praise.

the gods aren’t perfect, and your father is no exception. they’re divine beings who have time to conceive children, but not to raise them. there’s a long history of them abandoning, mistreating, and manipulating their own offspring. of course, being the prophecy child, it became practically impossible for your father to ignore you; you’re sure that being dubbed the saviour of olympus gives him bragging rights with his immortal family. even with their sworn promise to change, it’s impossible not to resent the gods in some ways.

still, you feel comforted by your father's presence at times — when you catch the perfect wave on your surfboard, for example, or when you sit on your fire escape during a storm after a bad day. it’s been like that pretty much all your life: poseidon there in spirit, not in practice. despite everything, he’s watched over you, and percy, throughout the years.

and here poseidon is now, grinning at you like you’re his pride and joy.

“enough about aquatic politics.” he pats your shoulder enthusiastically after telling you about the struggles of keeping humans from overfishing. “i came over to wish you a happy birthday. and to give you this.”

poseidon reaches into the pocket of his shirt and hands you something you’d long thought gone: a leather cord with several clay beads and a silver key.

“i found it off the california coast,” he explains. “i kept meaning to get it to you, but i suppose time has a way of getting away from us, immortal or not.”

a warmth grows in your chest as you run your thumb over your old camp necklace, bright and full. it had fallen off one day when you’d gone surfing, and you assumed it was lost to the ocean. you'd been given a fresh leather cord when you arrived at camp earlier this summer, but it felt empty. hollow.

“thanks, dad.”

you smile at him as you put on the necklace; it feels like coming home. your father then asks you about your summer so far.

you tell him all about your life as of late, until you catch a glimpse of luke with van on a marble bench at the other end of the pavilion. van is sitting in luke’s lap, and they lean over to whisper something in his ear before kissing his cheek.

you freeze mid-way through your sentence.

sensing the shift in mood, poseidon frowns. he turns his head to follow your gaze.

“ah.” poseidon turns back to you and clears his throat. “now, i don’t mean to pry, but i saw you earlier with the castellan boy.”

you flush at the fact that your moment with luke was witnessed by your own father. “dad —”

“did you know in ancient greece, throwing someone an apple and having them catch it is considered a marriage proposal?”

“i’m pretty sure that was disproven,” you scoff.

poseidon raises an eyebrow at you, clearly amused. “which one of us was actually there, hm?” and though you roll your eyes, you can’t argue with that. “i just wanted to know if there was a wedding happening in the near future.”

you almost choke on the last remnants of your wine. “dad.”

“i’m kidding. i’m kidding! mr. castellan seems otherwise occupied.”

“yeah, it does seem that way,” you grumble.

poseidon puts a hand on your shoulder, firm but reassuring. “regardless: if you find someone who would go to tartarus and back with you, someone who would fight alongside you every step of the way, you hold on to them. there’s only so much time you mortals have on this earth.”

you sigh — easier said than done — but your father is trying, so you manage a nod.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

“now, i better go — ” poseidon looks over your shoulder, where the air behind you starts to feel staticky. “it seems a disagreement is brewing between zeus and hades. they always get into it whenever dionysus makes the wine a bit too strong. brother, put away the lightning bolt —” and he rushes away to prevent another divine conflict from arising.

left to your own devices, you venture over to the food table, finding an array of fresh and dried fruit, breads, cured meat, fresh oysters and, of course, more wine. you grab a goblet and a few dried figs.

“careful, i heard dionysus made the wine extra strong tonight,” someone warns, creeping up beside you. the voice is soft and alluring, and you feel something tug at your heart.

you do a double take when you turn to them; the person is devilishly handsome, a golden aura paired with a golden smile.

(you will soon find out that the god flirting with you is the son of ares and aphrodite, the latter of which takes the appearance of whoever the onlooker loves. as it turns out, her son appears in the same way.

all this to say: it doesn’t mean anything that this god looks like luke castellan to you.

it doesn’t mean anything at all.)

“i’m eros.”

“hey. i’m —”

“i know who you are, savior of olympus.” eros winks at you. “i just never realized you were so beautiful.”

your cheeks heat up as you take a sip of your drink.

oh, shit.

okay. the literal god of desire and pleasure is flirting with you.

you’re flattered, really, and maybe the wine has gotten to your head, but you’re not eager to turn him away.

“well, i’ve definitely heard about you, and the rumors do not do you justice,” you quip, painting on a flirtatious smile.

eros puffs out his chest, clearly pleased.

over the next few minutes, you decide that eros can hold a decent conversation, asking you the classic first date questions about your likes and dislikes, and he’s cute enough that you wouldn’t mind things going further.

(he might be a god, but he’s no luke. you push that thought away, and force yourself to flirt with helios. eros. right, eros.)

eros leans in close, pretends to listen to you, lets his gaze drop every so often to the deep v-neck of your shirt.

“no way! 13 going on 30 is a classic,” you argue. you nudge your shoulder into eros’s playfully, and let the contact between you linger. eros, the inspiration for cupid himself, has angel wings, and you feel them brush softly against your burning skin.

“it’s totally overrated!” eros exclaims. “also, the childhood friends to lovers trope gives people false hope.”

“it’s not false hope. it’s about the buildup to their happily ever after,” you reason, swallowing some wine to dislodge the lump in your throat.

eros shakes his head. “trust me, baby, it’s all about the instant attraction. that’s where the excitement is.”

he’s so close now, you can smell the sharp alcohol on his breath. not wine, but something stronger.

“oh? what do you mean by that?” you lean impossibly closer, trailing a finger down his chest.

eros smirks, placing a hand on your thigh. “want me to demonstrate?”

not even a second after you whisper a yes, eros crashes his lips onto yours, and you will yourself to kiss back. he slides his tongue in your mouth, runs his hands over your body.

you’re making out with the god of desire and passion, so, objectively, it’s a good first kiss: soft around the edges and firm where it needs to be.

sure — you feel nothing, no real spark, but it’s almost enough to fill the hole in your heart in the shape of a certain son of hermes.

the son of hermes who has moved on and is in a loving relationship with a perfect emotionally available partner.

so, it’s fine.

this, this thing with eros, is fine.

you’re fine.

eros pulls away first, but keeps a hand on your cheek.

“let's get out of here.”

he grabs your wrist before you have a chance to answer. you stand up, let him weave you through the crowd towards the stairs of the pavilion. apparently, his room is just through the garden.

as he tugs you along, he looks back at you, smiling. under the glow of the stars, eros looks just like luke, except it’s becoming harder to ignore that he isn’t luke and that makes you feel all sorts of nauseous. your camp necklace weighs on your chest and, in particular, the silver key that you’d kept for all those years burns through your skin.

lightheaded, you pull away from eros’ grip just as you reach the top of the stairs and place a hand on the column next to you to steady yourself.

eros turns around sharply. “what is it?”

“i changed my mind, actually. let’s just…keep talking here.”

eros grabs your wrist again, his grip tighter than before. “don’t be a tease.” his tone is ever-so-gentle, but there’s an edge behind his words.

this time, your voice comes out more assertive. “i just changed my mind. that doesn’t make me a tease.”

