#maybe getting musical kids from other cabins | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sayoneee · 5 months

Text

☆ POISON

“miss her, kiss her, love her, wrong move you’re dead, that girl is poison” - bell biv devoe (2.2k)

contains: luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite! reader. acquaintances to friends to secretish lovers. silena + drew mentions. during tlt.

kashaf’s note: u cant tell me a group of teenagers lived together at summer camp and no one had secret parties. dont @ me for the 90s music references (+ i imagine avantika vandanapu as silena, and momona tamada as drew)

i. and if there was a problem / yo, i'll solve it

“CASTELLAN?” YOU APPROACHED him slowly, tone cautious as if you were speaking to a wounded animal, although in this case, maybe you were, as you reached for his bruised knuckles, remaining persistent, even as he tried to withdraw his hands out of your grasp. “why’d you do that?”

“did i need a reason?” there is a forced jocularity to his words, a well-practiced mask he is never seen without, and you cringe slightly, your gaze catching the grimace that twists his lips. his attempt at a ‘roguish’ grin falls flat, the expression a discordant note against the backdrop of his injuries. luke’s already busted lip splits open, a thin line of crimson carving a river down his chin. he moves to wipe it off the back of his arm, but you’ve already pulled off the bandana tying up your hair (a birthday present from a half-sibling) and begun rubbing at his face.

luke’s eyes widened at the gesture.

despite being tentative acquaintances since your arrival, you’re still annoyed that luke castellan continues to underestimate just how much of his heart he wears on his sleeve — or rather, just how well you manage to see past his facade. his blatant lie hangs in the air, unacknowledged. instead, you deliberately shift your gaze to the purples and blacks that mar his knuckles, setting about wrapping them with your bandana, obscuring the damage.

“i could’ve done that myself,” luke says, amused, his words lightly appreciative. still, at your answering glare, he tosses his hands in the air in surrender as ‘ice ice baby’ continues in the background, uninterrupted, “but thank you, though.”

“i’m no apollo kid, but it’ll do,” you shrug instead of accepting the gratitude, tugging him to his feet, ensuring to grab his uninjured hand, and hauling him outside.

“you’re no apollo kid, and you decide to take the injured man away from where the apollo kids are actually gathered,” luke muses, once again entertained with himself (was there any other emotion this boy could experience besides amusement?), once the lights of the apollo cabin are so far behind you, neither of you could fully see each other.

“you’ll live,” you say, scowling at him through the darkness, forgetting he couldn’t actually see you.

“and you’re moody for a daughter of aphrodite,” he says, still holding onto your hand as he trails after you.

you stop in your tracks, pinch the bridge of your nose, count to three, and finally turn to luke, who still has his stupidly pleased-with-himself expression on his face. “luke castellan, if you don’t end up dying of some tragic fate or the other i will hunt you down myself.”

“duly noted.”

“holy hera, do you even want to know where i’m taking you?”

“nah, i think the mystery really adds some suspense.”

“that’s it, i give up,” you say, before beginning to drag him back to the apollo cabin, when he plants his feet in the dirt ground firmly, grinning crookedly at you as the moonlight finally shines through the clouds, suddenly bathing him in a luminescent glow.

“nah, c’mon, let’s go to your spot.”

you glare at him, watching how his stupid grin only seems to grow in size, an annoyingly endearing trait. with a sigh, you continued to drag him along, scowling each time he tried to make a quip.

“what if we get to your spot, and i find out this was all just a ploy to murder me?” luke muses out loud, looking thoughtful for once.

“do you seriously believe that if i was gonna murder you, i wouldn’t have done it by now?” you say, pausing when he shrugged in agreement, “we’re here though, whiney baby.”

luke’s eyebrows rose as he took in the secluded area near the dunes, finally meeting your gaze again. “aw, i can’t believe you just planned out our first date.”

“i seriously don’t know what any of my half-siblings see in you.”

“so you’ve discussed me then.”

“shut up, i dragged you all the way here, because even though i know you like attention, i don’t think you wanted the attention you were getting from punching that poor hephaestus kid in the jaw,” you say shockingly sincerely, startling both yourself and luke.

luke doesn’t say anything, letting what seems like a confession hang in the air, instead, sits down near the water, and rubs a hand across his jaw, watching you as you follow suit, sitting next to him.

after spending what seems like minutes in silence, watching the waves lap at the shore, luke finally speaks, staring out at the horizon, his tone slightly hollow, and devoid of all things you have come to label as luke castellan, looking eerily similar to the night he had returned from his infamous quest, “heroes aren’t meant to be happy.”

you drew your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head. “i know — achilles, orpheus, theseus…” you trail off.

