#'where' space camp. he's on a break
Text
Down and Out
phic phight prompts taken from @sillysugargliders and @akela-nakamura
“Technowizard!” Tuck declared, pointing up towards the glass ceiling. The ratty Hack-A-Thon tee-shirt and Star Wars print pants did not an imposing outfit make.
Sam’s avocado-coated face barely even looked up from her phone. “Lame.”
“The Finest Pharoah!” Tucker tried again, glaring straight down at Sam as he posed again— this time, with his other hand.
“Cringe,” was Sam’s bland contribution.
Tucker threw both his hands in the air in sheer exasperation, narrowly avoiding sending Sheila2 flying up into the air with them. “The— oh shoot— the Tech Menace! The Electric Enemy!”
“Makes you sound like a bit-rate villain,” Sam drawled, finishing out her level of tetris with perfect accuracy. She clicked off the phone before she could get suckered in. “Tucker, have you considered any good names? At all?”
Fair revenge was fair revenge, and Tucker didn’t want to waste his own pillow on vengeance. Using Sam’s bamboo-woven pillowcase against her facemask was fair game— and her shriek of rage over the smeared facemask was just desserts.
Tucker eventually lost, of course, smothered underneath the very same pillow he’d assaulted his friend with, but hey; he’d given it his all, and that was what mattered in the end.
Winning would be nice, though. You know. One day.
In the meantime, though, they were squatting in Sam’s greenhouse, reclining on air mattresses on recycled wooden palettes. It was kind of cold— Tucker was glad Sam had thought ahead and brought blankets— but there were no bugs, and there was no rain, even if there were frogs singing bleakly outside glass walls throughout the night.
Sam was good at pretending it didn’t bother her.
Tucker knew it had to, though. Sam was used to having things. Being comfortable. Having her bamboo toothbrush and toothpaste tabs at the ready, with her natural fiber blankets and her desktop computer and a credit card that would solve the majority of her problems.
Instead they had used the cheapest versions of everything at the dollarstore. Abrasive discount soap. Deodorant with added aluminum. They’d brushed their teeth at the spigot where the hose screwed on, and tomorrow they’d wash with the hose the same way.
Card could be traced. Tucker was the only one who’d been carrying cash in the moment.
Man, Tucker thought, tunnelling himself under his blankets. Running away sucked. At least the only thing Tucker had to miss was his parents. And his spare parts.
…He hoped his parents weren’t looking for him. The "proper authorities" had probably already informed them he was infected. They should…they should hopefully know that being gone was safer than being there.
Sam’s black-nailed thumb and green-coated face peeked at him from under the covers. Without his glasses, she mostly looked like a blob, so Tucker just waved. He wanted to be social. He wanted to be happy.
It felt like everything was falling apart through his fingers, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.
“Hey,” Sam said. “If you want to charge your tech, I’m out of the plug.”
It was a sweet gesture. “Thanks,” was all Tucker could say. But he didn’t want to leave his cave.
Sam, of all people, knew what level of trust the gesture meant when Tucker gave his phone over to her. She didn’t say anything, but she didn’t have to; it was the same level of trust Sam was showing to him by letting them stay here, together, instead of apart, the way Jazz had originally planned.
Running away properly would have been safer. But here, in this moment, they were warm, and safe, and somewhat fed.
Tucker stuck his face into his pillow and thought It doesn’t get much better than this.
…Man, it was supposed to be roast beef dinner tonight. He was missing out!
“...I still think that Technowizard is a cool name,” Tucker grumbled to himself. Sam shot him a fond, if exasperated look.
“No.”
“Fine, bossy. What did you pick?”
“Foxglove,” Sam replied simply. “Most famous poisonous plant in the Western world. It’s poetic.”
Tucker thought on it. It…had merit, but… “You know people are going to shorten it to Foxy, right?”
Sam paused.
…She set her phone down with clear disgust. “Ugh. I hate that you’re right.”
“I’ll never let you down,” Tucker offered, very seriously. “I’m always right.”
Sam pulled the blanket back down over him until he squawked in indignation.
“Okay,” Sam’s voice came in muffled through their blanket barrier. “Maybe we can both hold off on names until we decide how we’re doing this, exactly.”
This, of course, being their new life on the run— ideally, taking down the GIW and their hold on Amity Park, or in the short run, cutting and ditching in every effort to not get captured. Their plan so far wasn’t much better than “wait for Danny to get home from Space Camp”, but, you know…needs are as they must. Or something.
“How about Cryptid?” Tucker offered, poking his head out of his blanket hovel. His glasses were…somewhere, but no matter where he groped for them, his hands still came up empty. “Short. Simple. Lots of hard consonants. Easy to muddy up in an internet search with other information. They’d be looking for you and find, like, the Entfield Horror.”
Sam gave that thought its due while Tucker found his glasses. “It’s…better than Inviso-Bill for sure.”
Okay, that one was worth the laugh.
“You could try Technomage,” Sam tried out in turn. "It would be like naming a snake 'snake', since you’re going through magical puberty or whatever, but…”
Tucker snorted. Magical puberty.
…But.
She’d been the first to notice when Tucker hadn’t even needed to touch Edna (PDA of the month) to write her new programs in class. She’d taped over his stylus to prove it to him— and Tucker hadn’t even noticed with the weight of a phantom stylus in his hand as he coded telepathically. Realizing he hadn’t been tapping any of the buttons had been. Spooky.
His phone didn’t need a SIM card anymore. He was saving his family a lot on outgoing and ingoing calls, apparently, and the reported number of texts they’d had to pay for was a big fat goose egg.
Also, he was pretty sure someone was emailing him at the moment.
…He wasn’t sure how he knew. But. It kind of tasted like blue raspberry. It was probably Danny’s sister.
So. Um. the magical puberty thing hadn’t been too off track. It had certainly been less subtle than Sam’s newfound ability to speak with plants, but…at least talking to your flowerpots looks normal from the outside looking in.
Apparently lawn mowing day at school gave Sam real trauma, though. Finding her in the nurses’ office with her head buried under her denim jacket had been scary.
“Better than nothing,” Tucker begrudgingly agreed. He left his glasses wherever they were; he’d find them in the morning. “I mean. We technically don’t even need names. If we just start breaking their stuff, they’ll probably name us anyway.”
Sam laughs. The green on her face is gone; she likely wiped her mask off when Tucker couldn’t see. “With you hacking their stuff?”
“And you growing your freaky vines out of their gear,” Tucker added. “The…what’s the one. The one that ate that one house?”
Sam leans her head down onto Tucker’s mattress. Her clean, damp face swims into view. “Oh. The kudzu?”
“Uh huh.”
“Yeah, I can cultivate that— not here, since it grows so fast. Did you know Kudzu’s supposed to be eaten? People usually take it off the roadside in China for an easy food source. That’s why it overtakes so much stuff here: there’s no one taking on the role of its natural predator.”
Huh. Well, sounded like something Sam would know. Tucker wedged his pillow further underneath his head; Sam’s still had some goop on it, so he gave her his extra blanket instead.
Sam stuffed it underneath her head with no issue. Without her purple lip and filled in brows, she just looked like Sam— just like a girl in his class, who wanted to make the world a better place, and didn’t know how to do it.
Tucker wanted to do better too.
But they wouldn’t do it alone. They’d be better off with Danny than without.
“All we have to do is make it until Danny comes back. And then we can reconvene.”
…And then what?
“And then?” Tucker asked, a little too quiet.
Sam had never backed down from a challenge. She never would. “And then we kick ass.”
Well. When she said that, it was all so simple.
The lights clicked out in the greenhouse, and just in time— the outside started to burst with light and sound as agents tore up the road outside the Manson property.
The door was locked. The daisies at the door and the wispy strings-of-hearts would give them more than enough warning if the agents swept through.
It was bedtime, or good enough as.
Sleep wasn’t restful, but the quality of the night didn’t matter; it only had to get them to the next day.
#phic phight 2024#danny phantom#Phic phight#tucker foley#Sam Manson#ambiguous timeline when they're on the run from the GIW! 🎉#Danny's fine he's just out of town#'where' space camp. he's on a break#giw as a bad guy with local regulatory power#fill
271 notes
·
View notes
Text
When camping with your best friend (with benefits) doesn't go to plan
NSFW smut · block & don't read if you're uncomfortable · reader gives a bj, cursing · wc: 1139 · requested
Your phone vibrated in your hands, you shifted your gaze down to it to find a text from your best friend.
come to my tent
there's no one here atm
A small smile found its way across your lips, you wasted no time in hurrying out of your tent and down to where Riki's was pitched.
Some of the boys invited you and other mutual friends to go on a short camping trip with them out in the woods, you were ecstatic over the fact it meant getting to spend more time with your favourite person, Riki.
"Took you long enough," The said boy teased as you unzipped the opening to his tent and threw yourself inside, while simultaneously shushing him by placing your finger across your lips. You made sure to close the entry back up.
"The others left to go on a walk, my baby, there's no one here," He spoke, his deep voice was tainted by firey excitement, yet it was still hushed and cautious. The tone of his voice was music to your ears.
The pet name caused you to erupt into quiet giggles as you crawled over to him on all fours before settling on his lap, straddling his thighs. The both of you shared a swift look, nothing but soft smiles filled the tight, dark space.
You wasted no time in closing the few inches that were left between the two of you. Your stomach erupted into an array of butterflies as you engulfed his soft, plump lips with your own. Your lips danced against one another's. Goodness you loved the feeling of his lips, no one else's could compare or even come close to how good his pillowy ones felt against you. You could've stayed making out with him like that all night.
His touchy hands only added to your butterflies.
Riki's smile broke the kiss for a split moment as he breathlessly spoke against your swollen, red tinted lips, "What if I invited you over to talk? You're so needy,"
He pulled your bottom lip between his teeth, eliciting a quiet, high-pitched moan from your throat that drove him wild. He loved the noises you'd make, even more so considering he was the only one who got to hear those heavenly sounds of yours.
You could feel him growing harder and harder under his sweat pants, and although the feeling of him against your clothed core was making you feel lightheaded, you successfully fought the urge to grind down onto him. You had a different plan in mind for your best friend that evening.
Riki watched you carefully with a raised eyebrow as you climbed off him, a tender look settled in his eyes. You kneeled beside his large body as he laid back and propped himself up on his elbows. Feeling more playful than usual, you began to fiddle with the waistband of his sweat pants, salivating when you noticed he only had sweats on.
"Baby, please," Riki almost whined, which only turned you on even more, "Please do something,"
You smiled to yourself as you watched his twitching bulge, proud of how hard you've managed to get him by barely even doing anything. A string of hushed curses escaped his lips as you palmed him through the gray fabric.
"..I'm already close," Riki groaned, sounding like he was disappointed. You chuckled in reply before you ever so slightly pulled his sweat pants down, finally revealing all of him.
You placed a few soft pecks on the sensitive skin, followed by some kitten licks. After licking up the shaft, you proceeded to take the entirety of his length into your warm, more than welcoming mouth. You sigh in content. He sucks in a breath, the vibrations only adding to his dizziness. He could've sworn he saw stars.
"Oh my fuck, y/n," His hips bucked upwards mere seconds later, his member perfectly hitting the back of your throat, "J-just like that,"
After a few minutes of Riki squirming underneath you, you decided to give your mouth a quick break as you continued the job with your hands. You knew exactly how he liked it best.. and boy did you do your best for him. Riki's head fell backwards at the sight of your small hands wrapped around him, sticky and wet. His chest tightened with every kiss you left on his tip.
"And to think you called me the needy one," You chuckled quietly as you played with him against your tongue,
"I will never not be needy for you," His eyes shut, his eyebrows twisted in pleasure. He was in such a state of pure bliss he could barely choke out coherent sentences.
"Y/n.. I-I'm gonna cum,"
What did I do to deserve having him like this for me?
"It's okay, let go for me," You reassured Riki before taking him back inside. The wet warmth made his abs tense up for what might've been the fiftieth time underneath his thin, white tee.
"F-fuck.. Fuck," One of his hands found its way into your hair, gripping the strands tightly between his fingers. He helped guide your head as it bobbed on him.
As Riki coated the inside of your mouth, you made sure to swallow every last sticky drop while maintaining eye contact with him. He looked so prettily fucked out, the sight had you squeezing your thighs together.
Mustering up all the energy he had left within himself, Riki sat up and went straight back for your lips, his grip in your hair not budging. He could taste himself on your tongue.
"Are y'all done yet..?"
Your jaw fell open at the sound of the familiar voice that came from outside the tent.. That was Jay.
You stared at Riki, your eyes wide. He stared back at you just as shocked as his hand fell from your hair, he was still trying to catch his breath. The panting boy immediately pulled his sweats up, his lips pursed, holding back a laugh.
"Did they hear us?" You mouthed, he shrugged in reply.
Your hand flew to your face, covering your mouth as you tried to not make any further noises. Riki's eyes focused on the entry to the tent.
"I'm already close~" What sounded like Jake's mocking voice was heard next, you gasped quietly.
"How long have yous been out there!?" Riki shouted, your body fell forwards across his as your cheeks flushed red. His long arms wrapped around your figure, you couldn't help but laugh against his torso.
"We didn't want to interrupt.. Now stop sucking dick and come out here to eat proper food," Another one of the boys added which had caused Riki to quietly start laughing with you.
You spent the rest of that night hiding your face as the boys continued to crack jokes non-stop.
#enhypen smut#ni-ki smut#enhypen ni-ki#riki smut#enhypen imagines#enhypen hard hours#ni-ki#enha#enha x reader#ni-ki imagines#riki-dazed
674 notes
·
View notes
Text
love like a blister
the five stages of loving losing luke
a ‘partners in crime’ installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader
words: 4.7k
summary: (post-tlt) set directly after lovers, or partners in crime; The one where you learn to mourn someone even if they're still alive. Loving him and losing him are one and the same; the aftermath of his betrayal. this work references a lot of previous works in the series! (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)
a/n: yeah… yall been asking for this so buckle up. luke is not present in this one, moreso you/trouble dealing with the after. i let annabeth breakdown a bit since ep 8 was amazing but felt choppy to me. this is not the end of the trouble!verse i promise!!
(posted 2/12/24, betaed by mootie lari @mrsaluado)
—
DENIAL - bursting under pressure
we grew up together, what do you mean you grew into a person i can’t love?
Annabeth and Percy find you standing at the edge of the forest clearing—staring at the space where you let the love of your life vanish into thin air.
You let him leave.
It’s almost harrowing when the three of you make eye contact, not a single weapon in your possession, only your dying lantern and heart bleeding with the confirmation of Luke’s betrayal.
Knees shaking as Annabeth stalks over and her sword still raised with tears in her eyes, she’s no longer Luke’s little sister but a formidable warrior set on protecting camp—on protecting Percy.
And you failed in doing either of those things you promised yourself at the beginning of this summer because you ignored the signs of Luke’s behavior— until this very moment. There’s a pressure in your head that dampens your senses, overtaking the control you have over your being as you deny any knowledge of what happened tonight.
Because in truth, you put the pieces together at the same time they did, just a little too late. She looks at you now with the fury she wasn’t able to project on the real traitor.
“You knew,” she grits her teeth, on the defensive as Percy scrambles up from the ground.
“Annie, I…”
Percy stares at you in horror, a few steps back with Riptide in his injured grasp, and suddenly he understands what it means to see you break. They both feel it instantly as your lantern goes out. Heavy despair drapes over all of you as the madness rips its way through your body, almost breaking through your skin as it emanates through the air. The two children had never felt anything like it before, swords shaking in their hands as they’re filled with the sensation until it bubbles over and they can’t do anything but watch you, their usually poised head counselor lose your grip on reality.
But this can’t be real.
Out of all of the plans you both made, it was never deemed a possibility that Luke wouldn’t be there with you. Now you stand in the darkness of the forest, hands raised in surrender to a crime you didn’t commit.
There’s so much pressure and it hurts holding it all in, hurts so badly—everywhere until you scream.
“DAD!”
You stare at their small faces surrounding you in anguish, both of them talking but not a single word registers in your mind as you keep shaking your head and screaming for your father for the first time in your life. Before the words the words can form between your lips again Dionysus is there, not as an immortal god but carrying the wrath of a protective father, and there are no forces that can fight against that.
It all moves fast from there, black spots blurring your vision brought by the sheer strength of your tears. Though you don’t feel strong right now, instead there’s nothing that can describe the feeling but hurt as you’re frozen in pain.
The kids watch Mr. D check you for any injuries, but what they’ll never understand is that the wounds Luke left behind are on the inside, and you are bleeding. He shushes you, but the words fight their way out of your mouth, almost in disbelief.
“Did I do that to him?”
Your father scoops you into his arms, godly strength and fatherly concern surfacing as he cradles you like a little girl like he should have all those years ago.
The haze clears as Mr. D quells the misery that reverberates through the air and it’s quiet again as your eyes fall shut. For a moment, Percy can’t help but wonder if this is another performance of yours, another way to throw him off of the traitor’s scent. But as your hand falls out from under Mr. D’s arm, he grabs onto it anyway. The son of Poseidon remembers how you and Luke always looked at each other like you were equals, and realizes that for once, the actress was outplayed at her own game.
ANGER - words leaking like an abscess
i never knew loving someone so much would be a crime
There isn’t a protocol set in place for when one of your cabin counselors and all-star campers defects with plans to wage war on the gods. There is even less of a precedent set in place for when the head counselor and daughter of the camp director is left to pick up the pieces, hands dirtied by the evidence he left behind. Perhaps your job description was never truly clear anyway.
All you know now is that you’ve been sitting in a rickety wooden chair in your dad’s office for hours now, tied up—for formalities.
This must be your punishment from the gods for every way you were different. Maybe if you were braver, maybe if you didn’t force yourself to only see the good in him, maybe then maybe, he could’ve been saved too. Surely undoing all of that would be considerably less painful than being questioned by everyone you love about the one you love.
For once you didn’t have any good answers.
“Like I said to Chiron. I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t know what? Use your big girl words. Just do the right thing, like you always say!” Clarisse barks in your face. The centaur tuts at the daughter of Ares, making her step back and cross her arms. The boys are more silent but still suspicious, and Lee asks if you really thought Clarisse was the traitor.
“I didn’t. I was the last one to know,” you grit, looking at Percy who surveys you with hesitant eyes, “I just thought Luke was leaving. I didn’t know why.”
“How do we know you’re not working for Kronos too?”
One of them says it, you’re losing track as to who when you blink hard and long, but the words spill out of you like a festering wound— fast, acidic, and painful.
“Do you REALLY think I could turn my back on my home? My friends? Is that how you all think of me? After everything!”
“You’d do anything for that boy and we all know it,” Silena says with a scowl very unlike her, though you suppose everyone’s out of sorts from exhaustion.
“Not that. That’s where him and I are different. I would never be able to do that.”
You think you hear Silena bite back a sob as she turns away from you, not meeting your eyes.
Mr. D was unable to judge you since you were his only daughter. He’s been gone most of the night and you feel so alone even if the room is filled with familiar faces that don’t even want you here. Charles, Percy, Lee, Clarisse, Silena, Katie stand still as they judge you— Annabeth didn’t even come to the Big House, her mind probably already made up.
Chiron says there will be a vote, the procedural way—like how you taught the cabin counselors how to handle disagreements, though they were never expecting to vote on your dismissal from camp. Tensions are high, some rightfully angry at the war looming over your heads, others looking at you with pity from the other corner of the room. All of them, your friends, still, you hope.
6 votes, since you and Luke didn’t count, and Annabeth’s abstention. They did it outside, away from your view and you sit in the silence of the office, angry at what’s become of you. Tainted and tarnished, you don’t bother to find out who voted what, knowing things won’t be the same after this.
Your dad comes back a little before dawn, having asked a favor from Apollo to determine your innocence–to prove that you’re telling the truth. But by then, Charles and Lee are already untying you from your chair and you’re being let go. You wonder what changed once they were able to speak without being in your presence. Remaining seated and staring at all of them with your jaw set in stone-cold wrath, Percy thinks for a moment that you look like Luke.
The first rays of light shine through the window upon your sullen frame— a confirmation from the sun god that your heart was always pure. It still feels like a loss. There’s no medal or award for getting left behind, and winning has always been more of Luke’s thing.
You resign from the position of head counselor by the time sunlight spreads across the campgrounds.