“come on, baby, don’t you wanna experience what real passion is? this is a once in a lifetime opportunity that a million girls would kill for. you’d be an idiot to pass it up.” he brags, and you’re this close to breaking this guy’s nose, god or not.

“i don’t care,” you snap, struggling to break free from his grip. “and i’m not your baby.”

“okay, whatever,” eros rolls his eyes, but quickly plasters on an arrogant grin. “we’ll go somewhere private and i’ll call you whatever you want.”

he manages to drag you down two steps as you strain against his iron grip, now almost cutting off your circulation. your heartbeat quickens and you feel dizzy. finally, you grab onto the railing for leverage and use your strength to rip out of his grip, forcing eros to stop in his tracks.

“what is it now?” he snaps, whipping his head around once more.

he looks nothing like luke, now.

“just stop, eros.”

“listen,” he starts, speaking to you almost mockingly, like you’re a naive little kid. so much for being the savior of olympus. “trust me, i know what people want, so you don’t have to be shy. i promise to be the best you’ve ever had —”

“eros, is it?” the rest of the party is in full motion, but here’s percy, giving eros one of the most intense death stares you’ve ever seen. percy, your little brother who talks to lonely fish at the aquarium; who, if you cut open, would bleed blue m&m’s; who would never let anyone, god or otherwise, hurt someone he loves. “i’m gonna have to ask you to let go of my sister.”

“mind your own business, kid,” eros hisses. “we’re kinda in the middle of something.” he tries to move you down another step, but you stand your ground.

annabeth, no longer the scared little seven year old you, luke, and thalia found behind a dumpster, is also glaring at liam from the top of the stairs. one of her hands rests firmly on her belt, where she keeps her dagger.

“i’d back off, if i were you,” she warns. “wouldn’t want to cause a scene.”

“just mind your own business,” eros snarls.

“they said leave her alone,” thalia asserts, walking over once she sees what’s happening. “and you don’t wanna mess with us, trust me.” she clenches her hand into a fist.

“who the fuck are you? her bodyguards?”

“just let her go,” percy orders. “my sister can do a lot better than a minor god with a major god complex.”

eros growls, baring his teeth at percy. “you impertinent little shit.”

as soon as eros lunges for your brother, you tug one of his wings towards you, hard. he whips around and you take the opportunity to punch him in the face. he doubles over, golden ichor gushing from his nose.

“i’d be careful if i were you, baby,” you seethe. “you wouldn’t want to go up against the demigods who led an army against kronos and won. unless, of course, humiliation is a kink of yours.” you laugh humorlessly at the way eros scowls at your words. “to each their own,” you continue. “but i’m not in the mood to fuck an entitled creep with angel wings to compensate for his tiny dick. you better fucking respect that, and leave us alone while you’re at it.”

eros’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only entitled, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a few blows to their ego.

call it stupidity or arrogance, but his only response is a punch delivered right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but percy manages to reach out and catch you before you fall down the stairs. he holds you as thalia and annabeth create a barrier between you and eros. you hear them shouting at eros over the music, but their exact words don’t register.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is suddenly all fuzzy. percy tries his best, but you slump your body weight into his and he almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” luke’s calm and measured voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. “from what i remember, you were too much of a coward to even step foot on the battlefield, so i’d listen to her if you know what’s good for you.” in a haze, you guess that luke is directing his sharp words towards eros, before turning to the others and instructing: “you guys take care of this — find clarisse if you need back up.”

somehow, you find yourself over in a small secluded temple, sitting on a window bench overlooking the clouds as luke sits next to you.

like most of olympus, the building is made of marble with gold accents; this one has roses engraved on the walls, and the space smells like flowery perfume. it’s much quieter than the pavilion, though you can hear laughter and music in the distance. it’s cooler, too, but not by much; even without all the body heat, you're left with sticky summer air, and luke’s breath on yours, sweet with wine and ripe fruit, as he carefully examines your injury.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the alcohol, or the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while — probably a dangerous mix of all three.

you know (from trying not to but ultimately not being able to pull your attention away from him after all) that he’s had a few drinks as well; it seems like the two of you ignore each other best when you’re sober.

“thought the curse of achilles would protect you from nosebleeds.”

“guess it doesn’t protect against —” what did percy call eros? “ — minor gods who have major god complexes,” you recite.

luke looks slightly amused. “that’s a shame,” he hums. “would have been nice to get one birthday without being injured.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the dull ache from your nose.

“you remembered.”

“of course i remember,” luke almost scoffs like the mere suggestion of forgetting what day you were born is an insult to his very character. he meets your gaze, and you could melt when he offers you that lopsided smile of his, painfully familiar. “happy birthday, aquagirl,” and it’s the softest he’s spoken to you in a while. just like old times.

he remembers.

somewhere within him, luke holds on to fragments of you.

he wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of his silk white button-down now stained crimson. “how’s your hand?” he asks.

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

“i guess all those years away didn’t change anything. still willing to put a god in their place, huh?”

all those years away.

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart, and you’re worried that it might burst the comfortable bubble you and luke had drunkenly stumbled into.

thankfully, luke continues:

“the kids really take after you.”

he says as a joke, mostly, but there’s a sincerity in those deep brown eyes of his, too. something you also hadn’t seen from him in a while.

the kids, who you’d in some ways raised together when monsters were trying to kill you and the gods didn’t care enough to stop it.

the family you and luke had built together despite being born into the world of greek tragedies.

“as if annabeth wasn’t threatening to pull the dagger you gave her, skywalker,” the nickname rolling off your tongue with ease. “besides, they’re not kids anymore.”

“yeah.” he pauses. “neither are we.”

luke’s fingers trace your camp necklace, brush against your collarbone. the breath hitches in your throat.

here you are again, at the edge of something real and very scary, and you fear luke is going to push the two of you over.

but he doesn’t. instead, luke suggests, jokingly: “maybe we should start a fight club at camp.”

you take that as a good sign: like you, he’s hoping to preserve the playfulness between you before everything else seeps in and ruins it. before you’re brought back to the present, where you’re practically ignoring each other.

where you’re fine, but really.

you snort. “chiron and mr. d would love that.”

“like they’d ever find out!” luke explains. “you know the first rule of fight club —”

“don’t talk about fight club,” you finish together.

luke laughs, even though it’s not that funny. you laugh, too.

and that’s the thing that really, truly gets you.

try as you might to ignore it, some days it’s hard to forget the pain and heartache and grief.

you still feel like your life is a battlefield; you still see the ghosts of everyone you couldn’t save even though people call you a savior; you still have those scars, inside and out, that seemed healed but ache every once and a while.

but that isn’t all.

sometimes it hurts more thinking back to the good times and knowing, deep down, you can never go back.

summer — age 13

“ugh — you think with all their power, the gods could help stop global warming,” you groaned, swatting away a mosquito that tried to land on you. “do you think they have air conditioning on olympus?”