“and hercules,” luke adds, almost melancholy.

“i think i’ve pretty much accepted i’ll die young,” you say, your words coming out in nothing but a whisper despite the two of you being alone.

luke nods in solidarity, lost in thought. “it shouldn’t have to be like this,” he finally says, voice hardening.

ii. talking sweet and looking fine / i get kinda hectic inside

“okay, for this technique, i’ll need a partner,” luke says, looking straight at you. “can you come up here?”

deciding to oblige him, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly, smiling as you joined him in front of the other campers, who had begun whispering when he called out to you. in the crowd, just past your half-siblings looks of shock, you can see the stolls passing around a wad of cash.

luke addresses the crowd once more, “i need everyone to be paying close attention here, we’ll be demonstrating how to parry, or counterblock for the newcomers.”

as both of you get into position, luke smiles, “don’t forget to go easy on me.”

you laughed, “don’t bet on it, castellan.”

your demonstration ends up feeling like eons, as the two of you continue to dance around each other, parrying and jabbing, and lunging, and striking, and parrying. both of you are panting, your faces flushed as you continue, and just when it seems like you have the upper hand, luke side steps, and easily parries your finishing blow, disarming you in the process.

you laugh as you yield, loving the exhilaration from the fight, but when the two of you face the campers once more, more than half of the crowd is slack-jawed.

luke, ever the showman, can’t resist a grin, “not only was that your lesson to not underestimate aphrodite cabin, but also to show you the level we’re trying to get you guys to. now, partner up and spread out.”

before you can turn back to address luke again, drew is suddenly at your side.

“what the fuck was that?” drew hisses, grasping your elbow and leading you away from the training session in full swing, pulling you into your cabin, where silena sits on your bed (still in her armor), clearly awaiting this impromptu confrontation.

“what was what?” you choose to feign innocence, examining your nails before glancing up to see the twin expressions of horror on both silena and drew’s faces.

“do not act dumb,” drew eyes you coolly, “it’s so beneath you.”

“i’m not acting dumb,” you rolled your eyes at the both of them.

“yes you —”

“you and castellan,” silena interjects, “we want details, now.”

“what details even are there to give?”

silena grabs drew’s arm, pulling her back from apparently nearly pouncing on you.

drew rolls her eyes at the hand on her arm, and then focuses on you, “you’re literally our next head counselor and you and castellan had never so much looked at each other until this week and now he’s asking you to help demonstrate training techniques, like hello?”

silena snapped her fingers in agreement, “c’mon, you can’t deny that something didn’t happen.”

“nothing did,” you crossed your arms across your chest.

“you know what,” drew says, “if you wanna be like this fine. come find me when you finally decide to — i don’t know — talk to your sisters?” she storms out of the cabin, leaving you alone with silena, who sighs, gives you an apologetic look and goes after drew.

“well, that was a shit show.”

you whirl around to see your head counselor standing at the entry of the cabin, poised as ever, not a hair out of place as she stood, examining her manicure, looking bored, as usual.

“couldn’t agree more,” you sigh, sitting on your bed, head in your hands.

your head counselor takes a seat beside you, “look, i don’t care for whatever petty drama just unfolded, you’ll get over it, daughters of aphrodite and all,” she waves a hand in the air, “— but for now, we have more pressing issues. i’m gonna leave for college soon, and the entire cabin knows you’re my successor.”

you nod as she paused, meeting your gaze, and you can’t help but examine the perfect shape of her eyeliner, scanning her entire picture-perfect face in an attempt to discern her mood.

“i don’t care whatever it is you have going on with castellan, but you need to complete the rite of passage, before you become head counselor.”

“the rite of passage?” you asked, having only heard the phrase in hushed conversations around camp, the knot in your stomach tightening as she continued.

“no child of aphrodite is a true child of aphrodite without having broken their first love’s heart,” is all she offers as an explanation, completely straight-faced. “castellan is perfect for your rite of passage.”

your eyebrows furrow as you consider her words, and with a final nod, and gentle squeeze of your arm, she leaves you with both her legacy and your mother’s legacy in your hands.