BARGAINING - to make yourself new from the inside out
isn’t home the first place you learn to run from?
You catch Percy at the doorstep of cabin 3 before he leaves and your dad is yelling at all the campers.
“Okay! For those of you who are not staying for the full term… get out! You get out. Pack your bags. You’re going home!” Mr. D screams with a twinkle in his eye as he winks at you, patting you on the head before walking away to drive kids out.
“Didn’t think you’d be up,” he mumbles, adjusting his backpack over his shoulder. You’d been locked up in your room since the interrogation with almost no signs of life. He was worried about you—all of them were. They just didn’t know how to say it, after everything.
You stood in front of him in sweatpants and a shirt he’s sure he’s seen Luke wear to sleep before, exhaustion prominent on your face; usually you’re better at hiding it, but there’s no need for false pretenses anymore.
“Last day of camp. Had to end it on a good note,” you say softly, biting your lip, “I heard about what you did, Perce. You didn’t have to. I was going to quit anyway.”
Sometime in the past few days, Chiron came to your cabin to tell you they didn’t vote at all, which was a surprise to you. Percy convinced them not to, reminding them of your efforts as head counselor, and as a friend—the decision was settled quickly after that.
“I knew you didn’t betray us. I was just scared.”
You watch him shift his weight, not losing eye contact as he produces a half-smile. He seems older now after his quest, as many demigods do–though it’s only been a few weeks, he looks like he’s grown more sure of himself.
“That’s okay. I was too.”
The silence between you is comfortable as both of you listen to the birds in the trees, the distant voices of chattering children, and your heart hurts at the idea of leaving this, even temporarily. As your eyes flicker back to Percy’s, you realize he feels the same way.
“I hope your mom’s okay, especially after all of this. I just wanted to say goodbye.”
His sandy eyebrows furrow and it’s funny how Percy always looks a little confused.
“You’re leaving camp? I thought…”
“Well I’m not joining Kronos, if that’s what you’re worried about,” you laugh dryly, “It’s getting boring here. Gonna have to change it up soon, I think. See you.” you nod, waving a hand as you turn to walk away.
“Wait!”
Percy calls your name, skipping down the steps of his cabin and meeting you halfway down the forest path. He’s digging through his jacket pocket, and pulls out two black clay beads with blue tridents etched on the surface as your body grows cold.
“I don’t know what to do with—”
“We…the other counselors, this is what we ended up voting on. And I thought you should get an extra, just in case,” Percy mumbles, his voice edged with hope and your face contorts into something like regret. You can’t cry again, even if you wanted to.
“I wouldn’t pray for something like that,” you whisper shakily.
“I thought you didn’t really pray at all.”
The kid smiles at you and it makes you wonder what souls like him and Luke must’ve done in their previous lives to deserve fates like this—to fight wars that aren’t their own. To be doomed by the narrative is a treacherous thing, and it is so utterly unfair.
“Yeah. That was more his style,” you sniff, taking the beads out of his hand, “but I still find myself with a lot of hope.”
Hope, in a sense, is prayer too. Wishing that things will be better, manifesting and believing that it doesn’t have to end this way. You don’t think Luke will ever come home to you, not really, not all of him, but it’s nice to have something to hang onto. At his core, he was raised to be a soldier, and soldiers don’t always come home.
You decide to drive Percy down the opposite shore to Montauk. It’s a short ride, and he spends the time looking out the window to the sea, thinking of his father— when the car pulls up to the driveway of the beach house, you step out and give him a hug. Soon, he’ll be taller than you.
“Take care of yourself, okay? Need anything and I’m a call away,” you smile, but he sees that it doesn’t reach your eyes.
“Thank you. For being a real friend, even if it hurts you.”
You grab his shoulder to make him look at you, and the distant sound of crashing waves dampens the thoughts running through your head.
“Listen to me. None of this is your fault. I couldn’t save him. Luke’s my biggest failure.”
Your voice wavers and you swallow hard, pushing the tears back down your throat.
“You know, I knew you didn’t know anything about his betrayal because when we were in the forest, I’d never seen you like that before. I couldn’t figure out the feeling, and–”
“I’m sorry you had to see me like that, Perce. I couldn’t hold it in anymore,” you interrupt, but he shakes his head and continues.
“I thought you were sad. It felt like sadness at first, but then I realized it was hatred. And I knew even then that I could never hate you. So I realized that’s how you felt about yourself. I hope someday you don’t feel that way anymore.”
If a few tears slip down your cheeks, Percy doesn’t pay it any mind. He waves at you when he gets to the door.
DEPRESSION - healing takes thick skin
i knew to love would be to lose my mind
After the summer term ended, you spent most of it in bed, hiding away from the world. You wished to be more spontaneous, to up and leave the safe boundaries of the camp you call home, but you’re not quite there yet. The one good thing about this is your father. Dionysus was at your bedside every morning and night between the work him and Chiron had to do to keep camp running in your absence. His powerful fingers made themselves comfortable stroking your hair as you always find yourself staring at nothing. Your father cured you of what he thought was madness over your life being turned upside down by someone you love, but after the fog cleared, you were left feeling nothing. Numb to the touch, hardened by your hurt like a growing callous.
Impenetrable.
He thinks it’s bittersweet, getting to know you better as you chat late into the night when you can’t sleep, but it breaks his own heart to have the power of Olympus on his side and still not be able to fix you. He knows now what you must have been feeling these past few months, to some extent.
“Sometimes, I wonder if I’m dead already,” you mutter as your eyes stare blankly at the glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling. Your dad is sitting at your desk as he signs paperwork, and his eyes flicker to a pinned photo on you wall of you kissing Luke’s cheek in a photobooth. One of the pins is missing a memory, torn and stolen away.
“Unfortunately, you’re not that lucky. I carried you out of that forest, I’d know,” he mutters, sipping on his Diet Coke.
“Will it always hurt like this? Losing someone you…” Love.
You can barely even bring yourself to say it, so he sighs and nudges you to move over on the bed, his Hawaiian shirt an eyesore against your bedspread. It makes your lips quirk up to see the god try to fit himself into a full-size as he adjusts to get comfortable.
“Yes. Because if it hurts, it means that it mattered. There is no such thing as love lost if you gave it willingly. You know, your mother and I were never together, but I loved her too.”
He tucks the duvet under your chin like he’s worried you’ll catch a chill. Your form is still unmoving under the covers as he continues.
“Love is a powerful catalyst. The actions humans do after are a product of that; it brings out the best or the worst in people, especially if you think it’s the only way. You love because you want more time with them. You love someone to life, not to death.”
“Silena said something at the Big House. She said that everyone knew I would do anything for him. Where does that leave me? What do I do now?”
Your eyes shut as you feel your dad grab your hand and he chuckles lowly. He knows a thing or two of doing anything for love. He’s gone to the underworld and back—twice, for his mother Semele and his true love, Ariadne. And he’d do it again for you, if he ever had to. “You’re not broken, kid. You’re in love. It’s the purest emotion the gods have bestowed onto humans, and it is a gift, even if it doesn’t work out. Love is insanity. I think you and I know it best.”
“I guess I’m a lot more like you than I like to admit,” you scoff, leaning against his arm.
“Don’t sound so excited, daughter of mine,” he says playfully, and he seems so human now as he laughs. The two of you have a gift of fixing people, but perhaps you were both blind to who needed it the most until this very moment. Sitting there in the quiet a little longer, it doesn’t feel so bad to be the favorite daughter of Dionysus. Maybe when you’re ready to get out of these walls, you’ll be able to say it with pride.
ACCEPTANCE - to be soft again takes strength
in another life, we would’ve mattered more than choosing sides
“He always hated it when you smoked, you know.”
You cough through a puff, boots slightly slipping in the sleet of the gravel driveway as you turn to face Annabeth. Besides the fact that her father’s house is grander than anything you could ever imagine yourself living in, there’s a large distance between the two of you as she stands on the steps, the box you left on the doorstep slowly being dotted with falling snow. You left the car running, thinking she wouldn’t want to see you after everything that’s happened.
“Well he probably hates a lot of things about me now,” you say grimly.
It’s been a growing habit to want to feel something, the rush of nicotine through your bloodstream—even if it’s bound to rip years off your life. It doesn’t really matter as much anymore.
I hate a lot of things about me too, you think, remembering a white house on a hill even if it was a distant dream— these thoughts all go up in smoke as you watch her sit down on the stoop waiting for you to come sit down with her.
Your hands fidget as you find a place next to her, putting out the cigarette on the red brick as the ash falls onto your chipped nail polish. It burns, but Annabeth watches you, the both of you stone-faced.
“What made you drive all the way out here?”
She opens the box and tries to hide a shaky breath at it’s contents but the vapor in the air betrays her. You can still tell a thing or two about people acting, but you’re never too sure anymore.
“I got a few days off from class. Dad Iris messaged me, told me there were new kids in 11 who needed bunks, so… he thought it was time. It was sitting in my room when I got there.” She notices you call Mr. D your dad now, but doesn’t say much of it. She’s also getting used to calling her father that after all these years.
You pull out the quilt you gave Luke the night before you got claimed, a faded pink and purple pattern worn from the years of use and wrap it around her shoulders. It still smells like him, citrus and musk and something darker that hangs over your heads and she sniffles.
“So you’re a college girl now, huh? Never thought you’d do it,” Annabeth mumbles, still not looking at you as her eyes scan through what was hidden underneath the fabric. Luke never had much he held close to his heart, and it’s funny to think his two prized possessions were staring down into a box trying to find the meaning of it all.
“Yeah, me neither,” you sigh. It should’ve been an insult, but you know what she means.
Not without him.
There’s a lot that you promised each other, but you find yourself doing it all alone–because you have to. The world does not wait for for anyone, even if you beg for it to.
“It’s not a big deal, I’m still on the Island, just…not at home. Just trying to keep myself busy.”
Her hand picks up a polaroid of the two of them—he’s smiling as she peers over his shoulder.
“I think it’s great. You’re too hard on yourself sometimes.”
Other memories are scattered in the box including a leather bracelet, a compass, unsent letters to his mom, and photos of happier days back when all of your hearts were softer. There’s not much to split between the two of you.
A black clay bead rolls to the inner corner, indicative of this year’s events and painted with turquoise like the eyes of a certain son of Poseidon that now crosses the both of your minds.
“Percy gave it to me before he left for the city, for him. In case.”
You swallow loudly, and you watch her braid it onto the leather cord and tie it around your wrist. Her fingertips are cold as she nods, “In case.”
“You’ve been looking for him, haven’t you?” The movement your head makes is almost imperceptible—not a nod nor a shake, but the daughter of Athena knows you too well by now. She knows you because Luke did too, once upon a time.
“Think I’m trying to find myself now. If he’s still a part of that I don’t know what that says about me.”
The two of you sit there on the stoop of the Chase mansion catching up on the past 7 months even if the both of you can still feel the wall of his memory between you. She doesn’t invite you in to meet her family despite the weather—hesitant to let her mother’s side of life bleed into the new normal she’s created for herself, and you can’t blame her one bit. The both of you have been at war with each other and with yourselves since the end of the summer, when in reality you both know what it’s like to protect the little you have to hang onto and what it feels like to be left behind. Survival mode, until the end.
“Why do you think he did it? I mean, I know why, but…”
Why weren’t we enough?
Annabeth’s mind has always been so brilliant, but sitting in the dim porchlight, you understand now that she’s growing up so quickly. Gone are her baby-soft cheeks, with her cheekbones more prominent as they frame her wise eyes. She’s a teenager now. But Annabeth looks at you like she did long ago, the only person besides Luke who would patiently answer all of her questions. Even if the answers weren’t always what she wanted, you had a way of telling her what she needed to hear.
“I think I’ll be asking the gods why for the rest of my life. And even if they ignore me like they did him, or give me an answer that’s worth the balance of the world, I’ll still never be able to understand it.”
The snow is falling harder now, but neither of you seem to notice. It’s stuck in your hair, dusting your eyelashes as you sit and stare out at the front lawn. She tells you about school, her family, Percy and Grover, and the things you’ve missed about her so deeply—and for a moment you feel like you can be her older sister again, someone who can keep her secrets. Partially, you left home because everyone either doubted you or thought you as fragile. Annabeth always tells you what she’s truly thinking— it’s a breathe of fresh air to let yourself just be.
“I’ve never not had the last word when it comes to him, y’know? I guess I have nothing more to say though.”
You both huddle together for warmth under the quilt, sharing secrets and memories of him, things others wouldn’t understand.
“You know that’s not true,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes, and her smile is as bright as the snowflakes in her ebony tresses.
“What I do know is that you know too damn much,” and you both start giggling softly, teary eyed and feeling what you’ve been keeping in for months now, from each other and the rest of the world.
“I’m sorry,” she mutters suddenly, and your name falling from Annabeth’s mouth sounds almost as unfamiliar as her apologizing. It shouldn’t have to have been like this. You’re not going to lose the only person who remembers him like you do, who hurts like you.
“Me too.”
She leans her head on your shoulder like how she would when you used to sing her to sleep, and deep down Annabeth knows that she won’t let the only good part of her brother go either. What tore the two of you apart brings you back together, because if you don’t have him you still have each other.
The door to the estate opens up slowly, it’s well-oiled hinges silent like the two sad girls’ whispers. Dr. Chase steps out to see you two illuminated by the light of his home, hand in hand over a box of memories and wrapped in a pink and purple quilt that Annabeth will hold close to her like she does her mother’s hat.
“You two ladies causing trouble?” he smiles, his eyes wild with a thirst to know more and it’s a look you’ve seen his daughter give you one too many times.
You can’t help but chuckle at the irony and though he means well, the all-consuming feeling that comes with the name, Luke’s name for you– ignites in your heart once more. No one will ever call you trouble again, not in the way he did. It burns like alcohol running through your veins almost unendurable and you want to will it away, but Annie’s patting your arm as she tries to stifle the flames with her cold fingers.
“Her?” she says knocking her shoulder against yours, “ Always.”
Annabeth laughs, and that too, reminds you of him but it doesn’t hurt as much anymore, your body still warm in the winter Virginia air. You feel your chest shake and suddenly you’re laughing and it’s crazy and loud and maniacal and so you that you can barely see Annabeth through the tears rolling down your cheeks. It cuts around the dead skin that’s encapsulated your being these past few months, revealing something brand new—much softer, even if it’s still tender to the touch.
It’s still you, still hurting, but choosing to live despite it.
Because you have to.
—
“Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever had to do. Being loved by you is the hardest.“
- Ari B. Cofer
luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings
#luke castellan x dionysus!reader#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan angst#pjo x reader#percy jackon and the olympians#made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse#thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
705 notes
·
View notes
Text
Guarded Hearts
Alright friends, this is my first fic and it is an Azriel x Reader, this is my first one and maybe there will be a second part but that’s up to you guys.
POV: you find out Azriel’s you mate but you start getting the could shoulder from him after he returns from a mission.
A/N: Like I said part one of probably 2, y’all let me know.
You couldn’t take it anymore, you just needed to get away. You found out that Azriel was your mate about 2 months ago, it didn’t shock you at all because you’ve loved this man your whole life. What you couldn’t stand was how much he had been ignoring you and giving you the cold shoulder.
You were in an official meeting with the inner circle when the bond snapped for you. Rhys had been talking about the uprising in some of the camps and how they would need to go and sort it out, they as in Cassian and Azriel. When Rhys had said one of the uprising camps was the one you grew up in both you and Azriel tensed although you didn’t note his reaction at first because in the tense emotions of thinking of back home, that’s when the bond snapped for you.
You thought maybe Azriel felt it too but you couldn’t be sure. You thought the bond would be this warm feeling in your chest but it just felt cold and distant. You would have to check with Rhys to see if that’s how he felt after he found out Fayre was his mate.
After the meeting Cassian and Azriel left immediately for their respective camps, Azriel going to the one you grew up in where your father and mother still lived. Luckily your mom was friends with Rhys mother from a young age so you were able to keep your wings and not get clipped but that didn’t save you from the full extent of your fathers wrath. That was a reason you were so scared for Azriel to go, he knew the whole history of how your father had treated you, the beatings and public humiliation being the smaller transgressions. Azriel had walked out of Rhys’ office so quickly after they were dismissed that you weren’t able to get a word in, you said your goodbyes and be safe to Cassian and when you went to find Azriel you found Mor instead.
“He already left lovey.” Mor said with a sad smile. You knew that her using that pet name for you wasn’t a good sign and that she could probably tell what was going through your mind. You ran away before she could get a word in otherwise because the tears would fall.
Everyone left you alone for the month Azriel was gone sensing that there was something going on and that if you wanted to talk about you would find them. Fayre tried talking to you but you shut her out immediately.
When Azriel and Cassian got back you were in the dinning room enjoying some breakfast, as they passed by you Azriel didn’t even look at you and Cassian gave you a weak smile. You tried to feel down the bond but there was absolutely nothing, just cold and dark, it made your heart break.
Over the next few weeks you were thinking that giving Azriel space would be the answer and that he’d be coming to join you in either training or in the library for a night cap like he used to do so often before the bond snapped for you. There was nothing, you never ran into him even though you could hear his foot steps throughout the house as if the house wanted you to know where he was. There were also times when you’d see some of his shadows lurking about, some would come right up to you as if you were their master and swirl under your hair and around your neck. Maybe they were here on his behalf and maybe they’d report back to him, you didn’t know and tried not to care.
Once a month hit from his return of your home camp you needed to get out, get away, it was all too much. You found yourself outside of Rhys’s office at the river house once your mind was made up.
“Are you sure you want to go away for that long?” He had asked you.
“I want the same thing that was given to Fayre, time up in the cabin alone and sheilded so that no one knows I’m there. I need a break” Your eyes had a pleading look in them with a tinge of heartbreak too.
“When do you want to leave” Rhys said sighing in disbelief. The house of Wind has been your home for many years, and he didn’t think that any of the jobs he’s given you were so strenuous that you needed to be away from your family.
“I’m ready to go now, I packed my bags before I came to see you. And I want Mor to take me, if you take me there will be too many questions.”
Surprised at you readiness to leave he agreed and got in touch with Mor, she appeared almost instantaneously making you think she was just outside listening in. “Ready to go lovey?” She had asked, you nodded your head too afraid of speaking just in case your voice broke. “Then off we go.”
You arrived at the cabin up in the wilderness within a moment and when you walked in and saw all the artwork, you wanted to cry. Having your family all around you while being so far away brought you some comfort but not much. You looked to where the eyes were and found Azriel’s right away.
“Do you need anything, want me to stay for a bit?” Mor asked breaking you out of your trance.
“No I think I’m good, just need to be away from everything, everyone.” You said trying to add a laugh in at the end but the sound was strained and laced with pain.
“Who’s ass do I have to beat, because I don’t care who it is, I’ll beat them up for you. Just give me a name.” Mor tried to get you to laugh but a look in your eyes showed that it was a love problem and although she didn’t know about the bond you have to Azriel, she does know that you’ve had a crush on him for centuries. “Maybe, he’ll realize what was missing since it’s not in front of him anymore.” She said with a weak smile.
You returned the smile and with sad eyes responded “Yeah, maybe.” And without saying goodbye she left knowing that if you spoke anymore that might be your downfall and it would all come out.
Two weeks you had been up at the cabin in pure silence and peace. You brought some books with you in order to pass the time, not like you’d get bored but you were lonely. Rhys and more stayed true to their word so far and haven’t tried to visit or try and get through your mental shield, you also went as far to build a wall up to the bond, feeling nothing was better than feeling the coldness that it brought with it.
It was when you were picking out your next book that you saw it from the corner of your eye, a shadow, and the second it realized you had noticed it, it vanished. Your heart rate picked up because now you didn’t know what was going to happen but your rapid thoughts caused you to drop your shields and you felt worried beyond any understanding and then Rhys speaking into your mind “I’m so sorry”
#booklover#acotar#romance#all the tropes#azriel#azriel x reader#first post#please help#feedback please
453 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nest | Part 17
A Steddie A/B/O ficlet
It’d been a week.
An entire week since Steve had last seen Eddie. He’d holed up in his apartment, spent the majority of his forced holiday time curled up in bed, or camping out on the sofa watching reruns of bad television. Robin had told him mid-way through the week that they weren’t in trouble, Wayne Munson didn’t intend to press for any complaints or legal action, but she’d heard nothing from Eddie.