“oh, for sure,” luke quipped. he gave you a lopsided smile, his curls sticking to his forehead, drenched in sweat.

it was the summer solstice, the longest and the hottest day of the year so far. the two of you had found a perfectly good hideout, but luke insisted that this place would be worth the move.

he’d been leading you down side streets for what felt like forever. the sun had already set, and you were very close to passing out from the heat, until luke finally stopped at a door behind an alley, with a sign reading CLOSED FOR RENOVATIONS.

luke knelt down to do whatever son-of-hermes lock magic he had to do to get the door open. he flipped a switch, and you winced at the sudden overwhelming brightness.

the destination was different than the hideouts you usually sprung for: those small, hole-in-the-wall type places. instead, this space was big and bright, filled with arcade games and fun posters and neon colours. the type of place a kid might have a party or where a group of normal teenagers might spend their friday night.

“what…what is this?”

“you thought i forgot, didn’t you?” luke smirked at you. he sat down on the colourful carpet, taking out some snacks, a small plastic bag with coins, a wrapped box, and a plastic blue crown, and gestured for you to join.

you did, in fact, think that luke had forgotten your birthday.

birthdays were bittersweet for children of gods, who were constantly reminded that any year could be their last, their youth cut short by monsters or prophecies or a fatal flaw. all the two of you usually did on either birthday was split any sweet treat you could get your hands on.

it wasn’t a big deal, really, to skip that tradition of yours. there were much more urgent things to worry about, like finding food and water and shelter, and not being devoured by monsters.

you did think it was strange that luke hadn’t so much as said happy birthday to you all day, but you knew that he loved you.

(like a friend loves a friend. nothing else, no matter how much your stomach fluttered at the thought of him.)

“i wanted to surprise you,” luke explained once you claimed your spot next to him. he reached over to place the crown on your head. “i found this place a few days ago during a food run. it reminds me of where we had your —”

“eighth birthday party, yeah.” you smiled at the memory of running around and feeding quarters to every machine and trying every game, of your classmates singing happy birthday to you off-key before you all stuffed your faces with sickly sweet confetti cake.

truthfully, you never thought about having another celebration like that again.

but, it was five years from that faded childhood memory, and luke was presenting you with something you didn’t even realize you had needed: the chance to be a kid again.

“so,” luke got up, a wide smile on his face. he held the plastic bag in one hand, extending the other to you. “which do you wanna play first?”

you started with space invaders, then moved on to dragon’s lair and pac-man. you took a break before street fighter ii so that luke could ceremoniously light a candle and present a cupcake that had been tossed around in his bag (but you were still very, very grateful for), along with fresh batteries for your portable cassette player. he had made you a mixtape too, though you couldn’t figure out how.

your last stop was a photobooth. you vowed to keep those pictures — a collection of you and luke together, smiling bright and colourful, goofing off and laughing — for the rest of your life.

now

those moments from past summers are like popsicles melting in the sun: tangible for a limited time before leaving you with a sickly sweet mess of what once was.

you think about what happened earlier, how percy, annabeth, and thalia stepped in to protect you, still the brave kids you had once known so well. how luke is here with you now, taking care of you so tenderly even after you’ve silently agreed to give each other the cold shoulder.

maybe luke is right. maybe all those years away didn’t change anything.

except — once you leave this temple and the alcohol leaves your system, it won’t be the same.

none of you are kids anymore, if you ever even were.

“why’d you go for eros, anyway?” luke asks, breaking you away from your thoughts. he removes his sleeve from your nose since the bleeding seems to have finally stopped.

“you really wanna know?”

“yeah. most gods are assholes. and you’re…” luke places a hand close to your leg, pinky finger brushing your thigh. “you.”

“i went for eros because….well, honestly, i don’t think i cared who it was, as long as they made me forget you,” you admit, because what did you have to lose. you probably have a broken nose, you definitely have blood on your shirt, and your time with luke is running out.

luke’s eyes darken. his fingers start to play with the hem of your shorts.

“did it work?” his voice is a whisper, but he’s close enough that he’s crystal clear.

“no.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on luke’s — messy and urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. he cradles your face in his hands, and you move to straddle his waist. you taste wine on his tongue, and maybe a hint of sweet pears, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the alcohol or adrenaline, but dizzy from him. luke’s gaze is heavy on yours as he traces your top lip with his thumb.

“luke,” you whimper, itching to kiss him again.

“you’re still bleeding.”

luke wipes away the blood with his thumb. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s an echo of footsteps on the marble floor. a flower nymph, there to leave an offering and let you know that, while aphrodite encourages acts of love, she prefers it doesn’t happen in her place of worship.

you realize that aphrodite also might not look so fondly at you kissing someone else in her place of worship after publicly rebuking her own son.

luke untangles himself from you, and you know that he’s been jolted back to reality, too.

and, just like that, another moment has melted away.

your father was right. time has a way of slipping away for us, immortal or not.

summer — age 18

“hey, you awake?”

“yeah,” you replied softly. sleep hadn’t been easy, in the days and weeks and months leading up to that final battle with kronos and his army.

and once it was all over?

you rested your head on luke’s shoulder, sword discarded at your feet and armour half-removed, as argus, the hundred-eyed security guard of olympus, drove a school bus with a dozen or so demigods back to camp.

“why’d you turn down their offer?” luke whispered.

oh.

"why...why do you ask?"

"i don't know." luke paused. "just curious, i guess."

you closed your eyes and replayed that moment on olympus when you refused the gift of immortality. the look of shock written on the gods’ faces. and on luke’s.

“i don’t care about living forever,” you told him bluntly.

forever seemed too long, especially for someone who was prophesied to die at 18.

you tilted your head up to meet luke’s gaze, and his messy curls brushed against your forehead. evidence of the battle was clear on his face: caked-on dirt and blossoming bruises and dried blood.

behind him, outside the bus window, the world was flying by. a child who had fallen off their bike being comforted by a friend. two people sharing an mp3 player and a pair of earbuds. an elderly couple walking their dog.

“you once told me that this was our life,” you continued, gesturing towards the weapons and battle-worn kids, some quiet, others crying, many injured. “what if it didn’t have to be?”

luke furrowed his brow. “do you mean….are you talking about leaving?”

you shrugged. running from monsters for your entire childhood then being the child of the great prophecy was a lot.

a break might be nice.

there was so much about the world, the one you’d fought and bled to protect, that you wanted to experience.

maybe something closer to a normal life.

“would you ever leave camp?” you wondered, not really answering luke's question.

“no,” luke replied instantly. his fingers started fiddling with the beads on his necklace. “i can’t just walk away, not after everything.”