“oh, and before i forget, whoever doesn’t do it always ends up cursed.”

iii. now let me pray to keep you from / the perils that will surely come

luke’s shoulder brushing against yours has turned out to be extremely distracting, and now you can understand why your cabin is more notorious for breaking hearts, rather than falling in love. you can’t seem to focus on anything except how close his hand is to yours, even the golden hue of the fire or the sing-alongs can’t divert your attention.

the distance between the two of you grows imperceptibly smaller when luke suddenly clears his throat, on the verge of saying something, when a twig snaps behind the two of you, causing you to jump apart and look at the intruder.

annabeth is standing behind the two of you, looking faintly apologetic, but also terrified. “sorry if i interrupted you guys,” she offers, rubbing her arm.

you share a glance with luke, nodding at him. “you weren’t — luke can always talk to me later,” you say, offering her your trademark smile.

annabeth nodded, “thank you,” as luke gently squeezed your hand before getting up to comfort her.

“don’t thank me, sweetheart.”

you’re at your usual spot when luke rejoins you, running a hand through his curls. “sorry,” he says, “someone left a spider in athena cabin, and no one could kill it.”

you chuckled, “if it wasn’t a total accident, i’d bet money it was travis and connor.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up at the mention of his siblings, “i think you’re spending too much time around them to pick up on their habits.”

“or maybe, i’m spending too much time around you,” you offer, smirking at him, trying to ignore the funny feeling in your chest as he smiles genuinely at you.

“i like to say i’m an acquired taste,” luke shrugs, sneaking a glance at you as you laugh at him.

“i think i’ve acquired that taste,” you say, without thinking, before realizing how phenomenally stupid that sounded.

luke smiled widely, “y’know, if you weren’t a daughter of aphrodite, i would’ve told you how corny that was —” you shoved him here, “— ow, let me finish, but i actually am really glad to hear that.”

“no wonder,” you smirked, “i can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest.”

“okay, look who’s confident all of a sudden.”

you shut him up with a soft kiss that has him seeing stars.

iv. i know what’s weighing on your mind / you can be sure i know my part

“again, what the hell is going on with you and castellan?” silena asks one early morning before breakfast, birds chirping as she’s lining her eyes with kajal, glancing at the mirror in her hand as she sits at the top of her bed.

“nothing.”

“i literally saw you guys making out and had to scrub my eyes out with soap,” drew adds, looking extremely disgusted at the thought of relieving that experience, as she paints a fresh coat of nail polish.

“fine, you’re right,” you concede, curling your eyelashes.

“don’t you have to do the rite of passage, though?” drew asks, pausing to look up at you.

“i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you say slowly, setting the eyelash curler down on the vanity.

“excuse me?” your head counselor has her hands on her hips, the annoyed expression on her face marring her perfect features, towering over you as she stands in front of your bed.

“i said, i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you enunciate, looking up at her, maintaining eye contact.

the temperature of the cabin seemed to drop ten degrees, and for a minute or so, your stare remained unbroken until she shrugged. “your decision... but don’t say i didn’t warn you,” before dramatically whirling around and heading to the pavilion.

silena gave you a look as drew arched her brow, and you simply shrugged in response.

2K notes · View notes

ma1dita · 4 months

Text

trouble always finds me

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.7k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where he could tell you were trouble from the day he met you. Luke’s perspective on trouble & how they first met! think trouble’s origin story (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

warnings: none, fluff? Mr. D being a clueless dad lol also guys they’re 14 here

a/n: welcome back to the trouble!verse hehe i was inspired by Mr. D being a bit of a jerk to Percy so that the kid doesn’t off himself. Similar concept but with Luke after he first gets to camp— another version for why trouble!reader calls him angelface coming soon

(posted 1/19/24, erm unedited and not beta’d so forgive me in advance)

—

You were always trouble, Luke knew that from the day he met you.

Walking into Camp Half-Blood, worn out and weary after days of trying to not become harpy food, his arm was slung protectively over Annabeth’s shoulder as they were led onto the campgrounds. So many pity-filled eyes were focused on them after hearing what happened to Thalia, but the camp seemed promising, filled with other demigods who can resonate with what they’ve experienced. Luke thought it was too good to be true, but anything’s better in comparison to the streets they came from. You, however, looked at them in interest from afar, a playful expression on a pretty face watching their every move like him and Annie were shiny new toys to play with.