Steve wasn’t in trouble, Owens wasn’t in trouble, he already had his next shift lined up at the end of the following week, already a new patient on the books to be seen to although he swore to himself that he wouldn’t be remotely as hands on as he’d been with Eddie. He’d do the minimum just like everyone else, he’d be there when he was needed, would provide care as required, but that was it.
He’d already had two complaints from other tenants shoved under his door about the stench though. Depressed alpha wasn’t a good smell, for Steve, people compared it to mould spores. Like walking into a bakery after a month of it being closed, only nobody had taken the produce away leaving everything to rot.
And the smell spread.
It didn’t matter that the owner of the building had boasted proper padding and ventilation in the ‘Alpha Safe’ apartments before he’d moved in, the smell seeped into every single corner, settled into fabrics, snuck under the front door and out into the hallway. He wanted his Omega.
He didn’t even really know his omega, but he wanted him. He’d made promises, promises he couldn’t keep with Eddie so far away. Promises he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to keep and wasn’t that just a terrifying notion. Eddie was alone again. His heat would come again, he’d be alone for it, there was no way he’d be able to get a clinic trip for free again. Freebies happen once and only in dire situations, after that you have a month to sort yourself out an alpha to join you, or you’re on your own.
It didn’t matter if a week of that month was spent recovering from an unsuccessful heat, you had a month, and Steve was well aware of the ticking clock, he spent most of the time just, looking at it on the wall. Ticking away, precious minutes going by tick by tock. It was ridiculous, he’d barely thought about Eddie Munson for years until he walked into that clinic and all of a sudden he was all Steve could think about. He pined, he yearned, he ached to see him, to make sure he was okay, and yet he couldn’t make himself take that trip to the trailer park where he knew Eddie lived.
It was an invasion of privacy, he’d already broken most of the policies at Nest, he didn’t want to break the last one too, even if he didn’t get Eddie’s address from the database at the clinic, even if he already kind of knew where Eddie lived beforehand.
Eddie deserved his privacy, he deserved his space to heal, to figure out what’d happened on his own time, to get himself and his head clear, to—screw it.
Steve had waited an entire week, he was going to get himself up, get himself showered, dressed, apply patches to his scent glands, he was going to open his front door and— stop dead in place because stood there, with a hand raised, poised to knock, was one Eddie Munson, his big brown doe eyes wide in surprise. “Uhm…” Eddie dropped his hand “hey, Steve, can… can we talk?”
“Eddie…” he rocked forwards, hands flexing as if to reach out, only to catch himself at the last minute, releasing a pained little whine from his throat, he wanted to touch, wanted to hold, to bury his face into all that hair and just breathe he was so close, so, so very close and every inch of Steve’s very being screamed at him to pull Eddie closer, to hold him as tightly as possible and never let him go again, but he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he wasn’t allowed, he didn’t have permission, he didn’t—
“It’s okay, alpha… you can touch, it’s okay” the dam broke in an instant, the second those consenting words reached his ears, he was wrapping Eddie up in his arms and holding him as tightly as he could, face buried into the side of his neck, arms squeezing him tight, if he could get any closer, if they could merge into one being, he’d do it. “Christ, big boy” Eddie huffed into his shoulder, even as he curled his own arms around Steve, even as he buried his nose into the fabric of Steve’s sweater and breathed deeply, letting himself be held.
Steve whined, squeezing him to his chest, desperate to smell him, but unable to, the Omega had patches on, hiding his scent from the world. Fuck he hated those blasted little things. “How are you here?”
Eddie eased back, forcing Steve to loosen his grip just so Eddie could look at him face to face “Buckley came by the trailer… can… can we go inside?” Robin. You scheming, rule breaking, beautiful human being. “We can talk in the hallway if you want but I’d rather—”
“No! Yeah, uhm. Yes, come in, sorry.” He stepped aside, motioning with his hand to let Eddie in, if he could think about anything other than the fact that Eddie was there, maybe he’d have felt self-conscious, maybe he’d have worried about the mess that’d built from him just wallowing, but no, he was just glad Eddie was there. No longer drenched in the sweet smell of heat, but still everything Steve could ever want.
He was back to his old self, leather, ripped denim, his rings clunky on his fingers, he didn’t look like an omega and likely sure as hell didn’t act like one either.
He was still the most beautiful thing Steve had ever seen in his life. Maybe that was the rose tinted glasses, Steve didn’t care. Eddie was there, in his living room, making himself comfortable on the couch, seemingly uncaring about the smell.
“You can close the door, Steve, I’m okay.” Right, he’d been holding it open. He closed it, they were together. In the same room. Eddie had closed himself in with Steve voluntarily.
Honestly he could just cry. Eddie was there, he was safe. He was okay.
“Eddie I— I didn’t—”
“Didn’t hurt me, I know, Steve. I know you spent the whole night holding me while I slept, making sure I was okay. I know. I know you’re a good Alpha Stevie, I know.”
“You… you know?”
“Mmhm, Buckley. I mean… I kind of figured, once my head cleared up a little, nothing felt different and I wasn’t in any pain, which… I figured I probably would have been had you—y’know, but Robin came by with a tape from your boss. It just confirmed what I figured out myself. I’d have come sooner but… well, cramps. Can you sit down?” Steve startled into action, quickly sitting himself down in his arm chair, opposite where Eddie had sat on the couch to give him some space. “Look… I uh… I know… I know things were said at the clinic, and like… I get that you had a job to do, and that included making me feel better an all that shit, so—if—if you want, I can just—just forget that you said anything, y’know? Just… I don’t expect anything from you, I mean… You were just doing your job, an I was super inappropriate with you like, the whole time, the shit I said—I—I’m sorry dude, I—I wasn’t in my right mind an I know you were probably just bein nice an I appreciate that—”
“Eddie, what the hell are you talking about?”
“You said you wanted to spend my next heat with me, right? An uh… other stuff…” Stuff that’d made his knees weak when he’d remembered it. When the memories of Steve so close, his firm body pressed so tightly against his, when he’d remembered everything, when it’d all slammed back into his brain at breakneck pace leaving him horny and breathless, desperate for something thicker than his own fingers, endlessly frustrated that he didn’t have anything close to what he needed. “But I figured that was probably just to make me feel better or some shit, an I get it, I get that, I mean… there’s no hard feelings, I don’t expect anything from yo—”
“Eddie, do you want me?”
“What?” The poor Omega struck just a little stupid by the abrupt question.
“Simple question” Steve slipped from the arm chair, lowering himself down to his knees in front of his Omega, he reached both hands up to cup those perfectly soft cheeks, in awe of how beautiful Eddie was up close, the way those plush lips parted ever so slightly to breath a little heavier, the way his beautiful doe eyes widened, chocolate brown disappearing as black pupils blew wide, locked on Steve, the way his cheeks warmed under Steve’s palms. He only wished he could smell him. Wished Eddie hadn’t come out wearing those blasted patches. “Do you want me?”
“If… If I say yes will you finally kiss me?” There was only one way Steve could possibly answer that question, and that was by closing the gap between their lips, finally claiming the very first of many promised kisses still to come.
Part 19 (The End)
#PirateWrites#NestFiclet#Steddie#CW: A/B/O#No Upside Down AU#Omegaverse#Omega!Eddie Munson#Alpha!Steve Harrington
662 notes
·
View notes
Text
To The Bone
Plot: You can’t stop shivering and Daryl can’t sleep. (Season 2-3 interim)
Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader
Word Count:
1.2k (I can't believe I wrote something this short)
A/N: it has been so cold lately, hence this small, barely proof-read fic. I hope it gives u some warmth :*
———————————————————————————
The farm fell and winter came.
There wasn’t a moment more heartbreaking to lose your home. Where the walls that fostered generations of Greenes would’ve warmed your heart, the cold and sprawling forest took their place.
Some nights the walls of a different home kept you warm. Homes that once belonged to people you would never know, absolute strangers that were just gone; dead or lost.
Tonight was not one of those nights.
Tonight, there were no strangers whose pictures still lined the walls— because there weren’t any walls. Only the forest and a small fire. Barely embers.
“They might see.”
Rick’s voice echoed in your head frequently these days. An hour wouldn’t pass before he had another demand to make. His last, before patrolling the camp’s boarders with T-Dog and Daryl, was to keep the fire down. Since the incident with Randall’s group and the herd that ripped through the farm, you had a pretty good guess who they were; the living and the dead. A fester of fear and exhaustion lodged in the back of your throat the night you lost the farm, and it’d kept you in line with Rick’s order since.
The fire was nothing but a soft glow. Enough light to see the colour of the fallen leaves beside your head, but that was it. No warmth and certainly no comfort was found in the glowing ashes.
Your shivering had started an hour ago and despite your best efforts to curl under the scratchy blanket, the damp floor of the forest chilled you to the bone. The others had fallen asleep by now, lulled by the aches of exhaustion and the body heat of their closest family, and if you hadn’t spent an extra hour on guard duty, you were sure Lori would’ve pulled you in alongside her and Carl. But the constant worries in your mind kept you awake and alert— so your guard shifts lingered longer and longer with each night, and by the time you retreated, your ‘bed’ for the night was only yours.
Months ago, when the farmhouse had been packed with suitcases and sleeping bags, you would’ve cherished the space. That was before the empty air became cold and bitter, biting at whatever slivers of exposed skin it could find.
Now, being alone felt almost like another type of fight. A struggle to just get through the night without catching frostnip.
There were footsteps ahead of you. It took a moment too long to register it— blame the exhaustion— but when you had, your mind was awake again. Light and calculated, they avoided the crunch of crisp fallen leaves like they knew the forest floor off by heart.
Daryl.
You knew it even before your eyes peeked open. Fighting against the weight of your eyelids, you narrowly watched his shadowy frame sneak through the sleeping bodies of your people, until he moved around the fire and behind you. Your eyes shut again and you listened for the soft rustle of him laying down a blanket.
Another shiver hit and your muscles clenched.
Beyond the clatter of your teeth, a second or two passed in silence. Eventually, your shiver subsided and your body relaxed again, but your jaw was still stiff from the frigid air. You yanked the blanket up further, covering you up to your red-tipped nose, and waited for the tension to pass.
Something touched your shoulder— a hand— and your head snapped to the side. It was Daryl, crouched behind you.
“’S jus’ me,” he mumbled.
“What’s wrong?”
He didn’t answer.
In one swoop, he draped his blanket onto yours and laid down on his side beside you.
“Come ‘ere,” his voice was low. Not only quiet but soft, like he was worried it might break if he spoke any louder.
The blanket helped initially, you felt an extra layer of coziness engulf you, but when he finally moved closer...
It was almost instant, the way your body melted into his.
So tender and whole that every bit of you that had frozen from the constant death and heartbreak cracked open. It’d been months since you felt even a hint of comfort, since you’d even been touched beyond Maggie’s supportive hand at your shoulder. The way you curled into him was almost instinct; your nerves, once turned to ice, finally thawed again and felt.
Against your better wishes, your voice shuddered, “Are you sure?”
His arm snaked around you, pulling you closer by the waist.
“Can’t sleep with your teeth clatterin’ so loud.”
You huffed a breath, huddling your shaky fingers closer to your lips to catch a moment of the hot air. Even with his body heat sinking into your skin, your body was still stiff with the last effects of the chill, and you shivered once more.
He moved you— you couldn’t register where his hands touched specifically, but there were spots of heat up your arms and around your shoulders, like the touch of his skin was separated by thick gloves instead of the thin sweater you wore. You vaguely registered how cold your skin must’ve been for the sensation of his touch to be so numbed. Without any protest, nor much thought, you followed his directions, guiding you deeper into him. Even if it hadn’t been for that pesky crush of yours making you a willing listener of the man, his body heat alone was enough to convince you entirely. As long as you never had to feel that cold and disheartened again, you’d do whatever he asked. His hands stopped moving when you were facing him, forehead touching his chest and face almost completely hidden under the blanket.
Save those big, beautiful eyes that you looked up at him with.
“Thank you,” your voice was smothered under the thick fabric, but he knew what you meant from your stare alone.
He mumbled something, but you barely heard it, finding distraction in the way his chest rumbled with the effort— or the quick pound of his heart.
Daryl wasn’t particularly known as an affectionate man, hell, the stories you’d heard of his interactions with Merle sounded more like resentment than love. And for a while there, when he pulled away after Sophia, you wondered if he knew love existed beyond what his brother defined it as.
His pounding heart made sense, then. A life of inexperience didn’t give him the necessary bravado for sudden, almost intimate, contact with a person he only met a few months ago. No matter how necessary it might’ve been with the dropping temperature, holding you in his embrace seemed like an understandable source of nerves.
The feeling along your back, the slow rub of his thumb down your spine, became less fuzzy as your skin warmed up. By the time you lost your last chill, his heart slowed to a steady pace, and you could even feel the way he’d chewed his nail down to the edge through your shirt.
Thump.
When you inhaled, the air was still cold, but it was tolerable.
Thump.
His heat sunk into you, deeper with every beat of his heart.
Thump.
Daryl held you throughout his sleep. You weren’t sure how inviting your body could have been after hours of lonely shivers, but he held you closer and closer as the night passed.
Perhaps he just needed a little comfort, too.
———————————————————————————
A/N: if daryl was ooc in this... no he wasn’t <3
also-- not sure if I should put a read more on this or not bc its so short... please lmk if it was taking up too much room in the tags/on ur dash :)
if you’re reading this, thank you! I hope you enjoyed this fic. please feel free to leave feedback, it helps so much and I love to read it. have a lovely day <3
#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x reader#daryl x reader#daryl dixon fanfiction#daryl dixon / reader#daryl / reader#daryl dixon x you#The Walking Dead#twd fanfiction#Norman Reedus#daryl dixon imagine#norman reedus imagine#twd#madi writes
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Falling In Love With Leo Valdez
summary : title speaks for itself. reader is a daughter of Poseidon. timeline is from the lost hero to mark of Athena.
word count : 0.7k
type : imagines
pairing/s involved : Leo Valdez x Reader, Brother! Percy Jackson x Reader
warning/s : dealing with a loved one's disappearance, depression, and coping
here is my masterlist!
Percy is the amazing older brother anyone could ever ask for. He made sure that you were thoroughly trained and well-oriented on what it means to be a demigod.
The only downside? He is extremely protective, especially when someone is romantically interested in you.
"PERCY!" You see the camper who flirted with you earlier got knocked off of his canoe and almost drowned in the lake.
"What? It wasn't me."
But his face says otherwise. He can be insufferable.
You love him dearly anyway.
So when he vanished that summer, you are a mess. Chiron had to monitor your every move because you might try to find Percy on your own.
Annabeth told you she received a word of where he is and assured you that everything will be okay. Instead she brought back three strangers with her.
One particularly caught your attention with his elf-like features and scrawny build. You found him... cute.
As expected, Leo flirted with you right away. How could he not? You are hot! 😍
"Hey there, cutie. Are you a goddess?"
"No. My name is (Y/N)."
"Leo Valdez but you can call me anything you want-"
"How about dead?" Annabeth cuts him off, giving him an icy glare. That was enough to shut him up.
Leo uses all of his time to be with you. He is so in love, it's almost sickening.
At first, it's just harmless flirting.
Then he notices the little things— you don't eat that much, easily space out in conversations, lethargic, and has always a forlorn look on your beautiful face.
You, on the other hand, have repressed your emotions to look 'strong'. Annabeth tries to be there for you but she is suffering too.
That's why you bawled your eyes out when Leo asks you about Percy one night.
After that, he swears to you that he will be there to help you cope and look for your brother as well.
He lessens the flirting, shifting to jokes and funny stories that make you laugh.
Disobeying the rules in the dining pavilion, he eats his meals with you on the Cabin 3 table.
You're the first person he brings in Bunker 9, letting you use the place for your own leisure. You often nap there.
Despite the instant attraction, trust gradually grows between you and Leo.
You weren't some silly crush anymore but someone Leo can confide in, and he to you.
Those who observe see that you are becoming lively again. Your smile is no longer forced, you're now eating well, and looking forward to training and games.
The moment you realize Leo wasn't just a friend was because of some jerks who think you were out of his league.
"Come on, man. She wouldn't date you."
You quickly walked up to them and kissed him in front of everyone.
To say Leo is surprised is an understatement. He almost blew up right then and there. That was his first kiss.
You had to pull him to your cabin to confess properly. Let's just say Leo had more than his first kiss that night. 👀
You two aren't officially dating yet, probably because of the war that's about to come.
However, you act like you do— displaying affections, acts of service, and most importantly, keeping each other alive.
There were no need to exchange I love yous, actions were more than enough. Though, Leo loves saying that to you whenever he can.
Annabeth knows Percy will likely kill Leo but if he makes you happy then why not?
Flashforward to Camp Jupiter, you walk to Reyna with Jason and the others. By the distance, you see Percy running towards you with his hands reaching out.
He engulfs you in a hug that you're sure will break your ribs.
"How come my little sister got smaller?"
"Shut up."
You both feel the heavy weight of worry on your shoulders disappear, Percy tigtening his hug on you if that was possible.
Even with the danger looming over all of your heads, you felt safe and content in Percy's arms. Everything seems perfect.
Now, there's only one problem...
How can you tell Percy that you're in love with Leo without the chances of drowning him to death?
#percy jackson and the olympians#percy jackson#percy jackson x reader#heroes of olympus#heroes of olympus x reader#heroes of olympus headcanons#heroes of olympus imagine#leo valdez#leo valdez x reader#leo valdez x reader headcanons#leo valdez x reader imagine#sibling! reader#hoo imagines#hoo headcanons#riordanverse
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
In daydreams with me
Charles leclerc X female!reader X Max Verstappen
This is set in an au! With CEO!Max and professor! Charles .
Words count : 1.7k
*I'm in my lestappen mood so here we are ✨
The shuffling beside (y/n) snapped her attention away from the book she was reading for the past half hour or so , looking down as a low groan came from Max when he turned around, moving to settle his head on her stomach with his face buried in her (Charles's) oversized shirt With one arm around her as she cradled her fingers through his hair in a soothing motion .
He was still tired from pulling an all-nighter the night before , receiving an emergency meeting call due to some mixed up in emails causing his day to bile up with calls and online meeting until the early hours of the day locked away in his office . Leaving you and Charles to take care of him , bringing him meals and water every now and then even little Alec and baby Mila would pop in to give him a hug sharing candy to lift up his mood or to just say hi , her and Charles stayed up checking on him through the night even though he'd scold them both not to on his behalf but he still grateful for their care .
And instead of cancelling the next day he insisted on going , for it's rare for them and their families to find time to gather without someone having to cancel due to mixed schedule , so they took the chance to spend the day out at sea as her father invited them all to his yacht for the day , having more space for the kids to roam around and their parents to spend relaxing time with family away from the bustling city .
They were to first to arrive followed by Sophie and Victoria along with her boys both exited to spend time with their cousins , then the leclercs and her brother came last , late as usual, getting teased by everyone as he made up excuses . And it didn't take long for them to set sails leaving the harbour behind .
Everyone got comfortable chatting and catching up on what's life been since the last gathering , the kids ever the energy balls they are now doubled with them reunited it was a havoc in the making but they stayed well behaved playing and chatting their uncles ears off about something they thought .
Baby Mila stayed with her grandad babbling on with him about God knows what both content as he went around with her clinging to him , refusing to let go even when Charles tried to take her leaving him with a permanent pout until Luka came running up to him to tell him about something , getting his full attention within seconds .
That left her with Pascale , Sophie and Victoria to stay in the shade , carrying on catching up from where they left the conversation with them when the meals were served . Starting with upcoming birthdays parties and planning on going to camping trips before the end of summer break , up to discreetly trying to set the youngest (her brother and Arthur) up on dates , but that would take more planning and scheming .
Around midday max found his way to her , greeting her with a kiss and a tired smile as he crawled up on the couch beside her , he must ran out of energy as it shows in his dropping eyes and slow steps . humming with half closed eyes as he saw the closed book that lays on the side , she took note waiting for him to settle before she grabbed it and started reading to him in a soothing tone running her fingers through his hair massaging his scalp lightly , not two minutes later she felt his breathing slowed and his body relaxed as he drifts to sleep with his arm draped around her waist , Charles came by a couple of times having seen Max walking up the second floor to her tiredly , he worried about him but he felt relieved as he found him cuddled up to her fast asleep so he left them with kisses on both their heads before going back down .