“yeah, i get that.” and you did; you really, truly, did. the guilt of wanting to leave camp curled in your stomach like a venomous snake. you took a shaky breath. “let’s talk about this later, yeah? i’m tired, and we have the rest of — ”

the rest of the summer slipped away in the blink of an eye. gone, before you even had a real chance to say goodbye.

you closed your eyes and held on to luke, as if gripping his arm would anchor you to something you weren't ready to let go of, but in some ways needed to move on from.

it was no use, though.

by the end of august, you’d be gone too.

now

you learned early on that the curse of achilles doesn’t protect you from hangovers.

you wake up the morning after the celebration on olympus with a deep, throbbing pain lodged in your temple and an uncomfortable swirling in your gut. parties and late nights at bars are common on tour, which means migraines are, too, so you have a routine to make sure you’re not out of commission for too long.

except this time, the aspirin and blue gatorade and dry toast don’t work. the sting in your brain and uneasiness in your stomach doesn’t go away, even after a few days. you haven’t been able to sleep, either.

desperate for a cure, you consult lou ellen, head counsellor of the hecate cabin, who you’d unexpectedly grown close to in the past few weeks. she mixes something for you, while asking if there’s something that’s been weighing on you.

you couldn't keep it in anymore; you tell her about the summer solstice and luke.

later, with nothing but your thoughts and percy’s snoring occupying your time post-curfew, you grab your phone and flip it open, deciding to finally reach out to luke, when you get a text from him.

luke is already on the beach when you arrive, looking out onto the water.

“hey,” you greet as you sit next to him on the sand, but not too close. “i was actually about to text you —”

“did you tell anyone that we kissed?” he interrupts. you can’t quite read his expression as he waits for you to answer.

“no, i didn’t,” you lie. “would it matter if i did?”

“well, i mean, word travels fast around camp, and i don’t want van finding out. it’s not like it meant anything.”

the throbbing in your brain becomes a sharper sting, the uneasiness in your stomach a tidal wave of nausea.

“it didn’t?” you hate how fragile your voice sounds, compared to luke’s stoic demeanor.

luke shrugs. “i mean, we were both drunk and the thing with eros happened…we just got caught up in the heat of the moment.”

“you’re saying there’s nothing between us, then? nothing?” the word tastes bitter in your mouth.

luke turns away before he answers. “no. nothing.”

“then what about last summer?” you demand. you force yourself to keep it together, your tone firmer than before. “i guess that didn’t mean anything, either.”

“y/n…” he sighs. “i don’t know what you want me to say. we’re barely even friends anymore. you come back here, after all this time, after so much shit happened, and expect us all to drop everything to fit you back into our lives. but, you don't. whatever you came here for, it's not here for you. there's nothing to go back to. we moved on. i moved on, and i can’t deal with you —"

“got it,” you snap, already turning to walk away. “loud and fucking clear, luke.”

it’s not like it meant anything. we’re barely even friends anymore.

you replay luke’s words as you crawl into bed, holding back tears so as to not disturb percy. finally, you swallow a generous amount of whatever concoction lou ellen had brewed up for you.

drifting off into your own sleep, you decide that you don’t love luke anymore. not as a friend, not as a.....

nope.

according to luke, there's not even anything to go back to.

nothing.

#feel free to comment + reblog <3 #saf writes #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series #pjo x reader #luke castellan angst

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hedgehog-moss · 3 months ago

Note

I met with you in my dream last night! For some reason I was in France, so it was only natural I go visit you. You took me on a little tour of your house and showed me some cow bones you had, and then you took me on a ride in your flying boat and fed me some cut fruit. You were very kind and gave me some excellent advice on a problem I was having in the dream. Then we met up with my mother, and I introduced you as my friend Hedgehog, lol. Thank you for being such a lovely host in my dream!! It was quite fun. I hope I get to visit dream you again, and maybe meet the dream llamas next time!

That's such a nice dream! All it's missing is a kiss from Poldine :) I'm glad I was a welcoming host, because I was bracing myself for a dark turn when I read "you showed me some cow bones you had"—that just felt ominous.

I want you to know that it may have been a prophetic dream. Just a few days after I read your ask, back in June, Poldine & I went to visit some distant neighbours, and not only did I find the place eerily quiet and messy-empty, as if they had moved in a hurry, but there was a cow skull on their doormat. (There was also a goat skull behind the window in the barn.) My first assumption was that someone had placed the skulls there while the owners were temporarily absent and it had scared them into leaving for good. (I asked a friend "What should I do if I came home from a weekend away and found a cow skull placed in front of my door, and a goat skull behind the window in the barn?" and she said "Let whoever did this have your house; leave immediately.")

I don't want to post my cow skull photo because you see the glass door + the inside of the house behind it so it feels weird, like I'm doxxing my ex- or future-neighbours. Whoever moves here next will already have enough problems, what with all the skulls. I do have a photo of Poldine looking ambivalent about our presence here, post-skull discovery:

EDIT 2 months later: I kept this in my drafts and let the summer pass before posting, hoping local gossip would allow me to figure out what happened and I'd have a fun story to share, but no. The facts are: my distant neighbours (who moved here just last year) moved back to the big city in a hurry, no one knows why, 2 other people went to visit them after they left but I am the only one who saw the skulls. Maybe the person who put them there came back for them later so they can use them again when a new family buys this house? (It's a nice little wooden chalet, if anyone is interested. You'll be living in the woods with your nearest neighbours quite far away and possibly an enemy lurking in some nearby tree.)

I'm very sorry for unexpectedly turning your lovely ask into an episode of Creepy Rural Mysteries! Let me know if you have any more dreams about visiting me; they could contain important details and / or warnings.

#ask

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frogchiro · 1 year ago

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Creepy König has me FROTHING oh my god

König who is very much alternate coded :(( While you have obviously a huge amount of respect for your colonel, he also makes a shiver run down your spine and not in a positive kind of way.

You think that the times during camp outs or stays at a safehouse are relatively the creepiest and most unnerving, even more so if it's just you two because the job required only a skilled soldier and a technician/intelligence worker and...here you are.

While you sure do appreciate the extra protection with colonel König, not to mention his efficience and prowess in battle, the silence is killing you, or at least you feel like it. Colonel König is a naturally silent man which was and still is a mystery to you, after all how can a man that big be so silent? Like sometimes you feel he appears out of thin air...and then there's the lurking and staring which are objectively much worse.

You just can't shake off the feeling of eyes looking right at you, right through you and anytime you turn around you find him, König, and his wide unblinking gaze fixated on you.

Now it's even worse in the extremely close proximity in the small, old safehouse. The space is very cramped and with the man's huge body it's even smaller so you have to endure squeezing together as tight as you can. What's even worse is that even when you tried some awkward small-talk you were met with ominous silence and those unblinking eyes locked on you like you were an artifact to be marveled at.

You tried to fall asleep but not only it was way too cold, but you also felt König's eyes on your back, not to mention the eerie silence from behind you, like he wasn't even breathing. Curling up into a tight ball under the measly blanket you try to sleep, only to feel a sudden warmth clinging close to your back, basically dwarfing you with its size and you soon realize that it's...König who's doing it. Your colonel, the cryptid soldier who is basically compared to the boogyman is spooning you because he thinks that you're shivering with the cold and not an almost hysterical feeling of being constantly watched.