He was so sure something was off with you.

Had to be, from the deranged glimmer in your eye that would appear when something bad would happen at Camp. He’d seen it in action a couple of times before you set your sights on him— setting off fireworks during capture the flag, replacing salt with sugar in the kitchens, cutting Mr. D’s hair in his sleep; all of this causing campers and staff alike to run amok and figure out who to penalize. Each time he’d find you enjoying how it all played out, excitement brimming on the cusp of revealing yourself as the culprit as he watched you bite your tongue. But as a mischievous kid himself, he wondered why you hid it. You preferred to orchestrate the show, to make a spectacle for your personal entertainment, and with a smile too soft to be considered guilty, you were a convincing actress.

The other campers in 11 told him you’d been unclaimed for half a year now, keeping to yourself and making a safe haven within the busy cabin. You were a klutz to say the least, bringing chaos to Camp Half-Blood with a cool disposition, and you hardly seemed interested the one time Luke tried to say hi as he took the bunk next to yours.

So why the hell wouldn’t you lay off of him?

At first it was small, shoulder bumps and raised eyebrows whenever he piped up in a conversation. That, he could deal with. Luke’s a tough guy, having gone through more than a typical 14-year old would.

But then it just got annoying.

Glitter in his shampoo, his laundry load dyed purple, and shoelaces knotted together to make him stumble— things meant to be more of an inconvenience rather than an actual problem. Luke wasn’t sure what to make of it, or what to tell you. No one wants to be the new kid creating trouble, but you didn’t seem to have a problem with that.

Maybe you were a Hermes kid like him, but of that, Luke wasn’t so easily convinced—months of living in 11 would mean you’d learn all of the tricks of the trade, so it couldn’t automatically mean that you were related (a part of him also hoped you weren’t be half-siblings, or else the fact he couldn’t stop thinking of you would be slightly awkward). Perhaps a child of Apollo? When you weren’t being difficult, he’s seen you sprinkled in sunlight, usually humming a tune under your breath. Yesterday it was a song from the Sound of Music, and though he only remembers bits of a memory from a movie night with his mom years ago, he put his combat gear on slower just to hear you finish the song.

Whatever you were, it was bound to be troublesome.

—

At this point in life, Luke hasn’t had many comforts while on the run. To him there’s no such thing as action without reason, without meaning. Five years of running and not looking back makes this son of Hermes realize that he hasn’t had a chance to take a breath until he got here. It’s hard to let down your guard when you’re always supposed to be keeping watch.

He wriggles under his covers trying to relax himself before bed, purple socks sticking out of the scrappy hand-me-down blanket, and he hears a small giggle from the bed next to his. Luke shifts his weight onto his side, eyes darting to your direction in the quiet of the dark cabin.

“Nice socks.”

He blinks. Were you talking to him? His toes wiggle playfully, prompting more of your melodious laughter as he chews at his lip before he responds.

“Guess I’m getting used to them.”

“You’re getting used to a lot of things around here. That’s good,” you whisper, and thinks he can see you concocting something sinister in that brain of yours—he’s on the edge of the mattress hanging onto your every word as he realizes this is the most you’ve spoken to him.

“You did this. Why?” he says, more of a statement than a question. Why would you go out of your way for someone like him?

“Are you mad about it? Luke, right?” you mutter, a calm expression on your face shrouded in moonlight, and for a second he wonders if you actually don’t know his name until he notices the upwards quirk of your lip.

Luke catches himself then, and the realization hits him like a blow to the chest— he’s not angry at all. If anything, he hasn’t had the time to feel anything negative with the antics you’ve been pulling. You’ve proven to be quite the distraction to his circumstances, and he can’t remember the last time he’s thought about Thalia or his mom since he got here. The melancholy falls on his countenance like a better-fitting blanket than the one he has on, and your words pull him from his thoughts before they can suffocate him again.

“Sorry about your sister. I lost someone right before I got here too. My mom.”

This, he can tell, is not acting. Your eyes flicker to a polaroid strapped in the space underneath the top bunk above your head, two blurry figures huddled together in a memory.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what to say. In the silence that follows, he swallows audibly. Everyone’s been worried about Annabeth, including himself that he hadn’t even thought of his own emotions being on display for everyone to see. Luke never thought you of all people would notice.