And now as he woke up still drowsy from his deep slumber but more rested than before , looking up at her apologetically " sorry lifeenje I kept you here all day " she shook her head "no , don't worry love . We still got the whole weekend ahead , and I'm glad you took some rest " giving him a kiss on the head , going back to read with Max now having his head on her shoulder following the lines with his eyes she read them aloud , but stopped as both looked up as Charles approached them leaning over to greet them with kisses before sitting beside them , reaching to take Max's hand in his giving it a squeeze after placing a kiss on the back of it , " how do you feel Mon Amour?" Max smiled up at him interlocking their fingers before answering " I'm alright now lieveling , how is it down there ? " Charles only groaned " I'm about to throw Arthur off deck , (B/N) too if they kept teasing me , and Enzo is ditching me for the kids , I'm not going down there anytime soon !" Both laughed at his dramatic act as he laid on top of them groaning dramatically " even my Mila won't comfort me ! What a cruel world!" Glaring at them playfully he added " don't laugh at my misery !" .
Y/n gave him comforting pats on his back " you know they love to target you the most , it's their way to show their love for you" Charles gave her a disbelieving look " they bully me!" She shrugged at him " it's the same thing" causing him to groan again as Max agreed to her statement before moving to squeeze himself between them , they both gave sounds of protest as he shifted and turned moving them to the sides as he settled himself face down , his head on her shoulder now and his arm going around Max who moved back to give them more space to lay comfortably as they could be with them tangled with each other , but nevertheless enjoying the silence and the lull of the waves .
It didn't take long for Alec to make his way to his parents , both tired and crashing down from the sugar rush he had after his youngest uncles snuck him and his cousins, leaving them cranky and tired , so now he's done for the day making his way straight to his mother's side , climbing and settling between her and Charles and reaching over demanding Max to hold his hand , who did after he leaned over to plant a kiss on his head , drifting as his parents watched over him fondly .
They talked quietly among themselves, minding their sleeping boy as they spoke in a hushed tone getting lost in their conversation , but they turned their heads as a distraught (B/N) with Arthur beside him held out a pouting Mila with her fists balled and up as if ready to fight , her nose scrunched up and her frown is permanent as she whines at her parents , Max chuckled at their state after one look at them , their hair looked like birds nests , and they looked like they've been through a fight and they both lost . He reached carefully to take her from their outstretched arms before asking in amusement as she immediately clutched onto him " what have you done to get her this upset?" , They both scoffed at her as she turned to glare up at them " we did nothing! your spawn got offended! , she saw us teasing Charles and went for blood!" , Causing the little girl to glare even more as she took what looked to them as a threatening sniff before looking up at her dad innocently pointing at her uncles with a whine her mother looked mildly amused as her and Charles cooed over her " my baby would never! , Right Mila ? " Charles agreed as he took her next prepping kisses around her face causing her to let out joyous giggles"that's right, my Mila is too sweet to do such thing! Look at her , is this the face of someone who can do such thing!?" He held her up to their faces as he stood up , careful not to wake the sleeping boy , and both of them stepped back as she reach out her small hand to them .
Pascale sat back along with Sophie , both watching in amusement as their little granddaughter reached out her grabby hands giggling as Charles held her up chasing after the Arthur and (B/N) , voicing in a joking manner " I believe that (B/N) and Arthur thought they were invincible and nothing could touch them , but God sent Mila to humble them both " , Charles laughed the loudest as he sat down helping her to balance her feet while holding her arms "is that right Milly ?, You were defending dada ! That's my baby ! Teach them not to mess with me " she gave him a wide toothless smile as she kicked her feet as if agreeing with him both now grinning as they made their way down to follow their new quest of scaring her uncles and claiming revenge for Charles .
Max watched them disappearing down the stairs giving Y/N a thoughtful look " imagine if she could walk ", she countered back equally amused " imagine if she have teeth !" Max made an ooooh sound before they both started chuckling but stopped as the boy who now slept in hi mother's arms shifted slightly but kept sleeping , giving eachother a knowing smile as they settled back hearing Arthur's and her (B/N) shout's followed by the girl's giggles " get her away from me ! , Charles I'm telling Maman on you!" , Charles taunted them both " tell her what , little Mila just wants to show you her love , isn't that right Milly? " Followed with loud squeal from the said girl as in confirmation .
Max turned his head with thoughtful look as he asked " should we held them ? " She shrugged then shook her head " they deserve it " .
#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x y/n#max verstappen x charles leclerc#max verstappen X female reader#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x max verstappen#lestappen#lestappen x reader#f1 x reader#f1 x female reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#professor!Charles leclerc#CEO!Max Verstappen#f1 au!#f1 au#Charles leclerc#Max verstappen
817 notes
·
View notes
Text
Arthur Morgan x f!reader. No plot, just love. Written in about 20 minutes with no editing. System purge, if you will. 18+ content. Body worship, prose-y sex. Talk of babies at the end. I'm whipped for him and I'm sharing it with you.
Arthur likes to take his time with you.
He's a man who lives a life where he often has to move fast to avoid danger. He's spent years on the run from one bad heist to the next, never knowing whether he'll survive to see another day. Even his moments of rest are ridden with apprehension and doubt; he's hardly able to get a good night's sleep even if he's plumb exhausted after days on the open road.
You, however, just might be the most dangerous thing of all.
You're most beautiful to him laid out like this, bare beneath the vast expanse of stars on a cloudless night. There's moonlight in your hair and firelight on your skin, and everywhere he touches feels electric. His fingertips are rough along the softness of your thigh, the swell of your breast, the apple of your cheek. You sigh his name and he bends to you, one big hand encompassing the back of your neck to take you in a tender, all-consuming kiss. The fire sputters and dances, sparking into the sky as he shifts his weight over you and lifts one of your legs around his waist.
This is something he doesn't want to rush.
"Look at you," he whispers. And he does. He looks at you as if you're the one that hung the moon, and you gaze back, awestruck and vulnerable and smitten with this brute of a man who has killed with the very hands that now touch you as if he's afraid he'll break you. When you smile, he can't help but press his mouth to yours again; he takes a shaky breath in and out through his nose and squeezes his eyes shut against the tears that burn beneath. How the hell did he get so lucky, that you would give your love to him so freely, so honestly?
You don't rush him, as much as you'd like to feel him inside you. He kisses his way down your throat, across your collarbone; with all the tenderness he can muster, he cups one of your breasts and sucks your nipple into his mouth, only for you to arch your back and whimper his name again. He traces along your ribs, across the softness of your belly and down to your thighs and back again. Lips follow fingertips until you're a live wire. He's hard against your thigh, legs tangled with yours. Your hands are in his hair, cradling his head against your chest as you lift your hips off the blanket, seeking friction, relief for the throbbing ache between your thighs.
"You keep doing that, and I'll have you right now."
"That a promise?" you tease, breathless, desperate.
Arthur doesn't tease. He opens you with a firm grip on your thigh and ruts inside, carving out a space inside you just for him. His pulse is wild despite how slow, careful, and deliberate he is, his eyes closed against the deluge of sensation, the way it feels to become but an extention of you. You cling to him, unaware of anything else around you besides the weight of him atop you on the little blanket just outside your tent. You hone in on his breath, his beard scratching against your cheek, on the way he threads his fingers with yours and presses them against the dew-kissed blades of grass. The summer night air is thick and balmy, mingling with the smell of sweat, of sex, of dinner over an open flame and a shared bottle of rum. Though, the alcohol isn't what you're drunk on now.
Every stroke of him feels deeper, harder, filling you in ways you could never have imagined. The times you've been intimate at camp have been rushed, hushed; not always unsatisfying, but usually ending with a hurried sorry when he has to make a quick exit. Tonight, there's no worry. No prying eyes, no curious ears. Just you, Arthur, and the love you make, lying under the stars that wink their approval.
He chuckles at you when you start babbling, your nonsensical and teary-eyed warbling, telling him yes, right there! oh, please! but he's soon overcome with his own pleasure when he feels you tighten and flutter around him. He pulls out at the last second, despite the iron grip you have him in with your thighs; you whine at the loss, the warmth of him leaking onto your belly as you both catch your breath.
"Lucky I'm stronger than you, woman," he says, wiping away the evidence with his bandana. You drag your fingers lightly through his beard, kissing him at the corner of his mouth.
"You're lucky I wasn't on top," you fire back. His eyes flash with something akin to fear until you tell him you were only kidding.
"There'll be plenty of time for baby making when we get the hell out of this mess," he murmurs, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Let's just keep practicing for now, okay?"
It's the first time he's indicated that he's had any thoughts of a future with you. Your heart feels light, and a giddy laugh bubbles up from your chest that he kisses away while rolling you onto your back.
He has no intention of sleeping tonight, and quite frankly, neither do you.
273 notes
·
View notes
Text
Poseidon’s (pt. 1)
Luke Castellan x poseidon!reader, Percy Jackson x halfsister!reader
m.list
pt. 2, pt. 3
warnings: none
You ran up to Luke from behind, wrapping your arms around his neck, “Hey, hero,” you greeted, kissing his neck with a smile.
You were a daughter of Poseidon, you’ve been dating Luke Castellan for four years now, you arrived at camp a couple months later than Luke.
“Who’s this?” you said, directing your gaze at the unclaimed Percy.
“Percy, he’s the one who killed the Minotaur,” Luke said as he leaned his face into your forehead, “Be nice, it’s his first day.”
You smiled, unwrapping your hand from his neck, “I’m always nice, that’s why everybody loves me,” you joked, as you walked in front of Luke to shake Percy’s hands.
“I’m Y/n, Poseidon’s,” you held out your hand with a warm smile.
“Percy,” Percy said as he shook your hand.
“What do you think?” Luke asked as he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your hair.
You and Luke have a tradition of guessing the Godly heritage of new campers, and so far, you were always right.
“Hm,” you said, “Has your mom ever said anything about your dad?” you asked Percy, “Hey, you can’t ask,” Luke said.
“Uh- No, I don’t think so.” Percy said.
“I say Poseidon,” you whispered in Luke’s ear as you sent him a wink and walked away.
-
“Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God,” Chiron said.
You rushed up to where everything was happening, just in time to catch the fading trident above Percy’s head.
You quickly scanned the crowd for Luke, just to find that his eyes were already on yours. You sent him a victorious smirk.
You walked over to Percy.
“Well, I guess you have a sister now,” you said with a smile. “Yeah,” Percy flashed you a polite smile.
“Welcome to the family!” you patted Percy on the back, “Thanks,” Percy said, a genuine tone in his voice.
You were about to go clean up and make some space in the cabin for Percy, when you saw Luke coming over, “You owe me two days of dessert, Castellan,” you smiled.
“You win, again,” he sighed with a smile, “I really thought I would in this time.”
“Were you guys placing bets on me?” Percy asked.
You smiled, “Mhm. Tradition,” you sent another smirk at Luke, “And so far, I’ve won almost every single time.”
“You knew I was a Poseidon kid?” Percy frowned.
“You have dad’s eyes,” you gave him a smile.
“Come on,” you gestured for Percy to follow you, “Luke will help you with your stuff, I’ll go clean up the cabin.”
pt. 2
author: okay since a lot of you didn’t like sand on cheeks (series), i’m working on more luke stuff to keep you all happy. please tell me you like this- PART TWO IS GONNA BREAK SOME HEARTS.
Copyright © 2024 Emory Belrose. All rights reserved.
⋆
Please do not re-upload my work on any platforms without permission.
Any reblogs, comments, likes, shares, and follows are appreciated.
#percy#percy jackson#percy jackson show#percy and annabeth#percy pjo#percy series#percy jackon and the olympians#perseus jackson#annabeth pjo#fanfic#angst#acotar fanfiction#annabeth#chalice of the gods#percy jackson imagine#pjo x reader#pjo x you#percy jackson x you#pjo fanfic#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#luke castellan imagine
201 notes
·
View notes
Text
please love me, like the wave does the shore
aaron hotchner x female!reader
wc: 7.9k
warnings: fake!dating, SO much pining, mentions of murder, only one bed, Hotch is very whipped lol, this is so cliché it should be a crime
an: the moment y’all have been waiting for! i hope you kids enjoy! this will probably become a lil series so stay tuned for part 2 :)
summary: murders along the glistening white coast of Cape Cod was not a good look for anybody. especially not the BAU. the case needs a turn around, a big break, but most importantly: a Mr and Mrs.
Portraits of grinning faces watched you from the whiteboard.
Women’s eyes twinkling. Husband’s grinning to the camera. At their wedding, in the woods during a camping trip, on a birthday.
"We have fucking nothing!"
Names and dates lined the edges of what used to be treasured memories in red marker. Memories each couple was not around to remember anymore.
"We have the profile." Hotch's voice was stern. It made the hair on your arms stand on end.
Outside, the ocean crashed loudly against the shore. Seagulls gabbled in the distance near the dock.
"You know that's not enough."
Chatham was one of the most influential and wealthy suburbs in Cape Cod, if not the whole state. Discovering strung out bodies on the crisp white beaches almost five times that month wasn't fitting for the shoreline that housed some of the most elaborate mansions in the county.
The BAU had been in Cape Cod for nearly three weeks. Two weeks too long in the bureau's opinion: a view shared by the team.
Derek slammed his hand loudly against the white board, over a photo of a tall, cream, wood-boarded resort sprawled over the edge of the coast. Seagull's Rest: Couples Retreat and Spa.
"Seagull's Rest is the only place that connects them.” He huffed, pressing his finger into the printed photo. “Every day that passes is another honeymooning couple that's in danger."
Emily sighed somewhere behind you. David lingered by the edge of the desk where Spencer was driving his eyes over some Greek mythology textbook, working the human sacrifice angle he’d been insistent on sharing with you over coffee that morning.
Police chatter busied the space between you and the other agents.
"Morgan," you pressed, "we have no idea what that even means. It could be maids, spa staff ... for all we know, it could even be other guests."
The room was warm, bright: through the window you could overlook the ocean. A scene too beautiful to deserve the blood painted across it’s portrait.
Nights dissolved into mornings at the sheriff's station. Coffee mugs finding purchase in the maze of photos, medical reports, staff lists: all leading back to the one place all four couples were spending their vacation.
"You know what this means, don't you?" David's voice carried over from behind you. You turned to face him, his gaze set hard upon Hotch's.
The team leader's jaw was tight.
He looked like he was considering David's words closely, sucking in a breath like it hurt him to do so.
Emily's chair squeaked where she leaned forward in it, "What is he talking about?"
Hotch's narrow eyes turned to face the team again. "We need to go in. Work the case from the inside."
"Undercover?" You probed, jaw loosening in surprise.
The team hadn't worked an undercover project in almost two years. Everyone understood that they were a last resort, when general good-old detective work wasn't doing the trick.
Hotch nodded stiffly.
"We're gonna need a couple to go in. Two of us. The pair has to match the preference of the unsub."
There was a heavy quiet before a collective understanding, a collective resignation.
"Fine." Derek nodded. He turned to face the board again. "The husbands, what are we looking for?"
"Alpha males, domineering personalities." David lifted a photo off the desk, examining it closer. "All high-power careers, wealthy. They have a handle on these women. Other couple's in the course with them reported the husband being out of touch, unaffectionate."
Spencer rose to stand, "But no specific physical traits. Unlike the women, they share a specific appearance: the hair, the height, the body shape. They all look like—"
Cold passed over your whole body from the highest point on your head. Like ice water had flooded your shoes.
"Like me."
Teeth sunk into the corner of your lip, the metal taste of blood nipped at your tongue.
It was impossible not to feel the weight of the team’s gaze, how they flickered quickly between where you sat and the photos against the board.
Spencer shrugged, nodding slowly. "Yes, like you."
You chuckled softly, missing most of the humor in the situation as you sunk further back into your chair. "I guess that's settled then."
It wouldn't be your first time working undercover, but you couldn’t say you were as experienced as your colleagues.
You'd joined the BAU last, working every possible hour and chasing down every possible lead to try stay in one of the most coveted positions at the bureau.
It definitely wasn't the easiest thing you’d ever done.
Yes, the team was welcoming - Emily worked hard to make you feel at home, empathizing with you about the difficulty of transitioning into such a team: a team that knows each other's every move and every thought before they themselves have moved or thought - and Spencer was always a friendly face.
Derek was considerate and David was a genius in the line of duty, a marvel to watch work.
What really made it difficult, was Hotch.
In the beginning, he was wary of you. You could feel him lingering when you worked, every decision you made or observation you gathered was held under the magnifying glass of Aaron Hotchner.
With time, he eased up. Trusted you with more, scrutinized over less.
It was then that the next - considerably more concerning - problem began, when you began to miss having his presence over your shoulder.
When your eyes began to linger over his hands where they rested on his holster, or fixate quietly when he brought that steaming morning mug to his lips - sipping oh, so gently.
You were so sure he'd kiss with the same tenderness. The thought kept you up at night.
The feelings you so embarrassingly held for your boss were pushed deep into the corners of your brain.
You felt secure in the knowledge that you acted as casual as possible. Nobody had mentioned anything, and the thought of Hotch ever catching even an inkling of an idea would be enough to never walk back into BAU headquarters ever again.
The only person who really knew anything was Emily.
It had slipped after a drunken night out, on the couch in her apartment, your fat tears staining her blouse: "he's so fucking hot I can't do this!"
And there he was. Silhouette dark against the cast of the sunlight through the window, looking down at you from his towering height. "You're sure you're ready for this?"
His voice wrapped carefully around your throat and you almost choked on its softness.
You coughed instead. "Ready as I'll ever be."
He nodded once, turning back to Derek. "The male?"
Derek shook his head, "Rossi and I went over there a couple days ago to question the owners. They know we're FBI."
The room turned to Spencer, who blinked big hazel eyes at the room innocuously.
You did little to suppress the giggle that bubbled out from your chest. Your heart knocked loudly when you felt Hotch's eyes flicker over his shoulder back at you.
"You wanna be our dominant alpha, Reid?" Emily's lips tugged into a playful grin, clicking the end of her pen loudly.
Soft laughter permeated the room, David knocked Spencer’s shoulder teasingly.
Spencer flushed a light pink, his gaze finding purchase at the open space between his two feet. "Yes. Very funny."
It took more than a few seconds for you to realize that without Spencer, there stood only one other possible candidate.
Your eyes climbed the length of Hotch's long black blazer sleeve. When you reached the top you found him already looking at you. You shivered.
"I suppose that means it’s me then."
Purposefully avoiding his gaze, you found Emily staring right at you - a grin curling up at the corners of her mouth.
"Mr and Mrs Hotchner." David chirped, a mischievous edge to his words. "Congratulations."
You managed to squeak out a sarcastic "thanks Rossi" but Hotch stayed quiet. It made you want to sink into the crevice of your desk chair.
Instead, he turned back to Spencer.
"Get Garcia on the line. She needs to set up aliases and get us registered for the next couple's course as soon as possible."
Spencer nodded once before disappearing into the next room wordlessly.
Next, he turned to you - sucking all the breath out your lungs.
God, he made it so hard to act normal when he showed up in that fucking suit and that perfectly professional haircut.
"I want you to go over the backgrounds of the women again. Get a feel for the unsub's preference, there may be a personality type that he likes best. I'll do the same with the men." You nodded, going to stand and finding yourself always just a little too far from his chest.
"While we're away, the rest of you need to work off the intel we feed. Let's solve this before there's more bodies."
Agents began moving in every direction: out the door, back towards boxes of evidence, but Emily crossed the room to you: eyes wide and alight with mischief.
She grabbed your hand, pulling you from the room and leaving Hotch behind. "This is going to be so fucking good."
Your stomach churned.
-
Just shy of two days later, you found yourself sitting in the front seat of a Mercedes Benz - god knows the bureau has its ways - only two streets down from Shellshore drive, where tucked into the curve sat Seagull's Rest: the beautiful lodge on the Cape Cod coast that offered couple's courses for new and old marriages that delve into the depths of the soul and connect partners in love and touch.
At least that's what the pamphlet said as it stared up at you from your lap.
It sat at the top of the stack of case files, documents and photos hidden beneath. You pulled out the ID from the midst of the stack.