You would have laughed if not for the furnace-like warmth radiating from the man behind you, not to mention...a weird, vibrating sound emitting from behind you, almost like a purr but more guttural which actually helped you relax more and almost fall asleep on the spot...You decided that the eerie and unnerving behavior of your colonel could wait a little longer, after all he'd sharing body heat right now with you and is basically lulling you to sleep...Yeah, it had to wait...

#kin speaks #asks #interactions #cod x reader #cod mw x reader #hackergirl!reader #creepy!könig #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig x reader

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proseandpretrichor · 2 months ago

Text

Longing For You~ Spencer Reid

Summary: After noticing you share the same bus route, Spencer can't help but want to know more about you Warnings: None

Spencer had memorized your entire routine. Not in a creepy stalker way, he honestly couldn’t help it, your existence shone so bright it rendered him in captivation without you really even trying.

The first Monday he saw you, he smelled your perfume first. Vanilla with some hints of coffee and cinnamon, warm and comforting, like a hug from fall itself. You came to stand in front of where he sat, there being no room in the crowded bus, leaving you with the only option of invading his presence with yours. Facing him so that you could look out the window, the only words you had since spoken to him were a quick, “Sorry!” before turning your attention to the contents outside.

He didn’t anticipate what your voice would have sounded like but it matched you perfectly, soft, warm, melodic and lilting. Reminding him of the wind-chimes, Garcia cluttered her front porch with.

He wouldn’t have given anything and everything the universe desired of him to hear it again, to hear it every moment he was given on this earth.

He took the advantage of your distraction to commit your appearance to memory. You were much shorter than him. While he was tall and lanky, you were soft and curvy, every part of your body well loved. Shiny hair tumbling to kiss your shoulders creating a halo-like frame around your face. The hue of your hair saturating the in color your eyes, which sparkled from the wide-framed glasses perched on your nose dotted with freckles that splayed out reaching out till your cheekbones. Your full cheeks tinted pink from your exertion to reach the bus. Your lips were a modest plump, your fuller bottom lip caught in between your teeth as you surveyed the scenes they passed.

That day you wore a simple black dress. Thin straps meeting the v-line that plummeted to your cleavage. The fabric clinging to your soft curves until your hips then fell loosely till your mid-thighs. Artistically woven jewelry making home in the open space of your chest as though pointed to the art below the garments. An oversized sage green sweater covered your exposed shoulders and trailed down your arms covering your ring clad fingers which clasped your leather satchel matching his.

Your black boot clad feet tip tapped on the bus floor as you mouthed the lyrics to the music flowing from the earbuds in your ears adorned with more jewelry he thought could possibly fit on someone’s ears.

It was then that he noticed an array of tattoos underneath your black stockings.

An open faced pomegranate, a fairy, a hummingbird, a lit lantern with some plants hanging from the frame, a cracked antique looking mirror and a mosaic looking window were only some of the art that he could see covering your lower thighs and upper calves. Spencer was never particularly drawn to tattoos before, but there was something so mesmerizing and intriguing about the ink plastered on your skin. Why these drawings, what did they mean to you, what were their stories, did you have any others he couldn’t see.

The chirping sound of someone signaling the driver to stop the bus interrupted his thoughts and before he could snap out of his trance you were gone.

The next day, Spencer vibrated with anticipation as the bus hurled towards the stop he hoped you would be at. Sure enough, the open doors wafted your perfume towards him as he glanced up from his shoes and saw you walking towards him as you boarded the bus.

This Tuesday was rainy, foggy, humid, and ominous. While Spencer loved the possibility these kinds of days brought, most of society didn’t. And much to his delight, this meant the bus wasn’t as crowded as the previous day, allowing you to perch yourself in the seat across from him.

The open space allowed you to open your satchel and bring out your book which seemed to delight you. You wiggled in your seat as you opened the very worn copy, cramming the bookmark, annotation tabs and pencil in your hand as you placed the book on your thighs.

Spencer couldn’t help but stare at you in awe as you lost yourself in the pages in the way he’s only seen in himself. Every now and then you would pause, look up and out at the window above him, adjust your glasses, underline a particular sentence or two and tab the page before losing yourself in the plot once more.

He couldn’t help but feel pieces of his soul chip off of his being and float over to you every time you hummed a note in the song you was listening to or pulled a berry glossed lip into your teeth.

Spencer knew in his very genius logical mind that love at first sight couldn't possibly be plausible. While love at first sight could very well be an intense initial attraction, one couldn’t simply be in love or hold the intense passion of love with nothing but a singular glance of a person.

But in that moment, Spencer was willing to risk it all, he was willing to step onto every stage he ever stood on and declare he wished to worship this one goddess for the rest of his life, however long he was blessed with. And if he was granted too little time on this earth, he would beg on his knees to a god he didn’t believe in to have just one more minute looking at you.

Over the coming weeks, Spencer committed any little detail of you to memory. An unsleeved coffee cup told him the secret of your coffee order- a hot/iced dirty chai extra chai and a shot of caramel. The temperature of your beverage depends on the weather that day.

He figured out your favorite color as your glasses, phone case, and many of your articles of clothing were various shades of the same color.

A flash of your work badge allowed him to notice your place of work- a local university in the city of Quanitico which a quick shameful google search he made as soon as he got to work told him you were the lead analyst and book curator for the library at the school.

He joined Instagram just to scroll through your posts and stories which included snapshots of the books you read - a blend of the classics, fantasy, and romance being the most frequent genres you enjoyed, song lyrics that spoke to you, and what you called photo dumps of random candids of you and things you enjoyed throughout your weeks.

He learned you had a rescue pitbull named Galadriel which you affectionately called Gala from your posts and phone lockscreen.

He learned you graduated from Harvard from the only swag sweatshirt you seemed to own since unlike all of the clothes he had seen you wear this one was faded and worn and a quick inquiry from an acquaintance who raved on and on about the sweet, dedicated, and smart nature of their old student.

After three months of shared bus routes, he was totally enamored with you. You were his last thought before he went to bed wondering how you would do your hair or what you would wear the next morning and the first thought he mustered when he woke up a ghostly waft of your perfume fueling him to start the day just to see her.

He longed to hold you in his arms, to bury his head in your neck, card his fingers through your soft tresses and listen to your every word with a baited breath. But no matter how much he longed and struggled to gain the confidence to just try and approach you, he couldn’t enter your bubble for fear of you finding him uninteresting.

It was 3:37 on a Wednesday afternoon as Spencer sat down in his usual seat. He and the team had just wrapped up a case when he decided he would take the after case paperwork home and do it after a little power nap and shower. As he leaned against the window clutching his go-bag in his lap, he didn’t notice the bus filling up with people leaving work, nor did he register the presence coming up towards him.

“Excuse me,” he turned to face the voice, “Do you mind if I sit here, there’s no more space otherwise I’d give you the row” You smiled softly at him gesturing at the seat beside him.

“No, of course! I don’t mind at all.” He said a little to hurriedly wincing at his own excitement.

With a soft thanks, You plopped in the seat, thigh brushing his due to the close proximity.