You shrug, “S’not your fault. I know when people are acting though. If you know I’m the one who’s been starting shit, why haven’t you told anyone?”

Luke almost laughs at that, a rough exhale leaving his lungs as he watches your hands clutch your quilt.

“It’s pretty entertaining, I guess. You’re annoying, but I don’t mind it. Kept my mind off of things.”

He watches you smile in the shadows now, and it shines—all lips, teeth, and sheer mirth that makes his chest feel a little lighter. A real smile from you, one that doesn’t hide your true intentions.

“I’m glad. Mine too.”

The next thing you do confuses him further, but from what he’s gathered you’re always full of surprises. You chuck your quilt across the space between your bunks, and the end of it smacks him in the face as he grunts.

“Here. Keep it,” you chuckle a bit loudly, the both of you hearing a Shhhhh… from somewhere in the dark cabin.

“What… Why? Are we friends now?” Luke mumbles jokingly, inhaling the soft scent of berries and fresh linen. His purple laundry load smelled like this too.

“No.”

“Then why are you giving me your stuff?” he says, but still curls up underneath the handmade quilt stitched from memories of a past life, of motherly love and gentle hands. He doesn’t have anything like this, so he settles into this feeling of comfort instead, even if it wasn’t his memory to hold. You go quiet at the sight of him, eyes fluttering and chin tucked into the pink and purple fabric, and he looks as soft as a normal 14 year old boy should.

“It’s getting boring in here. Gonna have to change it up soon, I think,” you mumble, turning away and shutting your eyes before he can say anything else.

—

The next day, you get caught putting a month’s supply of bubble bath into the lake, but Luke’s convinced you did it on purpose. All of camp is standing on the shore, watching you wave at them from a river tube as Chiron and Mr. D yell at you in exasperation—finally revealing yourself as the troublemaker they’ve been searching for.

“Get on the beach this instant, young lady! You have no idea how much trouble you’ve put us through!” Mr. D’s voice echoes across the lake, his immortal form almost filtering through his frustration before you laugh in his face, unthreatened by the Olympian.

“Good thing I get it from you. Hello, dad!”

Jaws drop as everyone turns to look at Mr. D, the realization hitting his face as he points at you, his brain moving a mile a minute. Though you resemble your mother, your actions are all him. You revel in the grand reaction, looking up to see a purple thyrsus surrounded by grape leaves float over your head.

“Nice outfit, kid. I don’t think purple is your color. She do that to you too?” Mr. D notes Luke’s wine colored cargos and socks clashing against the harsh orange of his shirt as he pushes past him, scratching his head at the idea of another kid. Poor guy said two was the limit in a lifetime and he gets a grinning teenage girl who dares him to do something about it. He hasn’t raised a lot of girls….

“I don’t know. I guess trouble always seems to find me,” Luke laughs lightly, watching kids of all ages jump into the bubbly lake water happily. The glowing ember of his eyes are relaxed for the first time in a while— an inviting flame catching your own as you stare at him from across the sudsy water. Trouble, he thinks, a smile settling onto his face—how fitting.

He’s spent a lot of time running. But perhaps this time, he’s finding reasons to want to stay.

—

"After all, we are nothing more or less than what we choose to reveal." - Sylvia Plath

Ask to be added to the general/luke taglist!

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 reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo imagine #luke castellan x reader fanfic #percy jackon and the olympians #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

929 notes · View notes

thecharacterchronicler · 7 days

Text

District Girl (3) || (Peacekeeper) Coriolanus Snow x Reader

Outline: Coriolanus meets you again and, as a bad thunderstorm approaches, you invite him to take shelter in your cabin…

Word count: 3’686

Warnings: obsessive and possessive behavior, power imbalance, virgin female (implied) and rough explicit sex.

Author’s note: I tried to fulfill a request I received while sticking to the original idea I had for this part 3, so I hope whoever (anon) asked for it will be okay with this one being a bit rough. I promise I’ll try to write a much sweeter, more romantic, one shot of the reader losing her virginity to Coriolanus for you soon. Thanks for inspiring me with your request! 🖤 (Though I’m not sure I’ll know how to write sweet and romantic Coryo…)

((Part 1 )) - ((Part 2 ))

It had been cloudy since morning, causing the humidity in the air to rise above what Coriolanus usually deemed acceptable. It was still warm, even without a trace of sunshine, hidden behind menacing black clouds. Far in the distance, he could hear the distinctive roar of a thunderstorm approaching from the mountains, electricity almost palpable in the air.