The photo you'd taken the previous afternoon glimmered up at you: Mrs Eleanor Thompson.
With less than a couple inches of space dividing you, in the driver's seat, sat Hotch.
Penelope was talking over the car speaker.
"I signed you guys up for the Honeymooner's Retreat. It's six days long, but I'm sure you'll be out by then. There are five other couples doing this course with you, you'll find their names in the documents I sent. All their records are clean."
"Garcia, I want you to cross reference all the course instructors with anybody who has—"
Hotch's voice faded from your surroundings, your brain stuttering electrically as your eyes raked over his outfit.
A tight fit black polo that was hugging his chest and chino pants begging for relief over those long thighs.
The last two days had been painful.
You'd slept almost nothing: tossing and turning for hours over the idea that you'd soon be in much closer proximity to Aaron Hotchner than you'd ever been. Too close.
Emily had tried to calm you down, "just ... focus on the case, okay? whatever happens happens."
It was easy for her to say.
Her legs didn't liquify every time Hotch sent small praise her way, like they did on you, and she didn’t have flashing images of taking care of him in the way he never does himself plague her in the small moments of quiet throughout her day.
Making him breakfast, or taking his blazer off after a long case ... undoing the buttons down his shirt—
"They're expecting you for check in at five o clock."
Your eyes found the digital clock on the dashboard, it blinked red at you: 16:47
"Thank you Garcia."
"Yeah," you added quickly, "Thanks Garcia."
"Good luck lovebirds." The teasing lilt in her voice did nothing to calm the high power washing machine your stomach had transformed to.
Heat rushed over your face.
You could feeling Hotch watching you from the corner of his eye. "Are you sure you're ready to do this?"
Sliding your stack of pages into the Louis Vutton handbag at your feet, you forced a smile to press up into your lips.
"To marry you, Hotch?" You feigned a soft sigh, "I've only waited all my life."
The bubbling in your stomach simmered only slightly when Hotch rolled his eyes, what was almost a smile teasing at his lips. "I'll take that as a yes."
The car rumbled to a start beneath you, the expensive engine purring.
"We know what to look for. Keep your eyes on the guests, the instructors, anybody we interact with."
It was hard to focus on Hotch's advice when his wide hands were gripping the steering wheel so tightly.
But you nodded anyways.
It felt like less than a few seconds before the car was being pulled into a luxurious white cobblestone driveway. A sign etched in ivory-coloured wood overhead marked the road: Welcome to Seagull’s Rest.
Bellboys stood in the distance under a grand arched entrance in cream uniforms, luxury cars stretched out in every direction of the parking lot.
The car rumbled to a stop. A valet attendant was already approaching before you’d even a second to gather what was left of your courage.
Hotch turned to you, slow and deliberate as was his manner, leaning precariously over the console. "Remember, we're being watched."
The door opened abruptly on your side, you glanced up to meet the face of the young man holding open the door. He couldn't be older than twenty.
He smiled. "Good afternoon and welcome to the Seagull's Rest."
Your eyes flickered back as Hotch climbed out from the other side, you smiled up at the boy before lifting the end of the olive-green sundress you'd been coerced into wearing and stepped out.
Hotch had rounded the car before you'd even straightened out. He tossed the keys at the attendant.
You were taken aback by how quickly he could escape his usually impeccable manners.
"Be careful with the luggage. There's things in there worth twelve times your salary."
You sucked in a sharp breath when he took your hand into his, sliding his fingers between yours. His palm was pressed so firmly you thought you might collapse.
He made matters worse when he cleared his throat loudly, "Come on, honey, let's go."
The reception was a bright open room, preceded by a tall oak arch, and a high ceiling loomed over the expensive wood of the front desk.
A small framed woman stood behind it, smiling as you approached. "Good afternoon, welcome to Seagull's Rest."
Hotch only nodded curtly in greeting, pulling you abruptly up against his side so that his hand wrapped over your waist. You only hoped he couldn’t hear your heart thumping hysterically against your ribs.
"James and Eleanor Thompson." He grumbled, "We're here for the Honeymooner's Retreat."
"Of course sir, if I could see some identification please?"
Hotch slid over the two fake ID's and the woman began to tap away at the computer.
Your eyes slid up to the view from the window beyond the desk, how the sun was almost setting over the ocean visible through the crystal-clear window.
Unsure if it was driven by purpose or simply instinct, your arms snaked up to rest around Hotch's hips, letting your head lull against the side of his chest just softly.
His chest swelled. You tried not to read into it.
"Baby," it took a moment, presumable for Hotch to realize you were referring to him, but he hummed in response, not looking down at you.
"Hm?"
You motioned to the window, "Look how beautiful it is. You couldn't have chosen a better spot."
Instead of Hotch, the woman at the front desk spoke in response.
"We boast one of the best spots along our coast. The morning yoga sessions are spectacular if that's something you enjoy, and we have cocktail evening tonight at our restaurant on the beach." Her voice dripped in sugar, sliding the two ID's and the keycard to the room back over the counter.
"That sounds wonderful—"
Hotch's stern voice pierced through your own, "Yes, well, we'll see."
The woman - Leslie, as her tag suggested - glanced carefully between Hotch and yourself. She offered you a quietly sympathetic look before meeting Hotch's face again.
"Y-Yes, of course sir."
You stayed quiet after that, allowing her to direct James and Eleanor to their room. Second floor at the end of the hallway.
Hotch huffed dramatically, grabbing the cards from the desk.
His hand slid from your waist and you almost had enough time to mourn the loss of his warmth against your side before that large hand wove itself back between yours - simultaneously warming and chilling every blood vessel in your body.
Hotch pulled you in the direction of the elevator. Nothing was said between you, only the swish of your dress and the heavy step of his leather shoes against the floors.
You two followed the corridor as instructed, gaze flickering curiously up to your fake husband every few moments before your interest caught the better of you.
"You're a little too good at playing the asshole, James." Your hand squeezed gently against his, "Something you want to tell me?"
He shook his head, "Nothing comes to mind."
The luggage was already waiting at the foot of the bed when Hotch pushed the door open, allowing you to step in first.
A gasp escaped you.
The room had to be the most exquisite thing you’d seen in all your life.
It was lined in crisp white and cream decor, a velvet couch along the one wall and a sprawling balcony that overlooked the ocean - the sound of the waves filling every crevice of the space.
There was a thud and you turned to find Hotch opening his briefcase, pulling out the neatly packed pressed shirts that lay within.
"Hotch—"
Quicker than it took you to blink in fright, Hotch's hand closed over your mouth. He shook his head, tapping his ear. "Wires." He mouthed.
You nodded quickly, feeling stupid.
His hand dropped and embarrassment flushed hot over your neck. You looked away from him.
This wasn't a holiday and Hotch wasn't your husband.
Eight people were dead.
Unease burnt at your chest, the same kind that had been building with every passing day and every piling body. You moved in silent to unpack your own handbag where you'd placed your files.
Hotch watched you carefully, as you leaned over the bag - silhouette forming against the red and purple tones of the picturesque sky behind you.
He stared a little longer than necessary, capturing the view to his mind.
It was something he found himself doing too often. Whenever he could find a moment, an excuse. His gaze would linger on your frame, your face.
When your fingers would twitch against your necklace or when you laughed a little too loudly for the Quantico office when Spencer told his terrible, very specifically not funny jokes.
But he was Aaron Hotchner, BAU Unit Chief, and nothing if not the epitome of professionalism.
He planted himself far enough from the line to where he could go about his day and pretend like he didn't lose sleep at night thinking about you.
"James, did you pack the charger?" Your voice was loud, but wavered slightly. You didn't look up to his face as you usually did.
Hotch tried to convince himself that he didn’t notice.
"Yes, honey, it's in the side pocket."
There was no charger and definitely no need to ask about one besides making casual conversation in the case that wires tapped the room.
Reminded of the very real circumstance, Hotch abandoned the shirts on the bed to move around the room.
Behind him you were doing the same.
He lifted lamp shades, checked under drawers, desks and the headboard for any listening device that could have been planted before they came in.
You shuffled around behind the television stand and at the railings of the curtain before slipping into the bathroom.
Twenty minutes passed in silence before Hotch climbed back to his feet from where he was crouched down under the bed frame.
"We should be in the clear." He announced to you where you still occupied the bathroom.
"Check what I found." You emerged, sundress flittering around your ankles.
He cursed the sway of the material. Somehow you'd arrived in that green dress to the sheriff's station and it had made every nerve connecting his body to his brain turn fuzzy and the man of steel that was Aaron Hotchner was having a harder time than usual keeping his eyes to himself.
You waved a white envelope at him, "It was stuck to the window."
Hotch took it from you, it was addressed to a Mr and Mrs Thompson.
"That's us." He muttered, finger sliding to break its seal.
You stood against his side, close enough to read the letter where he slid it out but also just close enough to make Hotch's head spin from the waft of your perfume.
Good afternoon Mr J and Mrs E Thompson,
We welcome you to Seagull's Rest and want to thank you for choosing to participate in our Honeymooner's Retreat. The next few days will work to strengthen the bond of love and trust between any new married couple, and of course up the intimacy!
Tonight we will be hosting a champagne evening where you will be afforded the opportunity to meet the couples that you'll be spending the next six days with.
Meet us at the Pelican Perch Restaurant on floor 1 at six o clock. We look forward to meeting you!
Kindly, Seagull Rest Staff.
The page crinkled beneath his fingers.
"This is perfect." He muttered, looking sideways at you. "It'll give us a chance to see the unsub in a social environment if he's here."
The unknown subject (unsub) was clarified before you and Hotch had left the station that morning.
David's voice still rung in his ears:
"Someone who is calm and casual in social settings, easy to get along with but holds a position that allows people to trust them. It's what he uses to lure two people at a time to their deaths."
You glanced up at the antique clock on the wall hanging above the television. "That means we should leave soon."
Hotch nodded, "Leave the packing, we'll do that when we get back."
The sun was disappearing behind the glittering ocean surface when the door shut behind you and Hotch again.
His hand slipped down over your wrist before sliding into your grasp, between your fingers and over your knuckles.
Hotch could spend all night convincing himself that holding your hand was imperative to maintaining your cover because you were married and that was in the best interest of the case, but it would still do little to calm the way his heart began to beat from his throat when your grip tightened gently around his.
You made small talk on the walk down to the restaurant, as any couple would.
Mentioning the spa and the interior designs of the glamorous hallways you passed on the walk down to the Pelican Perch restaurant on the water.
The views of the lodging was almost nothing compared to when you two walked under the green vine archway into the restaurant.
Hotch heard your little gasp beside him and was sure it made his heart grow two sizes.
Above your heads hung a glittering maze of white fairy lights overviewing a large wooden floor with tables set in every corner. The bar glittered with bottles of every colour, size and shape that lined the shelves and the wide stacking doors were opened out onto the shoreline.
A soft jazz played and near the center of the room, ten chairs were stacked in a semi-circle around a small podium.
"This is so beautiful." You whispered, almost so soft he didn't hear it.
He looked down at you, enamored by the way the lights reflected off your eyes and your lips were parted in surprise.
"It is." But his eyes never left you.
Already, three or four couples had taken seats, keening over each other as if they two were the only people in the room.
It was almost six. Hotch tugged your hand gently in the direction of the expensive looking chairs, leaning down close to your ear: "Keep your eyes on the people."
You giggled as if he'd said something naughty, putting on a good show for the surrounding guests before leaning down to sit.
The lull of the music in the room almost convinced you that it was all real.
That as you sat and Hotch settled his arm over your thighs, pulling you close against him: that it was because he wanted, not needed, to be there.
Your eyes flickered over the people, a man and a woman were ushering people to take their seats and a tall thin waiter was sauntering around with a tray of champagne glasses.
You took two from his tray, handing the other to Hotch. He gave you a look to remind you to be careful, you could practically hear him chiding "remember, we're on the job."
The champagne was as close to velvet as you'd ever tasted, sliding down your throat far too easily as the man and woman took to the podium in front of you.
The room quietened.
"Good evening to all our lovely young couples!" The man's voice was smooth, warm.
He was older, every spit of hair from his body a stark shining white. The woman was the same, they matched the decor of the resort in the cream beach sets they adorned.
Wrinkles crinkled around her eyes when she smiled, "We're so glad to have you with us. Thirty years ago, we opened the Seagull's Rest to help any couple who felt they needed a place to connect with nature and each other, and since then it's become not only a home to us - but a home to every couple who steps through our doors."
You met Hotch's eye. Owners.
Laurie and Howard Ralph. The founders of the Seagull's Rest.
Howard spoke again: "every class is taught by a qualified, friendly and helpful instructor to make you feel safe in what Laurie and I like to call the education of love."
You'd seen their photos in files and on your tablet, somehow they looked even more pretentious in person.
While you knew you weren't looking for an unsub team, their demeanors didn't put them completely out of range for being possibly responsible.
At least that's as far as your brain could conjure up with Hotch's wide thumb rubbing circles into the side of your thigh - a motion you weren’t entirely convinced he realized he was making.
"We'd like to start off the evening with a few introductions, just to break the ice between you."
They were looking down the line of people, pointing to a Hispanic couple closest to the edge. "How about you two? Tell us your names, where you're from, how you met and your favourite thing about your partner."
The man stuttered, looking to his wife for support. She smiled up at him and you couldn't help the momentary swooping ache to have somebody to look at in that warm, soft way.
"Well I'm Alice and this is my husband Marco." She patted him fondly on the chest, "We're from New York."
"We met when we were kids, we lived next door to each other for fifteen years." The husband was a shyer speaker, but his adoration for his wife leaked through his words. "Before she left for college I asked her to be my girlfriend. The rest is history, I guess."
Laurie and Howard smiled plastically, like the grin was surgically attached there.
"That's lovely, and your favourite thing about one another?" Laurie pressed, before adding, "Remember ladies and gentlemen, this experience is about making yourself vulnerable to each other and to yourself!"
"I love how he can make me feel brand new after a terrible day."
"I love the way she knows me in little ways that nobody else does."
Slowly, the couples spoke down the line.
You were introduced to the Taylors, the Andersons, the Fletchers, the Schmidts.
As the line drew shorter, your breath grew faster.
Of course you knew your story, you'd had it drilled into your brain for the last two days, but your favourite thing about Hotch?
No, you corrected yourself, not Hotch. James.
Your brain fished for a lie, dipping past the bundles of things you loved about Hotch that could so easily be picked from the bush.
But would it be so out of line to admit something honest, something he'd never even realize was true?
Eyes fell on you.
Hotch cleared his throat, his grip over your thigh tightened.
"We're the Thompsons. I'm James and this is Eleanor. We're from Colorado."
His voice was strong, stern. Someone who didn't know Hotch might say it was how he always sounded, but there he held a jagged edge to his tone. "We met at—"
"Woah, woah," Howard interrupted, chuckling nervously. "James, you're running a bit away with us here. Why don't you let your wife tell us how you met?"
Hotch mustered the audacity to look affronted. "Alright."
You fought hard to suppress a laugh. Hotch was an abnormally good actor.
He turned to you, "Darling?"
You sighed, practically scribbling ditzy airhead over your forehead and lifting a hand to fiddle with the buttons on his polo, "Well, I met James in my last year at college—"
"Screwing the professor, very classy."
The whisper came from somewhere to your left and surprised you.
It was soft enough that you were sure Howard and Laurie hadn't heard.
The look on Hotch's face, however, proved that he had. He'd grown completely stiff under your hand.
You fought to regain composure, "H-He was working at a law firm that I was doing an internship at. It was love at first sight, right baby?" You patted his chest slowly.
He nodded, eyes darting anywhere but you.
The owners nodded, urging you to continue. "That's beautiful."
You looked up, met with the side of Hotch's face - he didn't look like he was going to speak first.
"My favourite thing about James is ..." your mind flickering between some cliché or just spitting out what you really wanted to. "The way he looks out for me. Always makes sure I'm safe, even if it's risking himself."
It was mild enough to pass off for just a casual comment but nearly specific enough that if he knew how you felt that he'd catch on.
He pulled his gaze from where it was fixated on the foot of the podium, sinking it into yours and making the room feel suddenly ten degrees warmer.
"My favourite thing about Eleanor is her laugh."
It was short and sweet and deep down you really hoped it was laced in truth.
By the time you looked away from your partner, the introductions had already moved down a couple. Judging by the way the tall blonde woman who'd just announced herself as Jade Atkins was staring at you, you could already gage that she'd been the one to make the professor comment.
You could still feel Hotch's anger radiating off of him. He was hard, tense and his jaw was set tightly.
Hotch was older than you, sure. You knew that.
It was one of the things that assured - plagued - you that he would never reciprocate your feeling.
He was mature and worldly, handsome in a way no man you knew could even remotely compare.
You were younger, not that much, but still. Enough that you could be looked at sideways by stuck-up bitches like Jade Atkins.
You knew you'd never be afforded a chance ... but then why did Hotch look so angry?
He knew he was older, but he also had to know that he left a trail of swooning women wherever he went?
"James ..." you whispered.
He looked quickly down at you, clearly of the impression that it was enough of a response.
"What's wrong?"
The word looked like they hurt forcing itself from his mouth. "Nothing."
You bit the corner of your bottom lip slowly, turning over his response in your mind.
Before you could find the sense to stop yourself, you reached up and took Hotch's jaw into your grasp, pulling it down closer to your face.
Following hesitantly until he was practically leaning over, you whispered into his ear: "ignore her, she just wishes her husband wasn't a cheating alcoholic."
You pressed a warm peck against his upper cheek, close to his eye and pretended that the brush of his almost-there stubble didn't make your heart swoop down into your stomach.
Letting go, Hotch straightened out again. He looked calmer, almost like he could smile.
His eyes flickered over the man, taking in his form. It took him a moment before he whispered back, "You're right."
Within a couple minutes, the last of the couples finished their introductions and the Ralph's were speaking again.
"Thank you all, again, for coming. Please, spend the rest of the evening getting to know each other, enjoying more of our champagne—"
"Imported straight from France!" Howard interjected and the couples laughed sporadically,
"—and savor the rest of your week."
Around you, couples rose from their seats. You detangled yourself from Hotch and did the same.
Initially, you had the full intention of floating around the room together, connected at the arm to analyze the guests quietly.
However, almost immediately, the women had dissected from their husbands to form a small group by the balcony.
The men had done the same, converging near the bar.
Blinking in surprise, you look up to Hotch for further instruction.
He nods towards the women, "You should go join them."
Your face crinkled in reluctance, "Don't make me go over there, James ... our friend isn't even supposed to be a woman."
Amusement was alight in his brown eyes, but his mouth remained a thin line.
"Then," he almost made you jump when his wide hand closed softly over your cheek, dragging the side of his thumb down your face, "go enjoy the company. I'll focus on the men."
Sparked by Hotch's warm touch, slightly dizzy on it, you nodded softly before turning to the women.
It was cool out on the balcony and the women greeted when you joined the circle.
You took a long gulp from your second glass of champagne, listening only half-committed to Patricia Anderson's story about their new condo on the Los Angeles beachfront.
"So, Eleanor was it?"
Recognizing the voice as the one who'd whispered brashly behind you not more than twenty minutes previously, you turned to the woman.
Your grip tightened around your champagne glass.
"Yes. Jenna, right?"
The woman gathered the nerve to look affronted, her tennis skirt swayed with the breeze over long bronzed legs.
"Jade, actually. Jade Atkins." She cleared her throat, "My husband is Richard Atkins, he owns all the Sonja Hotels north of the equator, I'm sure you've heard of him."
Another woman - Anne Schmidt - indulged her. "That's amazing, Elijah and I stayed there a couple months ago in Switzerland."
Jade nodded, looking proud, but seemingly intent on swerving the conversation your way.
"Speaking of husbands, yours is quite the catch isn't he?" The chatter of the other women dimmed slightly, the wives sensing the change of direction.
Taking another necessarily big gulp of your champagne, you nodded. "Indeed."
"He's very handsome ... how did you manage to tie him down?"
Her words dripped in condescension.
"Just got lucky, what can I say?"
Jade nodded, twisting a long golden strand between her fingers. Heat was beginning to curl at your cheeks.
"And he's so much older," she laughed airily, lifting her glass to sip at her drink, "but I guess that life insurance money makes him all the more attractive, hey?"