“Are you alright? I don’t mean to pry but you seem more exhausted today then you typically do. Not that you look tired normally, I didn’t mean that…” You stuttered, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I just haven’t seen you in a while and wanted to make sure everything was okay in your world.” Finishing with tinged cheeks you glanced at him before focusing on one of your rings.

“I am quite alright, thank you. Exhausted yes, but if anything relieved to be here. I was on a case.” Spencer told you, teeming with excitement that they were finally having a conversation, something he only ever thought would happen in his daydreams.

“A case?” What kind of case, if you don’t mind me asking.” You tilted your head fully invested in his next words.

Spencer couldn’t believe that not only did you notice he was gone, wanted to check on his well-being, but actually was invested in his life with a sliver of interest he had with you.

“You don’t have to share. I know I’m being nosy. Just tell me to butt-out if you want some peace and quiet.”

“No! He quickly shut you down.

“I don’t mind, I work for the FBI, I was on a case to stop a series of serial killings.”

You fully turned in her seat, mouth dropping in shock. “I thought they only had those jobs in movies! Do you have those boards with the pictures and the red strings, and have the family members make phone calls to the criminals?” your hands started waving and your eyes widening as the thoughts raced around in your head.

“Well I am a terrible liar so I don’t think I’m cut out to be an actor. He tried to joke that he was delighted to be rewarded with a little giggle from the girl beside him.

“We have boards, yes, no strings, though. We mainly put photos of preceding victims, evidence and geographical tools such as maps. Sometimes we entice the unsub with direct contact if they have the need to inselves into the investigation. Most of the time we don’t have any contact” He rambled but quickly trailed off taking a peek at you to see if you had any signs of boredom.

Instead you found you leaning towards him, chin resting your closed fist which you propped on your thigh. You nodded along pausing before asking, “Unsub? I’m unfamiliar with that term.”

“Unidentified subject,” Spencer supplied, “Since they are not convicted or charged with a crime, yet they are not technically criminals.”

“Ohhhhh, yeah that makes total sense. Duh” You said lightly smacking your forehead. Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle.

Spencer expected you to be content with the conversation and turn your attention elsewhere. Instead you continued asking him questions about the case, interjecting to ask his opinions on the unsubs behaviors or make little comments of your own. Just as Spencer anticipated, talking to you was easy even if they were discussing a rather heavy topic and you voiced very interesting points.

Before he knew it, the bus had arrived at your stop and Spencer's heart ached when you moved to get up.

“See you tomorrow… I’m sorry I don’t know your name!” you exclaimed, hands coming up to cup your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Spencer Reid.” He offered.

“Y/N Y/LN” you returned beaming up at him. “I would love to continue this conversation tomorrow if you're interested.” you asked, looking down nervously.

“I would like that.” Spencer returned.

You nodded and with a little bounce you turned and headed to the bus exit. As you stood behind the line of passengers exiting, you turned back and waved at Spencer before you disappeared off the bus.

Spencer held his hand up to wave back hoping you saw him return your gesture.

For the rest of his ride, he could not stop grinning. He willed the bus to drive to his apartment faster so he could climb into bed so the next time he opened his eyes he would only have to wait a little longer to hear your voice and smell that vanilla perfume.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid criminal minds

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artificial-transmutations · 8 months ago

Text

Insatiable

"You want... dick?"

Oh God, finally! It had been the most stressful and embarrassing fifteen minutes for Derek, but apparently, the old (and somewhat creepy) lady on the other side of the desk finally got what he meant.

"Yes! Dick, cock, penis, that's what I want. For my boyfriend." he added.

Communication has been... Difficult to say the least. Derek would normally never set food into a store like this. The small room was cramped with various utensils Derek couldn't even name. There was a stuffed alligator hanging from the ceiling, and a row of dusty jars was standing on a shelf right next to his ear. Derek was sure they contained old and wrinkly apples, mainly because he didn't want to think about what could be in them if it weren't apples.

However, as creepy as this place was, some of his friends had recommended it highly, because the owner of the store apparently could produce an aphrodisiac that put the blue pill to shame. Even if she looked like the embodiment of a voodoo lady, that was.

However, explaining what he wanted and that he wanted it for his boyfriend had been more than difficult. The old lady seemed to be hard of hearing *and* had a hard time grasping the concept of a gay couple. But, apparently, finally it clicked.

The lady shrugged her shoulders which made her large earrings shake.

"OK. Dick for boyfriend." she shrugged again, but began to gather... Something... From her drawers.

"I need..." she began, but Derek interrupted her.

"Some of his hair, yes." That part was clear to Derek since all his friends who recommended the place mentioned. It was probably just for show, but apparently, some hair was a required ingredient.

The old lady nodded and took the small plastic bag with Sean's hair that Derek had brought.

He was surprised when he saw her kneading a soft wax like mass with her bony fingers. Wasn't she supposed to prepare some pills or potion?

He was yanked back to reality by a short tug on his scalp though. The voodoo lady had ripped off some of his own hair, too.

"Ouch! What was that for?" he asked, although it hardly hurt.

"Need hair both" was the only answer he received.

Fascinatedly, Derek watched as the old lady formed a small humanoid doll from the substance. Of course. A voodoo doll. So much for any real surprise for Sean's birthday. Well, at least it was an original joke gift.

The wax figure was unmistakably male. On the one hand, it was obvious from the V-shaped body, the flat chest and the muscular frame that was emerging, but, most importantly because of the other detail the old lady included: the doll was very much anatomically correct, as it sported a large, erect phallus, proudly emerging from its loins. When she was satisfied, she carefully took out Sean's hair and dotted it on the small doll. Derek watched her put it on the dolls head, its chest and even under the figures arms.

Derek's hair, however, went to the pubic area and was used to form a large bush around the phallus. She even massaged some of the hairs into the rod itself.

When she was finished, she took a short look at the doll and quickly dipped it into a cauldron holding an ominous slimy liquid.

"Here, finished. It's 10 dollars."

"Ookay..." Derek began. "And how does it work exactly?"

"It just works. Trust. It's 10 dollars." was the only answer he got.

Derek shrugged and paid the old lady before taking the wet doll. Careful not to get the liquid on his clothes, he thanked her and left the building.

He drove home, a smile on his lips. Hopefully, his boyfriend would like the joke gift.

***

"What is that?", Sean asked curiously, as he eyed the little figure.

"Isn't that obvious?" Derek laughed. "It's a voodoo doll, and it's supposed to improve our sex life."

Sean raised an eyebrow. "Do you think our sex life needs improving?" he asked his boyfriend in an amused voice.

Before Derek could answer though, he laughed and said: "Thanks, honey". He kissed his boyfriend, and what was originally planned to be a quick peck on the lips turned into a long and sensual kiss involving tongue and roaming hands.

They both panted when they eventually separated.

"I can already see a positive effect.", Sean remarked. "Do you want to take it to the bedroom and help me with that?" he grinned and gestured towards a small but noticeable bulge in his pants.

Derek gulped. "Yeah." he replied.