Coriolanus didn’t enjoy sunny days either, mostly because he couldn’t get used to the uncomfortable climate of District 12, but standing between broken shacks, on a dirt road that would probably flood and turn into mud as soon as rain would start falling was a whole new kind of hell to him.

Hopefully, the party he was supposed to keep in check would end soon. It had barely started, with the two newlyweds couples returning from the justice building, gathering with their guests in a narrow space of grass between two cabins. Music was playing, but he didn’t like how wrong it sounded in his ears. People were joyfully chatting, trying to ignore the presence of peacekeepers nearby, watching them in search of an excuse to break out this gathering before it could turn sour because it somehow always turned sour in district 12… But maybe it would be the approaching storm that would put an end to the festivities first, allowing Coriolanus to go back to the barracks and have the rest of the afternoon to rest.

Standing tall, stoic, with a hand on his weapon, he watched the party unfold as some kids ran off to gather branches and burnt grass. He didn’t know the traditions for a wedding in this district but it sure seemed kind of pathetic to him. If it was his wedding, he would have made sure that it was a special day, he would have worn his best outfit and he would have made sure that his guests did too… Unlike most of the ones present today, still in their mining clothes and covered in dust. He also would have made sure that he had a proper venue where to celebrate his wedding, not a small patch of burnt grass near a row of sad cabins. And surely, he would have made sure that no storm was threatening to ruin it all.

“Hurry up or we won’t have enough time to get the fire going for the toasting.” You instructed a group of kids, as they placed a few fragile branches in your hands before running off again. You looked worried, your eyes on the black clouds in the horizon.

Coriolanus’ entire body reacted to your voice, briefly breaking his steady posture. He gazed at you, an irrepressible smirk appearing on his lips at the sight. You looked lovely. Even better than usual. Of course, you - out of all the other people - had had enough respect for the newlyweds to show up to their party wearing a nice and clean dress. The color brought out your eyes, making it all he could see for a moment. Until he lowered his gaze to your silhouette, noticing how it hugged and highlighted your lines and curves in the best way possible. It was as if the dress had been tailored for your body. Flawless.

Even if he wasn’t invited to the party and was instructed to keep his distances unless anything important occurred, he was happy to see you. He could watch you from where he kept guard, admire your beauty and make sure he memorized the contours of your body in that dress to entertain him later, when he’ll be alone in the showers. It wasn’t so bad after all.

The kids brought back another batch of branches to you and you placed them in a pile on the ground, taking a step back as a couple leaned down to light them on fire. All the guests applauded when red flames appeared, you included, as if lighting a fire was some kind of victory… Maybe it was after all, in such a humid climate.

A second couple did the same thing, starting a smaller fire next to the one slowly gaining strength and it pleased the guests just as much. Coriolanus held his breath when he saw you step up again, expecting you to follow suit on the odd tradition with a man that wouldn’t be him. You were dressed so nicely, your hair so beautifully arranged, that it finally occurred to him that it could be your wedding too.

No, he wouldn’t allow it. You were his. You had tasted him and he had tasted you, you knew each other intimately, you couldn’t belong to another man. Not anymore. Not when you could have him.

Instead of lighting a third fire, you handed both brides a loaf of bread and they proceeded to impale it on a branch, the grooms held it above the dancing flame and everyone watched as the bread slowly cooked. In the Capitol, cakes and desserts were served at weddings not… Toasts ?

He shook off his grimace of disgust. He wasn’t sure if it was because he kept being surprised by everyone’s lack of dignity in this district or if he was still slightly unsettled by the idea of you, marrying someone else.

A louder bang resounded through the street, bringing everyone’s attention to the mountains from which menacing clouds were quickly approaching. It was brief, everyone preffering to focus their attention back on the darkening bread held above the fire rather than on the weather, except for you. Coriolanus locked eyes with you, his heart strangely racing in his chest. He wanted you to notice him, but the possibility you might ignore him again, like you had a few days ago at the Hob, made him uneasy. He had showed you how good he could be to you. How lucky you should feel that you had somehow managed to catch his interest. But maybe you would provoke him again, just so that he could show you who you belong to once more.

A few very explicit images bloomed in his mind, he could be pretty creative when thinking about all the ways he could mark you as his. And as usual, it made him hard and desperate for attention.