"Oh definitely. He also got a huge penis which helps."
Jade choked loudly around her glass and the women around you burst into fits of high-pitched laughter.
"Don't mind her," Imani Taylor pulled you aside, "All the Botox has gone to her brain."
You smiled kindly at her.
"So a lawyer you said, what's that like?"
Across the room, Hotch was sitting through a similar game of verbal tennis.
A circus of who's car is newer, bigger, better, who's company makes more money or sells more stocks.
He doubted he'd ever been so bored. That's maybe why his eyes flickered so often to where you were talking animatedly with a short woman in a hijab.
A heavy hand against his shoulder sucked him back into the conversation.
A sandy-topped man who Hotch quickly identified as Elijah Schmidt was patting him boyishly, "Don't worry about the girl, Thompson."
He didn't love the idea of you being referred to as girl but said nothing on it.
Clearing his throat, he shook his head vaguely. "Got to keep on eye on them. She can barely feed herself most days, only knows how to spend my money and crash my cars."
The words were bitter, like hot bile on his tongue but he insisted on maintaining a mutual expression. Nobody promised that playing an asshole was going to be any fun.
A handful of the men grimaced at his comment, while the rest just tutted offhandedly.
While the men were far from the nicest he'd met, in the couple minutes he'd spent with them, Hotch was almost sure that his unsub was not among them.
Despite most of their more than patchy backgrounds - mostly corporate scuffles, dug up by Garcia - none of them spoke with the ease that the suspect needed to have, the charisma and the trustworthy character. Hotch's energy was better placed elsewhere.
"Barely feed herself?" A gravelly chuckle filled the space, "Sure doesn't look like it."
Hotch's eyes narrowed on the short bald man laughing to himself, glancing over to where you stood across the room - a fat cigar between his fingers.
He recognized him as the man who sat with the woman who'd commented when you spoke. Richard Atkins.
Turning his whole body to the man, towering over his structure, Hotch's face twisted - his stomach contents boiling hot at the comment.
"I beg your pardon?"
Pulling at the cigar, the end lighting up, the man shrugged. "Just saying, y'know, she doesn't look like she's skipped a meal anytime recently—"
The expression curling onto Hotch's face must've been cause for alarm, if not the way his fist tightened at his side, because almost immediately two other men stepped in.
One at Richard's side, "Hey, hey, Richard, that's enough man."
The other patting Hotch's shoulder, "Thompson ... he's had a couple drinks, just let him go."
Richard seemed to find the situation amusing because he was chortling still to himself. "Of course, of course. My bad, just locker-room talk you know. No harm, no foul."
Seething white anger was tugging on every muscle in his body, and he fought hard to maintain composure - taking a cautionary step towards Richard Atkins.
"I'd watch how you talk about my wife if I were you. Otherwise we're going to have a problem."
Atkins only huffed, turning back to his friend and his cigar. The conversations started up again around him, but Hotch had lost interest.
His wrist watch told him they'd been standing there for almost an hour.
Cleaning out the bottom of his glass, he set it down on the nearest table before excusing himself, offering handshakes and a couple shoulder pats before moving towards the women.
A handful of men followed him, clearly keen to leave as well.
He found you by the railing, laughing gently at something the woman across from you said.
Hotch's arm slid over your waist from behind, dipping his head closer to your ear: "ready to go?"
You nodded, offering a quick goodbye to the woman and some others.
The walk back to the room was quicker than he remembered, or maybe it was the light buzz of champagne against the side of his head and how you were humming something that sounded like Etta James that made it feel too fast.
On return, the prospect of unpacking awaited.
"Anyone interesting among the husbands?" You asked from across the room, lifting shirts and dresses to stack into the open cupboard.
Hotch shook his head, dislodging the secret compartment at the bottom of his suitcase where the case files had been hidden. "The unsub isn't one of them. They're all, for lack of a better word, assholes. Nobody trustworthy enough to follow to your death."
You chuckled lightly, "The women were alright. Except for this one woman, that one who whispered that rubbish when we introduced ourselves."
Hotch's stomach turned at the thought of the woman's words. Screwing the professor, really classy.
The implication on your character made his blood boil.
"Let me guess, Atkins?"
You nodded, "How'd you know?"
"Her husband's a real piece of work too. I'm gonna find something to arrest him for before the end of the week."
Your giggle permeated the space and it worked to ease the knot in Hotch's stomach.
"Don't be so dramatic, James." You draped a towel over your arm, "Mind if I grab the shower first?"
"Of course." Hotch nodded, desperately trying to fan out the image that was quickly rendering in his mind of you in the shower. "I'm gonna phone Garcia."
The bathroom door clicked behind you and you sighed into the emptiness of the room.
You took your time showering, enjoying how the hot water eased the tension over your shoulders, before drying off and slipping into the most appropriate pair of pajamas you'd brought along.
It took some convincing to let yourself pack the silk shorts and tank top, after all: you would be sharing a room with your boss.
Quickly after you'd walked back into the room, Hotch had slipped into the bathroom himself with a towel and pair of pajamas hanging over his arm.
Images of all the people you'd met that very evening sifted through your mind like a deck of cards, flipping through them and filtering the ones you knew couldn't be involved.
The spray of the shower was loud and your mind reached precariously for an image of what Hotch looked like under the fancy head in the shower that had more than enough space for two ... how the hot water was probably gliding over his long strong arms, down his chest and through the happy trail at the base of his stomach leading down towards—
The water shut off and silence echoed across the room.
You heard shuffling behind the door, wondered quietly what he could be doing, but pulled your eyes back to the case file.
The list of connections between the victims and current guests were numerous, too many to be significant as people in this wealth category generally moved in similar groups.
The door clicked open.
"Put that away, you should get some sleep."
"I—" You looked up to meet Hotch's eye and almost swallowed your tongue.
His hair was still wet, drooping over his forehead in a way you'd never seen before, and his blue t-shirt stuck to his chest with dampness. He wore plaid shorts that exposed those long legs that had been so criminally hidden beneath his usual suit pants.
He looked so ... domestic, and it set every nerve ending in your body alight.
"I ... yes, boss. Was just looking." You set the file on the bedside table.
He nodded at you, a warm look on his face. "Want you well rested for tomorrow."
There was a short silence and the look cleared from his features to be replaced by another.
Hotch's eyes flickered between the bed and the couch, and for the first time in more than a while, a look of unsureness occupied his face.
"I ... I think I'll take the couch."
Your heart sunk.
"Why?" The question chased its way out of your mouth before you could reach to snatch it.
"I don't wanna make you ... uncomfortable, considering I'm your superior."
"I mean, the bed is plenty big enough for the both of us, Hotch." You stammered, desperate to be close to him. "It's probably gonna be painful to sleep on that couch anyways."
He hesitated.
"U-Unless you think it's weird, you can sleep on the couch it's fine." You wished you could sink into the sheets and disappear.
But to your surprise, Hotch nodded.
The bed sunk on his side as he lifted the covers, as close to the edge as he could from what you could see.
His head hit the pillow before he leaned over to flick off the light, you took it as a sign to do the same.
There was quiet for a long moment.
The door to the balcony was open, it was just too hot to close it, and the breeze curled over the sheets, wafting the smell of Hotch's shower gel into your face.
It took all you had within you not to sigh loudly and dig your face into his neck.
You thought the conversation had closed for the evening, but Hotch surprised you when his voice emerged from the darkness.
"You did well today. I know you were nervous."
A smile tugged at your lips. He could read you better than you thought he could.
"You've got a lot more practice at the husband thing than I do at the wife thing."
You could almost see the outline of his face against the light of the moon.
"Well, I hope this wife ends up better than the last one."
The memory of finding Hotch's ex-wife's body came starkly into view.
"O-Oh, Hotch." Your hand came to your face in embarrassment, "I'm sorry, I-I shouldn't have—"
"Hey, hey," he stopped you, "it's my fault. It was a bad joke, I shouldn't have made it."
You couldn't help the small giggle that escaped you, "I've never heard you freestyle a joke before, Hotch."
"Wasn't good?"
"It was terrible." You managed around the now growing laugh.
"And yet you're still laughing. Isn't that the goal?"
You shuffled over in the sheets to face him, even though you couldn't see much - the thought that he lingered there in the darkness comforted you.
"Not at that really bad attempt at a joke, I'm laughing at you."
Maybe it was your imagination, but you swore when the light from the lighthouse flickered quickly over Hotch's face that he was grinning.
"I'm glad I amuse you."
"Come on Hotch, you're telling me you don't have a single good dad joke?"
He was quiet a long moment, and for a second you thought you'd pressed too hard.
"Why do you never see elephants hiding in trees?"
Absolutely surprised by the question, you shook your head in the darkness. "Why?"
"Because they're really good at it."
The light from the lighthouse hadn't passed over his face again but now you were sure he was smiling and every muscle in your body twitched to grab his face in the darkness and kiss him until he was oxygen depleted.
"That's the worst joke I've ever heard, Aaron." But you shook with small laughter.
"Worse than the dead wife joke?"
"Okay, maybe not that bad."
Quiet fell again.
"You should go to sleep. We've got a long day tomorrow."
Fishing for the sheets, you lifted to tuck them under your chin. "Goodnight James."
"Goodnight."
-
Tags:
@montyfandomlove @aurorastuffsstuff @cdizzleswzzlebonzy @pureblood-blake @kad00x @lena-1895 @marimorena06 @farrah-444
#Aaron Hotchner#aaron hotchner fic#aaron hotchner x y/n#aaron hotchner fanfiction#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotch x reader#criminal minds#fake dating#criminal minds fanfiction#Spencer Reid#emily prentiss#David Rossi#Derek Morgan#penelope garcia#only one bed#mutual pining
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
The BG3 Beef I wanna see shitpost
While I do love the idea of Tav/Astarion/Karlach/whoever getting more unique mean dialogue with Ulder Ravengard, especially when he has the audacity to take up space in your camp like that instead of someone cooler like Barcus or that one bullied hyena, I want very specific flavor text that you'd only get in the epilogue party if you pick a specific ending even more.
I think if you romance Wyll as Gale or Gale as Wyll and then you don't go to Avernus, I think it would be totally galaxy brain to have dialogue in the epilogue that reveals Ulder Ravengard and Morena Dekarios fucking DESPISE one another. Because they absolutely would.
We never get to meet Morena in game but you can tell from what Gale and Tara say about her and Gale's... Galeness that she is at least a part time passenger on the "Fuck you my child is fine" train. Her sweet little boy? Commit evil deeds? Never! There has obviously been a mistake. I mean she indulged that "Gale Of Waterdeep" nonsense and when Gale summoned a full on Tressym after being explicitly denied a kitten as a child, she just let him keep her. No repercussions.
And then her sweet boy brings home another sweet boy who is probably EXACTLY what she pictured Gale's partner should be like.(Because Wyll is the damn blueprint for "Guy you could bring home to mom") Wyll is ridiculously sweet to Gale, he's the perfect gentleman, he's very open to the idea of giving Morena the grandchildren she's been nagging Gale about in the very near future. Pinch her, she must be dreaming!
I cannot imagine her reacting to Wyll's backstory with any amount of empathy towards Ulder, obviously that man is a cruel psychopath to throw poor Wyll out like that after "a tiny misunderstanding" and Wyll is just too good of a son not to see it. Which is partially true, Wyll is definitely still in some kind of denial stage over what his father did but that's not the point of the post.
Then there's Ulder who probably thinks Gale is... Fine. He's not someone he ever would have pictured for Wyll. Gale is a babbling oddball, he has chronic foot-in-mouth disease and has only ever met the pointy end of a sword. But he can't say anything because Gale saved him, his son, and Bulder's gate, and a small army of tieflings, and apparently a bunch of mushroom people and blah blah more reasons he can never have the moral high ground blah. He's undeniably stuck with this fucking wizard, and his nightmare of a mother.
Morena firmly believes that since the Ravengard manor is technically Wyll's now, then it's also Gale's and thus is now hers as well. When I say she would walk through the doors like she owned the place I mean it very literally. Where did Ulder's old helmet display go? "They were rusty and it was ruining the wooden shelves, besides these enchanted swords go better with the new drapes we had to get, I don't know how you didn't notice how moth eaten they were getting." Everyday he wakes up and something about his own damn home has been changed to make it look more like a wizard tower. She doesn't even live here most of the time!
And it doesn't stop there, not at all. No this women has to make sure his son doesn't live there full time either. Every holiday and birthday she has to send Gale a letter about how much she misses him and you should visit so you can take a break from all that(Very important!) work and how she already has the venison just for Wyll.
And every time he's forced to interact with this harpy she looks at him with a sweet smile on her face, honey in her voice and the burning hatred of a thousand suns in her eyes then somehow managed to insult him five times in one sentence without ever explicitly insulting him. This women is a devil from Avernus sent to punish him for his sins and she's even won over the grandkids. Obviously that women is a manipulative psychopath for using her control over Gale to manipulate his son. Which, yeah Gale not being able to say no to his mom has contributed greatly to this and if Wyll knew what healthy boundaries looked like he probably wouldn't have put up with it but he doesn't so here we are.
Let these two be the Tom and Jerry style B plot to BG4 is what I'm saying.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#gale dekarios#gale of waterdeep#bg3 gale#wyll ravengard#bg3 wyll#ulder ravengard#morena dekarios#gale x wyll#I don't know their ship name#I only ship it for the family drama#Astarion can also fill this role as Wyll's SO but this is funnier to me#bladeweave#thank you dromaeocore for telling me!
277 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's Better On Top
i relate cause this was me a few months ago.
Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 5.3K
Warnings: small smut scene, overprotective brothers and a small spiral of panic
Summary: you've always wanted to sleep on the top bunk of a bunk bed, it was sacrier than you thought and you need your boyfriend to help you get down
There was a child-like wonder to Peter’s room.
The wall’s were a muted tone, chosen by whichever maintenance man who hated the idea of color. To make up for the lack of personality he’s added his own. Posters from being a tween till now, you could make out the older ones by the wrinkles in the edges. Pictures from all ages bounced around the room, ones with May, Ned and you. You always liked to fawn over his childhood ones, he looked so small and loving. He’d gladly follow you in the back of the van to see your new puppy, a favorite is one where he’s perched on May’s shoulders so happy to be up high.
Awards and certificates of his genius covered any empty spots, only small peeks of the bland wall poked through. He had trinkets all around, figurines and collectables. He kept his prized ones on a shelf where he dusted once a week, the others floated on shelves, windowsills, or his desk. And the legos, he had sets everywhere, he hated breaking them apart after. It wasn’t about maintaining a pretty thing, it was about appreciating his frustration, concentration, and pride.
He can do hard things because they turn out beautiful in the end.
You caught the loose pieces, tucked in a plastic tub under his bed.
His bed. Your favorite part of his room, he had something you’ve always wanted before. You begged your parents for years but they never delivered, you never had friends with one either. They just looked so fun, a permanent sleepover. Something to open the room, more space to play. When you first came over to his house you stood in awe, he had one. It was too soon to ask, and you waited until the moment striked.
Tonight was the night you would finally fulfill your childhood dreams and sleep on the top bunk of a bunk bed.
“Question.”
Peter looked up from his desk for a moment, his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth slunk back in. He answered your words with a raised eyebrow, he grunted looking at his suit sewing up the shoulder.
“Can I sleep on the top bunk tonight?”
His eyes flickered up to the top, then back to his suit.
“Why do you wanna do that? I sleep on the bottom bunk, you know.” He tugged the thread tightly.
You do know, you’ve never been on top though. It felt like a summer camp, as you imagine. You’ve never been to one, you wonder if Peter has. To sleep in the same room as Peter, arm lengths away, to have him softly snoring underneath you as you count the stress fractures on his ceiling sounded blissful.
“I’ve never slept on a bunk bed.”
Peter looks at you and grins, “You sleep on it with me.”
You roll your eyes, “Yeah but I’ve never had the sleepover bunk bed experience.”
He drops his hands for a moment, “You never told me that, we could’ve done that ages ago baby.”
You perk up, “So tonight?”
Peter smiles softly, “I don’t know the last time the sheets were washed, I’ll set it up for you and I promise next time you can.”
You bounce up and down on his bed, you can’t help yourself. You’re just so excited, you leap up to cross the room to press kisses to his face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He laughed as he lightly pushed you off him, “If I had known it would make you this happy I would’ve had you up there a million times by now.”
You squeeze at him before clasping your hands, “It’s gonna be so fun, Petey. It’ll be like summer camp!”
He raised an eyebrow, “Does that make me your counselor?”
You ran your index finger down his chest and lowered your voice, “Shit sexy, you could be my camp director.”
He matched your energy, “I’ll direct your camp.”
You tried to bite back a smile, right before you broke it he sucked a breath through his teeth.
“That was bad.”
“It was.”
“Swing and a miss.”
“If you’re on my mound you won’t be missing.”
Peter fake gagged, “You’re just as bad as me, get away you’re radiating bad flirting vibes and it’s affecting me.”
You gasp and smack his shoulder, “Take it back! I’m not a bad flirt!”
He nods and puts on a dumb voice, “Okay.”
You cross your arms and narrow your eyes, Peter takes in your movements and gasps.
“Don’t you dare.”
“I will if you don’t take it back.”
“It’s not my fault you’re radiating bad flirting vibes.”
“That’s it, you have two seconds or the legislation is being enacted.”
Peter holds his breath and winces, he’s not breaking. Neither are you.
“I tried being reasonable, Parker. You’ve lost kissing privileges until you repent for your sins against hot, excellent flirter girlfriends.”
He holds a fist in the air and cries out, “Noooooo!”
“That doesn’t sound like an apology to me, me and my lonely lips are going back to your bed, where they will stay until I get a heartfelt apology.”
Peter pulled at the thread on his needle with his teeth snapping it. He tossed his suit on his desk and pulled at your arm as you walked away from him, spinning you around he pulled you into his lap and kissed you repeatedly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Each apology wrapped with a kiss. You giggled and kicked your feet and you pushed at his jaw but he insisted on kissing your jaw and neck.
“Okay, okay! Sins repented!”
“Did I do enough hail mary’s, my priest?” A wet kiss placed at your jawline.
“What kind of roleplay is this?” Peter jumped slightly, May was leaning in the doorway.
“I had to repent for my sins, May. I was just making sure I was in the clear.”
“He said I had bad flirting vibes, May. The boy had to be punished.”
May ran one index finger over the over in a ‘shame’ motion, “Shame.”
Peter groaned, “I repented! The priest gives me the pass, go back to Jeopardy, May.”
May raised her hands, “Alright, children of god. Dinner in an hour.”
She turned slowly as she walked away, “No more sinning under my roof, Peter. You’re on thin ice as is.”
He turned to whisper to you, “Did she just tell me I was going to hell?”
You nodded quickly and matched his tone, “Yeah baby, she did.”
Peter scoffed and looked at his suit with a sigh, “And just when a guy thinks he’s won enough good karma he’s tossed back in the hole.”
“I bet it's lonely down there.”
“And cold.”
“I picture rain.”
“Yeah, but it’s only on me so I can’t escape it.”
“Like one of those cartoons with the clouds above their head?”
“Exactly.”
“Damn. Well, I’ll send a postcard from heaven.”
“That is literally so toxic, get off of me.”
You threw your head back laughing as Peter lightly pushed at your thighs.
—----------------------
You couldn’t help the wicked grin that crossed your face, Peter Parker was many things but number one on the list is best boyfriend ever.
He had sent you a picture of the top bunk, it was taken from the ladder. A new set of sheets and your favorite throw blanket you kept on the couch was tucked in the corners of the bed. His childhood teddy bear was tucked in the railing against the wall, a small paper he wrote on was taped to the wall, you couldn’t read it over the phone.
‘Guess who’s gonna have the best sleepover of their life.’ Was the text sent with it, you couldn’t help but send one back of your cheesy grin. ‘Did I ever mention how much I love you?’
‘Once or twice, it doesn't hurt to hear it again.’
‘I love my handsome, thoughtful boyfriend.’
He sent a questioning emoji, ‘You have another boyfriend?’
‘It’s amazing how you can be lovely and toxic at the same time.’
‘Like a fuckin mirror babe.’
You grunted at the phone with narrowed eyes.
‘Be safe tonight, don’t die pls.’