They hurried to the bedroom, where their clothes came off in a hurry.

Sean was unusually active. Normally, he was a pretty passive bottom, which worked well for Derek, since he had the bigger dick and liked to top more. However, today, after some making out, Sean whispered:

"Let's try something new."

Sean's hand, which had traveled to Derek's ass left little room for interpretation on what he meant. He nodded. If Sean wanted to top, and on his birthday of all days, who was he to disagree?

They moved around, so Derek was on all fours and Sean positioned himself behind him. Derek closed his eyes in anticipation, feeling the cool air on his ass, the bed slightly dipping, and Sean's hot breath.

"I can't wait to get inside you." Sean breathed.

The next thing Derek felt was something hard, wet and hot against his asshole.

His eyes shot open.

"Is that your tongue?"

Sean hummed. "Yeah, and it tastes great."

He proceeded to lick Derek's butthole, occasionally even penetrating it with the tip of his tongue. Then, finally, Sean removed his tongue and left the stage open for his very erect cock.

Derek had expected him to use lube, but instead, he heard his boyfriend spit and felt a hot liquid hit his butthole. He didn't complain though. This was new, exciting, and he really wanted to see where this would lead. Besides, Sean's cock was small enough to not hurt much either way.

And, true enough, he slid into Derek with little to no resistance.

"You like that?", Sean grunted, and Derek could only moan in response.

Slowly at first, then faster and faster, Sean was fucking Derek. Horny as they both were, it didn't take them too long to simultaneously cry out in ecstasy, as Sean pumped his seed into Derek's ass.

As they were both lying on the bed, panting and recovering, neither of them noticed at first that some subtle changes crept over their bodies. Where Sean was growing a bit bigger overall, both in height as well as in mass, Derek shrunk.

At first it seemed that he was losing stature in the same amount that Sean was gaining - however, that quickly proved not to be the case: After a few moments, Derek had lost a good 25 centimeters of height and was overall thinner and leaner than before.

Sean, on the other hand, was somewhat more muscular and had gained about 5 centimeters in height, putting him at about 1,80 meters now. His changes would have been way less noticeable had it not been for another growth: On both his chest and under his armpits, a patch of dense black and curly hair had begun to sprout.

One thing however had not changed: The size of their slowly softening dicks. However, with their new body sizes, Derek's cock looked even bigger and Sean's even smaller than before.

They were both still catching their breath when Derek was the first to notice the change.

"What the-", he exclaimed. He sat up, looking at his body.

"What is it?" asked Sean, also sitting up. "Woha. Have you shrunk?"

Derek looked at him, confused and slightly worried.

"What? No! You have gotten bigger."

Sean frowned. "Really? I feel like I have grown a bit, but I think you have become a bit smaller."

Sean stood up and gestured his boyfriend to do the same. Really, while the perspective was a bit off for Sean, it was completely different for Derek. His eye level was about at shoulder-height of Sean now and he had to look up to see his face.

"I am shorter." he remarked, dumbfounded.

Sean shook his head. "But that's impossible."

"It is." Derek confirmed. "And why the hell do you have hair under your arms, too?"

Sean shrugged, confused, but then he looked down his own body.

"It's not just there! Man, my body feels *weird*. It's like it's not even my own."

"Tell me about it", said Derek with a grimace. "I feel like a dwarf!"

"Awww." Smiled Sean. "But if it's any consolation: You are a very sexy dwarf. You have such a cute ass." As if to make a point, he slapped Derek's behind lightly.

"Yeah, well, I have noticed your newfound interest in that area." Derek commented dryly.

"Hey, it's not like you can complain!"

Sean readjusted his dick, which hadn't returned to a fully flaccid state with all the talk about asses. It was true, though: Derek was really cute that way.

Derek meanwhile slapped his forehead. "Of course. It must be that voodoo doll. Let me phone the shop!"

"You mean like real magic?" Sean said but Derek was already dialing his phone. After a few seconds, however, he hung up.

"Damn, they're closed for the day already. I'll have to try tomorrow."

"Well, I guess there are worse things than being short for a day. Hey, how about we watch a movie and eat some pizza tonight, and tomorrow, you can go to that store first thing in the morning."

Derek broke into a smile. Sean was right of course. It wasn't like anything catastrophic had happened. Still, the implications, with voodoo magic being real and all that were a lot to think about it. But that could wait until tomorrow.

"Sure! It's your birthday after all!"

They put on some clothes and went to prepare pizza together. Their body sizes were becoming pretty obvious when they settled on the couch after dinner. Of course, their usual snuggling positions didn't quite work out and they had to arrange differently. Finally, they settled with Derek's head on Sean's lap, who took quite a bit more space on the sofa now.

This position allowed Derek to notice at once when, around after half the movie, certain parts of Sean stirred under his head.

"Are you seriously getting a boner from me watching a movie?"

Sean grinned. "Sorry. You just feel so nice down there."

Derek rolled his eyes.

"You know, I can feel a boner poking against the back of my head, too."

"Hey, it's not my fault when you look so cute!" Sean smiled and stroked Derek's hair.

"Well, the voodoo lady did say that the doll was supposed to increase our sex drive. I guess that part works. We can still watch the movie if you want."

"Actually..." Sean began, and Derek could feel Sean's dick quickly getting harder. "... I have a different idea."

Sean pulled his pants down a little, just enough to free his cock.

"Would you give me a blowjob?"

"Sure." replied Derek. It had been a while since they had switched things up, so he was more than willing to go with it.

Sean shifted, giving his boyfriend better access, and Derek scooted lower. He grabbed the shaft and gave it a few tentative licks, before starting to suck in earnest.

While Derek was busy working on Sean's dick, his own was straining his pants, and he opened them to jerk off. However, after some minutes of enjoying the sensation, Sean pushed back Derek's head.

"Enough with your mouth." he said, with his voice coarse from arousal. "I want that ass."

Derek didn't object. He stood up and let his pants and underwear drop.

"Wait a second. Let me get some lube."

"No need." replied Sean and Derek could see that he was right. Sean's cock was still wet from his blowjob and from the precum that was spilling out of the tip. With one hand, he spread his ass cheeks.

"Do it. Do me."

Sean didn't have to be told twice. He stood up and, after some brief repositioning, pushed his cock into his boyfriend's waiting hole.

"Oh God! You're even tighter than before!" he moaned, as he began to push into his boyfriend.

Derek couldn't answer from the onslaught of sensation, but Sean was right. It felt like Sean's cock filled him up like never before. Derek almost came from the sensation of Sean entering him alone.

When Sean began pumping, slow at first but quickly picking up pace, Derek was lost in ecstasy. All he could feel was his boyfriends cock inside of him, filling him from behind and rocking his world. At some point, he came all over the couch, but he didn't stop, because Sean didn't stop. He jerked his own cock more and more, riding the waves of his orgasm while his boyfriend kept plowing his ass.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity, Sean's thrusts became faster, erratic. With one last push, he buried his cock in Derek's ass and spilled his load.