‘I have a very important sleepover and my girlfriend is losing her bunk bed virginity, (twice) so I can’t die, the gods have spoken it into existence.’
‘Just for that comment, I lied. I wasn’t a virgin.’
‘Trust me, you were.’
You sent a grumpy face, ‘I’ll see you tonight, I love you.’
‘Love you too, baby.’
You could hardly count the minutes down until Peter got back from patrol and sent you the come over text, as silly as it was it felt like it was healing your inner childhood. Not to mention, unknown to you, Peter totally leaned into it and was committed to give you the best sleepover ever, snacks and drinks and take out and movies and everything you could want at a sleepover was carefully planned.
Staring at your dresser you contemplated showing up in pajamas or bringing a bag, you figured you should bring some real clothes just in case but you were committed to wearing one of his shirts with some pajama shorts, ones he would say were delicious on you. They were too short for you to bravely wear them on the bus so you begged your brother to take you, it only cost you twenty bucks, he let you off easy.
You knew he was busy swinging and you always hated the idea of sending him a text while he was possibly in the middle of kicking someone's ass and throwing him off, however, this was life or death.
‘Are we eating at yours or should I eat here?’
‘I planned on chinese, I should be home in an hour or two.’
"Sounds yummy, let me know when you’re on the way home, it only cost me a twenty to get a ride.’
‘Highway robbery, man up and strap some webshooters to those wrists.’
‘I’d die and you would be happy.’
‘Cash in on that life insurance.’
‘I knew you were with me for my money.’
‘And dat ass.’
‘I’m taking a shower.’
“Ooh, take a picture.’
—--------------------------------
You resorted to painting your toenails and watch a quick murder mystery video on youtube while you waited for Peter to call, the waiting was always the hardest part, you were selfish and wanted him when you wanted him, you just had to remind yourself it’s just like he has a normal job but with better flexibility.
It didn’t make it easier, you still wanted Peter more than the city deserved Spider-Man. You would never tell him that.
You steady your hand as you applied the second coat, you took the shower first and wouldn’t be able to wash away the color that went out of line.
Your phone lit up with a picture of Peter, he was rubbing at his eye with a soft grin, caught before a yawn. It was the morning of a sleepover and you caught him before he made you breakfast and smothered you in kisses between May’s wandering eyes.
“Hello lover.” You drawled out the words like you weren’t waiting for his call.
“Hey trouble.” His voice was as smooth as aged scotch on the rocks
You heard him breathe in quickly as the air wooshed by him, he was heading home you assume.
“I’m gonna stop and get us dinner, head over in ten, okay baby?”
“Get me soup too, please!”
“Got it. Wait, should I get your brother something?”
“Are you trying to wine and dine my sibling?” You giggle into the phone.
“I’m trying to make him like me.”
“Crab rangoons are a start.”
“He’s gonna be my bitch in five years, just you wait.”
“Playing the long game are you?”
“You know, if you want to slip how good of a boyfriend I am for fulfilling your childhood dream on that car ride I wouldn’t object.”
“Petey, honey. He doesn’t give a shit about my childhood dreams.”
“Siblings are brutal. Thank god I’m an only child.”
“I’ll get him to come inside, you can bro hug or whatever and give him his rangoons and he’s guaranteed gonna tell me you’re cool later in private.”
“You’re the bestest, see you soon, trouble.”
“Love youuuuu.”
The second you hung up you nearly kicked the door in at your brother's room and told him he had five minutes before he had to tote you across town, per agreement.
Minutes later you were riding in silence as he blasted a new playlist, you would never admit it but you found some good songs from him. At a red light he rested his hand on his gear shift, picking at his bottom lip he tried subtle conversation.
“Are you gonna need a ride home tomorrow or will the kid take care of it?”
“If you don’t feel like picking me up then Peter, my boyfriend, will take me home.” Then follow up with, “Or maybe stay another night.”
He shakes his head quickly, “I’ll pick you up, just text me when.”
“He’s coming on the trip this year, you have to be nice. He’s nice, he’s good to me.” You say his name softly, he’s told you before that it’s just him fearing for your heartbreak, something Peter could cause and he would have to watch you heal from that. He knows how true heartbreak feels and he would never want you to feel that too, he thought he was dying.
He accelerated at the green light.
“I don’t hate the kid, I just don’t like him.”
You sigh, “You can call him by his name, you won’t summon him I promise.”
“He’s nice, I’ll throw you that bone.”
“Just nice?”
“He seems to treat you alright, rare to have a freakishly chivalrous guy this day in age.”
“I’m telling Peter you said that, he’s so anxious about you hating him. He is so desperate for your approval it’s kinda sad.”
“Don’t! Intimidation is the only thing I have over him.”
You know he jokes about messing Peter up if he dares dump you but you know it’s all talk.
“You really think Peter’s gonna dump me?”
“Between the two of you? Yeah. You could never do it.”
You snort, “He said the exact same about himself.”
Your brother just hums and turns the music back up, there was no need to ask for directions, he’s been on this route hundreds of times in the past almost year.
When he pulled to the curb you made a puppy dog face, “will you please come up? I have something you need to bring home and I don’t want to have to go up and down twice.”
He pulled his eyebrows in, “You can’t bring it home tomorrow?”
Shit.
“No, mom needs it now. I forgot to ask Peter to bring it over earlier.”
“What is it?”
“C’mon, please! It’ll take five minutes.”
He stared at you before groaning and throwing his seat belt off, ripping the key from the ignition. Without waiting on you he opened his door and started walking to the entrance making you scramble to escape the seat and power walking to catch up.
You walked in on him mass spamming the elevator button as if it would make it come faster, “what floor is the kid on again?”
“Peter.” you enunciated, “Lives on floor seven.”
“Right.”
He knocked, no, pounded on the door. Peter swung the door open fast, half worried you were desperate to get in but rather met with your brother's face. He quickly reset himself and smiled before opening the door for you to enter, Peter held out his hand for a shake with a nod of his name.
Your brother shook his hand firmly, “Pecker.”
“Peter!” you corrected, loudly.
Peter waved it off, “close enough.” Then made his way to you leaning in for a quick kiss, “Hi, trouble.” You couldn’t help the smile. “Hi, handsome.” He gave you a squeezing hug and mumbled in your ear as he softly swayed you, “I missed you,”
Your brother let out a gag, “alright what did you need me to bring home, this place reeks of Parker.”
“Ah! I got you these,” he hopped into the kitchen to grab the small take away box. “Crab rangoons.” Peter nodded at the container as he handed it out, your brother took it wearily, “I don’t normally accept bribes but this one slides, that’s-“ he made eye contact with you, “very nice of you.”
You nodded your head and couldn’t help the growing grin, then he realized your game and gave a nod at Peter then turned to leave he pointed at you, “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”
“Oh you don’t have to, I can bring her home.”
Your brother looked over his shoulder at him, then repeated himself “I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”
When the door shut loudly Peter looked at you with an excited face, “that went well, right? He only referred to me as a penis once!” You smiled before grabbing at his shoulders moving him to the couch and straddling him, Peter rested his palms on your thighs lightly tapping them, his eyebrows raised waiting for you to talk.
“He didn’t want me to tell you this but because I love you, and I’m starting to feel extreme pity for you-“
“Thanks, baby.” A squeeze.
“-Welcome, he told me in the car that he thinks you’re nice and you treat me freakishly well, so in his words, “I don’t hate the kid, I just don’t like him.””
“At this rate he may even tolerate me by the time we go on vacation.”
You squeeze his shoulders and place a chaste kiss to his mouth, “The rangoons just put you at not complaining if you come over for dinner level.”
Peter threw his head back, “Let’s goooooo.”
You let out a small sigh, he tried so hard. “It’s not personal Pete, he just doesn’t want you to hurt me and not that he would admit it, I think a part of him doesn’t want to like you because if we were to ever split he would miss you too.”
He pulls a dumb face, “okay but has he considered we won’t break up, like ever?”
You shrug, “Yeah, about that..”
Peter rolls his eyes and flips you to pin you to the couch, “you stop it, woman. I am going to wine, dine and bed you before banishing you from mine tonight.”
“Don’t wanna make the bed rock from up top?”
“And have my head whack the ceiling a million times? No.”
“I could be on top.”
“And have you whack your head on the ceiling? Absolutely not.”
“You’re such a gentleman, do you have any objections to making the couch rock?”
Peter dropped his jaw and scoffed, he looked over your face looking for your bluff, you weren’t kidding. He supported himself with one hand as the other slipped under his— your shirt, “You know May uses this couch.”
You nod as you wrap your legs around his waist pulling him in, “I know.”
He groans when you grind against him, “It would be dirty of us, we shouldn’t.”
You look in his eyes as he watches you pull up slightly pulling your shirt off, he glances at your chest before looking back at you. “We shouldn’t,” you agree with him as you shuffle your pajama shorts down your thighs, Peter lets out a room quieting gasp when you pull him from his pants.
“Fuck you’re eager.”
You lean up to place a kiss below his ear, “I’m just showing how much I missed you.”
He let out another curse when you rolled your hips into his, “You’re dirty, so so dirty.” ————————-
Peter had woken you up from the couch around one in the morning, he had let you sleep through the last half of the movie you had started. And you were sleepy until he woke you up and started to push you towards his room and seeing his bedside lamp light up the room woke you up more.
Rubbing at your eye you speak through a yawn, Peter still understands.
“Course you can still sleep up top.”
He pulls down his own sheet and shakes his own yawn, you start to climb up the ladder and notice the higher you got the shakier your knees became, then you slightly duck because you’re closer to the ceiling than you estimated.
With a slight turn over your shoulder your tongue melts in your mouth, it’s higher up than what you thought. And sure, you’re not a kid and it’s just a bunk bed but it feels like all rational thinking went out the window, it was high up and you can’t help but think about the fall down.
“Help?”
Peter looked at you with a tilted head and his hands on his hips, he was about to ask ‘help with what?’ but rather used his detective skills and nodded his head. He crossed the room and followed you up the ladder, as he followed up you were able to comfortably sit on the top bunk.
You crossed your legs with a small smile, like you didn’t just panic and ask for him to follow you up in case you somehow fell backwards. Peter’s eyebrows rise to ask if everything's okay, you open your arms for him to follow you down on the bed, you close him in with a tight hug.
“I love you.”
He laughs and places a kiss on your neck, “I love you too baby.”
“Okay, I’m ready. Tuck me in and call it a night, dad.”
Peter watched you shuffle under your blanket with a grunt at the title, he leaned over you to tuck in the sides so you were snuggled in. He pushed some hair out of your face and pressed a soft, longing kiss to your mouth.
“Goodnight, trouble.”
You bit your lip to suppress a grin, only a whisper left your mouth, “night.”
Only lasting five minutes of silence in the dark room, which was your preference by the way, Peter didn’t mind if a light was on but you claimed you couldn’t sleep in the light.
“It makes my eyelids see through, Peter.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
You called out to Peter.
“Pst, Peter.”
He has a stage whisper, “yeah?”
“Have you ever been to summer camp?”
He shuffles in bed, you think he’s pulling the blanket up.
“I’m poor.”
“I’ve never been either.”
“Notice you didn’t say you’re poor too?”
“Money is a mindset, Peter.”
“Sounds like you’re poor.”
A sigh, “I am.”
You hear him roll over, your own bed shakes with his jostle, you grip your sheets. Your slight edge sparked Peter’s senses.
“You okay up there?”
You wouldn’t object if he begged you to come sleep with him, but you were going to see out this childhood dream.
“Yeah. I miss you.”
He snorts, “Reach your hand down.”
You follow his instructions and wiggle your arm through the side bars, his hand encases your own. For a moment everything settles and you almost ask for him to come join you, but you’re terrified of the bed shaking.
“Couldn’t be further from you if I tried.”
“Will you do this all night?”
“And risk a frozen shoulder for you?” He shoots out, then adds, “Of course I would.”
“Aw, you’re such a good friend!”
His hand squeezes yours, “what kind of a friend?”
You giggle, “the bestest!”
“Wrong B word, dear.”
You gasp, “ I don’t think you’re a bitch, Peter!”
He groans, “That’s it, fend for yourself. Goodnight, traitor.”
Peter’s hand drops from yours and he turns towards the wall, you whine when he pulls away from you. “Fine then, goodnight, Parker.”
You hear him mumble to himself and grin while you let sleep take over.
——————————
Your phone said it was four twenty three in the morning.
You wonder when Peter will wake up, if he would rise when the sun did or, more likely, sleep until you wake him up when you get too bored of entertaining yourself like you usually do.
You have to pee, bad.
You got as far as one step on the ladder then felt yourself slightly sway, you tried to find the next step but were too scared to extend your foot all the way to reach it.
You tried looking back and cursed yourself for sleeping in the pitch black tonight, you were in limbo between sending it and hopping down and crawling back up and waving a white flag.
Deciding you were a grown badass you forced yourself to take the next step and nearly slipped, Peter’s foot was resting right between the steps and his blanket made the step slick. You nearly fell backwards, in a rush you climbed back up and checked the time to see if you could wait it out.
You were able to wait for ten minutes, then a cramp hit and all you can think about is the toilet ten steps away.
Calling quits you realize your only hope was Peter, and he was dead asleep judging by his snores. Nevertheless, you start to plead.
“Peter?” A whisper.
“Peter.” A little louder.
He snores loudly at that one.
“Peter!” A whisper shout.
He’s not answering.
He’s not answering, and he’s not awake, and you can’t get down, and you have to pee and you were the one that wanted this.
You blink back tears, why do you want to cry?
“Peter!” You spoke in a regular but quiet voice.
He stays silent, you start to chant his name over and over, he doesn’t respond.
On the fourth call your tears break through, you sigh heavily. Tears dripped down your chin into your hands, you called out one more time, begging.
“Peter, please.”
You sniffle, then let out a breath of fresh air.
“Baby?” It’s raspy and spoken through a sharp inhale, he feels like cold water has been dumped on him.
He stares at the slats above him like he has x-ray vision to see through them to you.
“Peter! I can’t- I don’t know how- I have to-“ You start to breath heavy, your eyes flooding with panic and embarrassment, and you really fucking have to pee.
Peter untangled himself to stand up, he pulled down a leg of his boxer briefs that had risen with his tossing and turning.
“What’s wrong?”
You gasp for air, you feel the bed shake when he pulls at the ladder to pull himself up. You wrap your hands around your head, “I wanna get down, I wanna get down!”
You repeat the words over and over until you feel hands over your own, the bed dips where Peter has his knees on either side of you. He wraps you tight in his arms, “It’s okay, you’re okay. We can get you down, it’s okay.” You wind your arms around his, tucking yourself in your neck to start to cry.
Peter’s heart hurts, you’re scared.
“You’re safe. I’m here, okay?”
He feels your warm breath wash over his chest, you try and calm yourself down, it’s not as scary when Peter has you surrounded.
“I couldn’t get down and you wouldn’t wake up.”
Peter frowns between your studders, he hates that you were calling out for him and he didn’t hear it.
“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m here now, okay? Wanna get down?”
You nod into his neck, “I have to pee so bad.”
Peter breathed through a smile and kissed the top of your head, “okay, let’s go pee.” He pulled himself away and started to go down the ladder, you watched him with wide eyes trying to memorize his steps so you could match.
You looked up and noticed how close you were to the ceiling, your throat felt like it closed up. You could feel how shaky your knees were even looking at the space to go down, you figured you would wet the bed tonight.
“I’m right here, trouble. I won’t let you fall, I promise.”
You shake your head, “I can’t. I tried and I can’t.”
Peter hums and looks around the room, he can’t carry you down. The physics wouldn’t allow him too, his only option was catching you.
“Can you sit on the railing for me, baby?”
You reached out a hand to wiggle it, it seemed sturdy.
“Okay.”
You white knuckled the banister when it creaked under your weight, “Peter, get me down, please get me down. I’m gonna freak out.”
“I need you to trust me, sweetheart. Just drop.”
You hold on tighter, your voice squeaks. “Drop?!”
“I gotta catch you, I can’t carry you down, baby.”
You look over to the window, the moon was lighting up one side of the room, you can barely make out his figure on the side of the bed.
“Can you see me?”
He lets out a small laugh, “Yes, baby, I can see you.”
You buffer and hold up a hand, “How many fingers am I holding up?” The other hand has a vice grip to steady you.
“Four.”
You whine, “I’m scared.”
Peter’s heart hurts again.
“I know you are, I promise I’ll catch you, okay?”
“Okay.” You don’t sound very confident.
“I’m gonna let go.”
“I’m ready.”
You loosen your grip then immediately double down.
“Okay, I’m gonna drop now.”
“Got it.”
You stay there for another second.
“Baby, you gotta let go.”
“Be honest, will you be mad if I wet the bed?”
“No, but how are you gonna get down after that?”
You breathe in deeply, “I’m gonna actually do it, you promise you’ll catch me?”
“I promise.”
You loosen your hold to push off, “I’m about to let go.”
“I’m right here.”
You hold your breath and push off as hard as you could, your hair breezes and your body feels weightless for just a moment. Then you’re caught, hands wrap around your back and thighs, you feel yourself bounce in his hold then level out.
“Caught you.” Peter’s voice is a whisper in your ear, you kick your legs to be let down. You immediately turn to wrap him in a hug, “thank you, I love you.” Then push him back to sprint to the bathroom.
When you come back in he’s back in bed, his blanket open for you to join. You couldn’t help but feel like a little kid, but it was dark and high up and to be fair you couldn’t see where you were going.
Sliding next to him his eyes open, “the first time I was on top bunk I was like, seven and I had a nightmare and I couldn’t get down and was screaming so loud May woke up and had to come rescue me.”
“I didn’t realize I'd feel so trapped up there.”
He hums, “It does feel like that, huh?”
“You were my hero tonight, you’re good at that. Maybe you should look into a job doing that.”
“I may have to look into it, I’m tired of being New York City’s Spider-Menace.” Then decides to add, “I’m sorry you were scared and needed me and I wasn’t waking up. You must’ve been petrified.”
“I don’t think I’m ever gonna go up there again.”
He laughs, “that’s okay.”
You roll over to stick your face against his arm. “Sorry I woke you up.”
“Your tears were coming through the slats, it was chinese water torture.” You open your mouth to bite at him, he grunts. “I’ll let you get away with that, you had a scary night.”
“Remember earlier when we were talking about B words?”
Peter hums, he’s falling back asleep. He never used to fall asleep so fast until he met you, having you tucked into his side always made him sleep soundly.
“You’re the best boyfriend ever.”
He opens his arm to pull you into him, “you make it easy.”
#peter parker x reader#peter parker angst#peter parker blurb#peter parker fluff#tasm!peter one shot#tasm!peter x reader#tasm!peter x you#tasm fic#peter parker fic#my writing
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Space And Time
(Song by S.G Goodman)
pairing: luke castellan x AphroditeFem!reader
Warnings: Angst, kissing, death, description of death, spoilers for the end of the lightening thief
From the moment she stepped into the camp, her life became a tapestry woven with threads of fate and love. She was beautiful, a child of aphrodite would have to be. She met Luke the day he arrived, Luke Castellan, a year older but relatively new to the camp, entered her orbit as a lost boy with big brown eyes and curly hair that fell in front of his eyes, clothes drenched to the bone and accompanied by a little girl with a tight grip on his hand. He was fourteen and angry.
Unclaimed by her godly parents, she sought a transient haven in the Hermes cabin. Positioned directly above Luke's bunk, she could practically sense the intensity of his gaze burning through the shitty mattress. She could feel his emotions, every stomach twist and finger twitch reverberating through the thin barrier between them.Curiosity got the best of her, prompting her to peer over the edge of the bunk, startling Luke from his thoughts. He snapped his head, obviously startled and scared.
"Sorry, I just wanted to see if you were okay," her short hair barely touches her back when she stands but as she hangs her head off the top of the bunk, long strands fall over her ears. Gaining a clearer view of his face, she thought he was pretty for a boy. Her eyesight adjusted, and with a closer examination, she almost whispered in a yell, "You're bleeding!"
In response, Luke's hand instinctively rose to the top of his head, where the blood had begun to congeal and cling to his hair. His gaze lowered to his hand, the tips of his fingers stained with red. A hand places itself over his, holding it, when he looks up the girl has come down from her bed and is using an old top to dab away the blood.