Both men saw stars after that and were busy catching their breath, when, again, a change washed over them. This time, Derek noticed as the world around him became bigger quickly.

"Wha... It's happening again!" he cried out, alerting Sean to the fact, too.

Sean watched as Derek got smaller... and *smaller*, still impaled on Sean's dick. His shrinking only stopped when he was about 50 centimeters in height, barely half a meter tall.

"Did... it stop?" Derek asked, with his voice somewhat higher and fainter than before. Sean's voice, on the other hand, sounded deeper and resonated louder when he answered:

"Seems that way. Wow, what a shock. Let's get you off of me, first."

Sean tried to lift Derek up from his lap but found himself unable to. Sean's dick was firmly lodged into Derek's ass now and no matter how hard he pulled, Derek wouldn't come off. in fact, when he felt the hairy root of his cock, he couldn't even find a gap between it and Derek's ass cheeks, so tight was the connection. It was like Derek was glued or welded to his groin.

"Oh my god." exclaimed Derek, when he noticed the same thing. "I'm stuck!"

"What should we do?" asked Sean.

"What *can* we do?" asked Derek, with clear panic in his voice.

"Okay, okay. Calm down. We're still good, right? Everyone is alive, nothing to worry about. Tomorrow, we will go to that shop and have this sorted out."

"You're right." sighed Derek, who was still trying to free himself. "It's not like I'm hurting or anything. This is just weird. And uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable? What's wrong?"

"Everything." answered Derek, who had given up struggling. "The position, for starters. My feet aren't touching the ground."

"Oh." replied Sean. There was nothing else he could think of.

"It's not... *that* bad though", Derek continued. "It does kinda feel good to be this close. Like snuggling."

"Like snuggling?" asked Sean.

"Like really *close* snuggling. And you're pretty big right now, so I feel really secure."

Sean smiled, apparently having been successful in calming his boyfriend. He secretly had to admit that the situation was pretty exciting for him, but he didn't want to show it. Instead, he secured the small Derek with his arms and walked to the bathroom. It felt like carrying a small backpack in front of his body.

"Let's get cleaned up, okay?"

They did just that. Derek found that he could stabilize himself pretty well on Sean's body. And they both noticed that Sean, too had grown again. Now measuring about 1,90 meters and being covered by a considerate amount of body hair was certainly something else, but it paled in comparison to having his half-a-meter-boyfriend attached to his groin.

Not knowing what else to do afterwards, they went to bed. Sean carefully climbed on the mattress, making sure not to jostle his tiny partner too much. He positioned himself and put the blanket over him, with Derek safely secured underneath.

"Is everything okay?", Sean asked.

Derek was covered by the blanket completely but actually felt good. It was the safest feeling he had had for a very long time.

"Actually, yeah. I guess. Good night, honey."

"Good night, Derek."

After a few moments, Derek could hear Sean snoring and shortly after, he, too drifted off to sleep.

It was morning, when Derek awoke to a strange sensation. He felt really stiff, his back was straight, and he was feeling... horny. Of course, Derek had felt horny before, but this was no comparison. It was like "horny" flooded his whole system, from head to toe.

His mouth tasted like yesterday's blowjob... again. The salty taste of precum was on his tongue and his lips were tingling. He couldn't remember ever having felt that horny before, his whole body was just buzzing.

"Are you awake?" Sean's voice, deep and rumbling, startled him.

"Huh?", was his only reaction.

"Are you awake?" repeated Sean. "I'm horny as fuck."

"Uh, me, too." answered Derek, slowly regaining control of his voice. "Do you wanna..."

"Yes. Oh yes. Perhaps if I push you up and down my cock, we can..."

"Worth a shot." Derek confirmed.

Sean did just that. He gripped Derek under his shoulders, making sure that his small hands were not crushed, and slowly began lifting him. As before, Derek's ass was still firmly attached to Sean's groin, but the tugging sensation was enough for both of them to produce a deep and needy moan.

However, as Sean pushed Derek back and began to pull again, Derek interrupted:

"Wait! What if... we change more?"

Even though it took a considerable amount of will from Sean, he stopped for a moment. Derek was right, he knew that. But the urge was just too strong.

"Yes..." he half-moaned. "...but I need this."

"Sean, what..." Derek began, but Sean had started to tug Derek's smaller body again, and the rest of his sentence was swallowed by a needy moan from Derek as well. Fuck it, how much worse could it get?

As Sean moved his hands up and down Derek's body, he could feel more changes setting in sooner. The taste of precum in his mouth intensified and Derek found himself drooling up liquid that tasted like it as well. It ran down his body, which was, again, changing.

Derek's arms and legs shrunk into his body fast, faster even than the rest of his body, which was also getting smaller again. It was mainly frustrating for Derek since he couldn't reach his cock anymore, as his extremities got absorbed into his more and more cylindrical body.

Sean's movements changed once Derek's arms were out of the way. No longer was he tugging the much, much smaller man up and down, but instead he closed both of his arms around Derek's torso and started *rubbing* them up and down.

The feeling was incredible. Derek found himself drooling more and more, coating his whole smaller body with precum. As Sean pumped his hands up and down Derek's body, wet sounds emerged, just as if he was pumping a well-lubed cock.

The motions quickly became quicker and quicker, Sean's breathing heavier and heavier. Derek's breathing however stopped entirely, as his inner organs changed into the only thing that was important: the various veins and glands that made up a cock. His own cock and balls disappeared into his body as well - not that he needed them anymore. He didn't need a cock, he was *becoming* a cock. A large and hefty tube of flesh, firmly attached to manly Sean, who was grunting now, close to release.

Derek could feel a pressure starting deep within him, and, as his head changed into Sean's cock head, he *exploded* with his cum, spewing it from the slit that had been his mouth just a few minutes before to everywhere in the room.

***

Of course, the voodoo shop was nowhere to be found - or so Sean claimed. Derek had remained somewhat sentient, but unable to express himself other than through twitching and getting stiff. Sean was a man who had a cock with a mind of his own - literally. The new and enormous cock meat he called his own now was quickly becoming the center of his world. Not only had his cock a mind of his own, Sean was also more and more thinking with his cock. He was positively addicted to getting off and his libido surpassed that of the two men become one.

It didn't take long until Sean lost his job due to the fact that he just couldn't stop masturbating long enough to squeeze in eight hours of work. His environment degraded around him into a cheap and dirty flat. But all of that was hardly important. Sean was a stud of a man with a cock to match. And he knew how to use his equipment all too well. He was quickly getting known as the insatiable top, who sometimes brought home two or three guys at the same time. When he was not busy breeding some bottom, he mainly spent his time watching porn or idly playing with himself. One thing was certain: Derek had certainly got a lot of action for his money.

Time for a good old cock tf! This one is a bit more involuntary and a bit more focused on the actual transformation than my series Closer Than Flesh, which focused more on the story of *being* cockmeat. I'm sure I wouldn't mind either way!

Do you have any transformation you would want to see written? Don't hesitate to message me!

#male transformation #muscle transformation #inanimate transformation #cock tf #hairy

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