He hadn't uttered a single word, and yet she was already helping him, leaving him utterly perplexed. Her eyes, intensely focused on the task at hand, seemed to possess a magnetic quality. When her gaze shifted downward to meet his eyes, he felt a sensation as if Eros himself had unleashed an arrow, piercing straight through his heart.
"Than- thank you," he stammered, his words stumbling over each other. "Don't thank me, it's the least I could do," she responded with a smile, "God she’s gorgeous.” he thought.
Now three years later, and she found herself seated in the stands at the training arena, feet propped up on the seat in front of her, a bag of almonds in her lap. Her once-short hair had grown, now cascading over her shoulders and collarbone. Her mother said it suited her so she kept it. She was watching Luke train, he was cutting through practice dummies ruthlessly.
Beads of sweat roll down his temple making his hair damp. His chest rises and falls as hot breaths escape his mouth, Her playful heckle cuts through the air, breaking the intensity of his focus. "Do you think you can hit that thing any harder?" she teased, a smirk playing on her lips.
Luke's head snapped in her direction, his intense gaze softening into a momentary smile. He wiped the sweat from his brow and shook his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Maybe I should ask the dummy if it thinks I'm being too harsh," he replied. The end of his sword jabbing into it.
Her laughter was like a melody, filled the air, and Luke couldn't help but revel in the joy of making her laugh. As she began tying her hair up, he couldn't help but appreciate the simplicity of the moment
She giggled, finishing tying her hair up. She gracefully hopped down a few steps before leaping down from the stands, landing gracefully onto the gravel ground. Dusting off her jeans casually, she sauntered over to where Luke was, an energy in her movements that drew his attention.
Walking behind Luke, she became the focal point of his gaze. Intrigued, he watched as she positioned herself in front of the training dummy, her hands resting on its shoulders as though the inanimate object were seeking her fashion advice. Luke tilted his head to the side, crossing his arms, a smile playing on his lips at the whimsical scene before him.
"Maybe it needs a break," she teased, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips when she looked back over her shoulder at him.
Luke chuckled at her playful remark, the sound echoing in the training arena. He unfolded his arms, the playful glint in his eyes turning into a full-fledged grin. "Perhaps," he replied, joining in "I wouldn't want the poor thing to file a complaint with Chiron about the harsh treatment."
"Oh, imagine the headlines: 'Camp Half-Blood in Disarray as practice Dummies Demand Justice!'" Her laughter danced through the air. She took a step back from the training dummy, her eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "Well, Mr. Dummy, you've been spared for today," she declared with a mock-serious expression, earning another chuckle from Luke.
As if on cue, two younger kids burst into the arena, their presence announced by boisterous yells. "Chiron says you two are late!" Luke turned to look at them, a grin forming on his face. "Yeah, alright. We'll be there," he responded with an easygoing nod.
As the younger demigods scampered off to deliver the message, Luke began packing up his training gear. She observed him taking his armour off. He sharpens the blade of his sword, he pulls back the muscles in his arms tense and then releases for a moment before she starts to walk towards him.
"Race you to the woods?" She proposed a challenge in her tone. Her eyes tracing him, he laughs and puts the sword on the rack. Luke raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "You're on," he declared, the familiar thrill in his voice.
As they run out of the arena dust pools around their feet, Luke almost slips on the small rocks to try and catch up with her. leaving behind the fading echoes of their laughter. When the tree’s start to come into view their leaves fly over the top of them. He catches up to her. Just, he grabs her hand and she looks back. She pulls on his hand and he stumbles forward and her back foot catches on a root. As they stumbled as they a little the forest floor seemed to shift, and laughter turned to surprise as they tumbled down a hill.
As they tumbled down the hill, Luke instinctively pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her as they hit the ground with a thud. The world became a blur of leaves and twigs.
When they finally reached the bottom of the hill, Luke looked down at her, his arms still encircling her. "Are you okay?" he asked, lifting himself up with his arms so that he could look down at her. His eyebrows furrowed with concern as he scanned her face for any signs of injury.
She laughed, the sound a melody of amusement that echoed through the woods. "I'm fine, just a bit shaken," she reassured him, her hand circling his upper arm with a reassuring touch.
"Are you sure?" Luke asked, his eyes still reflecting worry.
"Yes, Luke, jeez," she smiled, rolling her eyes playfully. Her hand moved from his arms to his face, her fingers gently tracing over his soft skin. Her gaze was fixed on her hand, but Luke found himself captivated by the delicate movements of her fingers.
As her eyes darted towards his, the world seemed to pause for a moment. In that suspended instant, their connection deepened, and he felt the magnetic pull drawing him closer. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, she closed the distance between them and kissed him.
Time seemed to stand still as the forest around them held its breath, a witness to the unexpected turn of events. Luke's eyes closed instinctively, savouring the warmth of the kiss and the rush of emotions that accompanied it. He pulls away “your so pretty” she says, her breath coming back to her.
His brain seemed to fail him, a cascade of thoughts and emotions rendering him momentarily speechless. His gaze drifted downward, but her fingers found his chin, gently lifting it to meet her eyes. “I don’t want to leave this world without saying,” she began, a breath catching in her throat, she knew that every day at this camp could be her last “I love you.” He finished her sentences, a knowing smile playing on his lips.
They lay on the grass for a while, the world around them fading into the background. Luke on his back, and she on her stomach, propped up on her elbows to gaze at him. The wind, a gentle caress, whispered through the leaves overhead.
"There's some who have loved me," he said, his fingers delicately playing with the loose strands of hair that danced lightly on her face. "Some who have tried." His touch shifted to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin. "They all have their grips on my heart and grips on my mind."
She stayed quiet, a pretty smile gracing her lips as her hand gently found its way to his. The tranquillity of the moment lingered between them, the soft rustle of leaves above providing a gentle soundtrack to their shared contemplation.
"That's poetic," she finally remarked, her light laughter breaking the quietude of the woods.
"It's supposed to be romantic," he retorted with a playful grin, their hands entwining in a silent agreement that transcended words.
The sword slid between her armour and into her flesh, a burning sensation that seared through her. The edges of the blade stung, and tears welled up in her eyes, Her hand shakes as she brings it to his face. Her thumb runs over the scar that splits his face. She remembers when he came back with that wound. it was a quest he was sent on after that day in the woods. “Luke” she gasped, the pain sharp and agonising. But Luke wasn’t there. He hasn’t been there, not for a while.
He pulls out his sword and her body falls to its knees and then falls to her side her breaths stopped. Luke stumbled back, his gaze shifting upward to the sky. When his eyes returned to her, still and lifeless, he threw the sword aside, its metallic clang echoing in the emptiness of the battlefield. Tears streamed down his face, silent sobs escaping him as he dropped to his knees beside her.
His hands grab at her armour pulling her lifeless form close to him. She’s still, with little to no breath. Blood stained his hands as the deep wound bled through both sides of her body. Desperation etched across his face, he fought with her hair, pushing it back from her
"No... no no no no," Luke cried, the words escaping his lips in a tortured whisper. "I love you," he whispered, the sincerity of the words wavering in his own ears. He could only lie, that's all he was good for. He screwed his eyes shut not wanting to look at her.
Soft fingers dusted over his face “that day in the woods” she coughed, her voice strained. “it was clear to me” she persisted, “you owe your life to even your enemies” she coughed again, like her breath was catching in her vocal cords “To the ones who have loved you, to the ones who have tried” her hand slowly lowered, she knows he can see her.
"I want you to know, I'm not leaving this world without saying," she couldn't finish the sentence, her eyes falling back, her body growing still. Cold was all he could feel – her cold body in his arms.
He shot up, out of bed. Hot tears spilled down his face. He sobbed into his hands, curling his knees into his chest like he was a boy. He had lost her forever. He cried for her, he was inconsolable, not that anyone would be there to comfort him. Alone in the dark, he clutched at nothing, cursed at memories he could never replace and that he could never get back. In these moments, he was just Luke – a fractured soul, grappling with the enormity of his choices. He was Luke Castellan, a traitor. a killer.
#luke castellan#luke castellan fic#luke pjo#luke castellan x fem!reader#luke castellan x reader#pjo spoilers#luke castellan x you
240 notes
·
View notes
Text
one bed troupe w/ Beel
a/n if this makes little to no sense it's because i'm writing this while tired lol
It was yet another day of fun. Everything had been perfect up until the end of that day. After hearing you’d never been before, Beel immediately vowed to take you camping. Like the real deal camping. He spent at least an hour trying to pick the best spot to take you, and while he was usually very willing to take others with him on these kinds of expeditions, he didn't allow anyone else except his twin to come along, who surprisingly said no. Usually, he would say yes, to get away from Lucifer and to enjoy the night sky, but it appeared as if he had something up his sleeve. Strange, but not too out of character for him. You left for your trip shortly after, and most everything had gone smoothly.
That morning, you’d awoken to the sound of Beel’s stomach from outside your tent, signaling it was time to make breakfast. After a simple breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast, Beel decided it was finally time to take you kayaking on the nearby river. You opted to spend a little time enjoying the nature in a hammock he’d set up while he got everything you needed and mapped your route and fell asleep in it. When he came back from getting the two kayaks, he accidentally hit your and flipped you out of the hammock. After the initial confusion had ended, you both got a laugh out of it.
The kayaking down the river was also loads of fun. The scenery was very pretty and you saw several kinds of birds that you hadn’t seen from your camp site. Since you were each in your own vessel, once you got tired, all you had to do was tether yourself to Beel’s, and he towed you along behind him. Originally, you’d planned to have just one tandem for the both of you, but you figured you’d be basically up in the air with how uneven then weight distribution would be. So, he packed a length of rope to tether you to him if you needed a break, which you did. The scenery was very pretty, and just laying back and enjoying the tree coverage was enough for you.
However, upon arriving back, you discovered something had happened to your campsite. Your tent, and a couple things near it had been basically crushed by a large branch you'd set up under on purpose. You had both just been sitting in that very branch yesterday, and it seemed fine. The things outside the tent were alright, and so were a couple things inside. But unfortunately the two most important things were damaged: your tent itself, and your sleeping bag. An offshoot of the large branch had punctured both of your things, making them unusable until you could get them fixed, if possible. You shuddered thinking about what may have happened to you if you were inside the tent when that fell. Beel seemed to have the same thought, as he immediately proposed moving his tent to a space with no tree coverage, and that he'd share it with you.
After working together to move the remaining intact tent and packing up yours as best as possible, you spent the rest of the day as normal. You did another hike that afternoon, and enjoyed dinner together, before having to revisit the sleeping situation.
"You can change inside the tent. I'll turn around." Beel already had his back to you as he began packing up your things from your meal. Thankfully, your bag of things, including your clothes was alright, albeit a little dirty.
"Thanks, Beel." You made your way into his tent, where he'd set it back up the way he had it before you'd moved it together. It was pretty tidy. You had already placed your bag next to his. You opened it and quickly changed into your sleep clothing. For a moment, you lingered in the tent. While you'd only given it a little thought, now the idea was really sinking in: you'd have to share that sleeping bag with Beel. Not that you were opposed to the idea, as the two of you had slept in the same room before, and he only snored a little. The mere thought of being that close to him for that amount of time flustered you. After all, you'd been given a few piggyback rides over the course of your trip together, and that was more than enough proof that he felt as chiseled as he looked. Knowing he needed your help cleaning up for the night, you abandoned that thought temporarily.
"I'm done. Feel free to head in. I can finish putting out the fire." You smiled at him.
"Thanks. I'll be quick." He ducked into the tent you'd just felt, leaving you alone in the night to contemplate the day, and how misfortunate you'd been. As unlucky as that fallen branch may had been, maybe it was your blessing in disguise. While you now needed some way to get it repaired, you now got to spend the rest of the trip snuggled up with the best hugger you'd ever met nightly. Looking on the bright side was all you could do.
Soon enough, it was time to head to bed. You headed into the tent, zipping it shut. It felt much smaller when the both of you were in it at the same time. You weren't really sure what to do, so you just hovered by the exit, looking anywhere but the sleeping bag. Beel seemed to have no problem, and headed right over to it. After sliding it, he held it open with one arm.
"Here, Mc. Are you coming?" After he said this to you, you snapped out of your daze, and, while a little apprehensive, you got in with him. Your bodies were flush to each other, being forced to make eye contact the way you were laying. The sleeping bag was made for his height, so your feet didn't reach the bottom like he did. You stared at each other in silence for a moment. Not really knowing what to do with your arms, you tucked both of them under your head to act as a pillow. You were kind of afraid you'd start snuggling him in the middle of the night. Beel, on the other hand, seemed like he had no such fear, and put both of his arms around you.
"So, anything you have planned for tomorrow for us?" You tried your best to break the silence and to make things less awkward. That effort was mostly for you, since Beel seemed totally comfortable. It was like, to him, this was normal.
"Well, since we've done a few hikes already, and you seemed fine, I figured we could hike one of the harder trails up the nearby mountain. We have to pass through a small town on the way there, so we can stop at a restaurant." You began to laugh as you felt his stomach grumble. Your laughing made him smile. In that moment, the entire situation seemed like something that happened before a million times, and this was part of your nightly routine.
"Alright. Sounds good to me. Well, good night. Thanks for letting me share with you." You deemed going to sleep would help you escape the initial awkwardness of this situation, so you shut your eyes. You were pretty tired anyways. Soon enough, the both of you were asleep.
As he usually did, Beel awoke in the middle of the night, hungry. However, he remembered pretty quickly he wasn't alone that night. Sometimes, he wandered into your room after he was finished raiding the fridge, but it felt so much more warm and welcoming to wake up in a warm bed. Well, sleeping bag. Despite initially laying on your arms, they had found their way onto him and had intertwined your legs together. Your head was pressed into his neck, one arm wrapped around his torso, one underneath him somehow. He rolled the both of you over so you were on top of him to take any pressure off of your limbs. The way you shifted after he rolled caused you to snuggle him more.
Suddenly, he didn't feel so hungry anymore. It was like his hunger had finally been satiated for once in his life. He hardly remembered the feeling it'd been that long. The sight of you fast sleep, slightly smiling against his skin was more than enough for him and filled him with something he couldn't quite explain.
With the warm, fuzzy feeling in mind, he was able to drift back to sleep. Maybe he needed to start doing this more often.
224 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hurt
Astarion x Y/N - drabble - 1.1K WC
Masterlist
Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, being mean to each other, fighting, fluff ending
------------------------
You normally didn’t mind, you really didn’t. His little quips and remarks usually made you laugh. But as of late they were making you uncomfortable, beyond that they were making you sad. You were sure he meant no harm but nevertheless harm was caused. Like little paper cuts on your heart. Today had hurt especially. He dodged your morning kiss, making a face that you could only describe as disgust. He made you the butt of most jokes. You didn’t even stay in his tent at night anymore because he never came to you, staying out all night doing gods know what or sleeping away from you.
“You have a type don’t you? Elven prostitutes… honestly darling it’s pathetic.” Astarion said as you finished speaking with the drow twins. His voice was unimpressed and dismissive of you.
Your face fell and you felt your eyes grow wet. You handed Karlach the crude map the drows gave you, leading to the wine festival you were to attend in order to stop a series of murders. “Were done for the day.” you said stoically, leaving Sharess’ Caress. The sun was just beginning to dip down behind the mountains. You waved your hand, golden flakes enveloping you. Your armor was gone and you were left in simple clothes. A hand clasped your shoulder, stopping you from walking.
“Love…” Astarion started.
You cut him off, “Leave me alone.” you said, harshly shrugging his hand off your shoulder and shoving him away. You turned and started to walk off again. Ever persistent, he followed you. He grabbed your wrist with a much softer grasp but you were having none of it. Gold flowed from your hand, forming a small dagger. You yanked your hand away before pointing the knife at his throat, “I won’t ask again.” you spat at him. His face contorted. He looked hurt, wounded by your words and actions. And honestly, you felt good. He was finally feeling what had been building up in you for weeks.
He watched you disappear in the crowds of Baldur’s Gate. What had he done? He knew exactly what. He was not kind to you as of late. This bitter pit inside of him had him acting irrationally. He knew exactly what it was. He loved you so he was trying to push you away. And by the looks of it, he was succeeding. He sighed, dropping his head. You needed space, so he would give it to you. He returned to camp with the others. He anxiously awaited your return, trying to come up with what he would say to you.
-----------------------------
You wandered the city, not sure where you were trying to end up. You just wanted to be away. Eventually you made it out of the city and into the wilderness. You sat on the edge of a cliff. You watched the ocean below crash against the rock over and over again. You finally shed your tears. You tried not to blame yourself but you had no idea what had changed in him. You knew what you had to do, now you just needed to gather the courage to do it. You were the leader, you had to be strong.
Deep into the night you returned to camp. Astarion watched you walk to your tent. You lit a few candles, your tent illuminating him as he edged closer. You were taking your trousers off when he walked in. You pulled them back up with a huff and pulled your large shirt down to cover you.
“Hardly the first time I’ve seen you without clothes…” said Astarion, trying to lighten the mood.
“That was the past.” you said in a flat voice before you pushed past him to grab your brush. You brushed your hair in the mirror, acting as if he was invisible.
Astarion’s undead heart felt like it was trembling. You weren’t upset, you were angry. He had never seen you angry and he had a feeling he was about to experience a side of you he was unprepared to meet.
“Darling…” he started, reaching towards you.
You turned around, dodging his hand. “No. You don’t get to call me that anymore.” you said confidently, yet inside your heart was breaking.
Astarions face turned soft, scared. “What should I call you then?”
“Y/N. I am nothing to you beyond a traveling companion, so treat me as such.” your face was cold, your eyes were sharp.
“My sweet, please…” he said. You shot him a glare for the pet name but he persisted. “Y/N…”
“Do you have anything of value to say? If not, I need rest.” you sauntered over to your bedroll, half expecting him to leave. With the way he was treating you, he should be jumping at the chance to leave.
“I’m sorry.” he said in a small voice.
You had never heard him like that, even in his softer moments. You forced your eyes to meet his and noticed the lone tear falling down his cheek. “Were nothing to each other Astarion, you hardly have anything to be sorry for. You should go.” you said, doing your best to keep up the facade.
“No!..” he blurted. You quirked an eyebrow at him. “... please just let me say my piece… If you still want me to go afterwards, I will without fuss.”
You sighed before nodding at him.
“I’m sorry… for everything. I’ve acted monstrously towards you as of late. I… I love you… and I’m so scared I didn’t know what to do… I tried to push you away. But once you were gone… everything felt worse. I don’t know what to do… but I do know I’m sorry for hurting you.” he said in a calm tone but you could hear the slight panic.
“You love me?” you asked him, unsure if you heard him right.
“More than you can imagine.” he said with the smallest smile.
“You fucking idiot...” you mumbled.
His smile completely dropped off, he nodded curtly as he turned to walk out. You grabbed his wrist, turning him towards you before you crashed your lips to his. He let out a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding. He squeezed you close to him, holding your face in his hands, scared you would disappear if he didn’t.
“You’re a fucking moron… but you’re my fucking moron.” you kissed him again. You wiped a tear from his face, he nuzzled his head into your hand.
“I’m so sorry…” he whispered.
You shushed him, “We were both rash, we both made judgment errors. I’m sorry too.” you kissed his cheeks. “Let's go to bed?”
“My sweet, I’d like nothing more.” he smiled at you, hugging you close before descending to the bedroll with you. “And if I’m honest, you holding a knife to my throat was rather… erotic.” He said with lust in his voice and a wink of his eye.
--------------------------
Naboo's Note:
Hello! I love a little angst so here we go! Hope you all enjoy, love you all so much! XOXOXOXOXO!!!
#baldurs gate 3#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#bg3#writing#gale of waterdeep#bg3 wyll#karlach#lae'zel#isekai#fanfiction#fanfics#ao3 fanfic#archive of our own#ao3 writer#ao3fic#bg3 gale#bg3 fanart#bg3 tav#bg3 spoilers#bg3 astarion#bg3 art#baldurs gate#tav#baldurs gate gale#baldurs gate astarion#baldurs gate fanart#baldurs gate iii#baldurs gate tav#gameplay
385 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
disteal
Disteal
gojohater101
💮aia💮
anorexic-beauty
why did i eat?
poeticaces
PoeticAces
wolven-nature
A Different reality