But it seemed you weren’t going to need a reminder of his claim on you after all. You had stepped away from the party and were now walking in his direction, your pretty dress caressing the dirt road in the wake of your steps. He couldn’t help but smile at the way you grinned at him, as if you were happy to see him too.

“Are you keeping an eye on me, Coriolanus Snow ?” You asked him, playfully, stopping in front of him just slightly closer than what he would have expected.

His whole body buzzed at the sound of his name coming out of your lips. He had never told you so it must mean you had asked around about him. Maybe you had been obsessing over him as much as he obsessed over you, trying to find out who he was and how you could keep being the object of his desires.

“Always since I know how good you are at sneaking around.” He replied, with a grin. He didn’t know your name, but he would eventually. He simply couldn’t ask anyone about you, not when it might bring negative attention on him from his superiors. And what about his colleagues ? They might think that you’re an easy girl, or at least one who isn’t bothered by the peacekeepers’ uniforms and try to flirt with you - very much like Junius had - if they knew. It was better if he kept it that way for now, you’d be his little secret. “You look lovely in that dress.”

“Thank you.” You replied, seemingly a bit surprised by such a compliment. “My friends got married today.”

He nodded. That much he had gathered, even though wedding celebrations definitely looked nothing like the ones he had seen in The Capitol. He glanced to the sad party, where one couple was now eating their toasted piece of bread while others looked at them with emotion in their eyes. You followed his gaze back to where you came from.

“I’m sorry, I can’t invite you it wouldn’t be…” You started, but stopped yourself as he shook his head.

“It wouldn’t be appropriate, of course.” He finished for you, with a smile meant to reassure you that he had absolutely no desire to be invited to such events anyway.

A moment of silence went by, a bit awkwardly. He couldn’t force you on your knees and get you to suck him off right there, in front of everyone, even though there wasn’t anything he wanted more at this very moment and you couldn’t bring a peacekeeper back to the party with you, so you were both frozen with indecision, unsure of what else to do when you couldn’t put your hands - and mouths - on each other.

Despite daylight, an orange lightning illuminated the sky, fracturing the black clouds over your heads. A few seconds later, a loud bang resonated against the wooden walls of the nearby cabins, making the road under your feet tremble. Rain instantly poured down from the clouds, cold drops of water mixed with icy hail, piercing through the leaves of the trees and bouncing off of the roofs and ground.

Coriolanus left out a curse as the wedding party he was meant to keep in check dissolved, people hurrying in different directions to take shelter from the hail. If anything happened now, it would be his fault because he wouldn’t be able to tell if everyone went back to their cabins or if anything illegal took place afterwards…

You pulled him out of his thoughts by taking his hand in yours and guiding him to the nearest shack on the road, just as another lightning hit the ground, a lot closer than where the previous one did. You opened the door and pushed the peacekeeper in, closing it just as the roaring thunder reverberated through the street.

Coriolanus took in the modest house he was standing in, the few pieces of furniture and the broken window above the kitchen sink. It was about the size of his dormitory, but contained everything a house should, there even was a bed in the far corner of the room.

“You can stay here until the storm passes… If you want.” You suggested, the confidence you had been able to display during your previous encounters with him suddenly gone. Maybe because you felt awfully more vulnerable having him standing in your home rather than in a more public place. “Your clothes are wet, maybe I could hang them to dry ?”

A smirk appeared on his lips at your words and you smiled back at him, slightly blushing. He fixed his pale blue eyes on you as he slowly began unbuttoning his vest, you followed the movement of his fingers with eager eyes. He remembered how it felt when it wasn’t his buttons he was so deftly working on but you, pumping his finger deep inside the warmth his cock was so desperate to be buried in too.

He removed his vest, carefully placed his gun on the kitchen table and took off his shirt, revealing his chiseled chest and broad shoulders. He saw the way your eyes widened at the sight and liked how you couldn’t help but stare at his muscles, gaze lowering at the same speed your cheeks were gaining colors.

He opened his pants, lowered his underwear and left his erection proudly stand up from the fabric. He was hard for you, so hard it was almost unbearable, and you had barely done anything yet, apart from wearing a dress that hugged your silhouette and smile at him. It was kind of pathetic, how he probably could have come undone simply from closing his eyes and imagining his cum shooting out of his spent cock inside of you… Either buried deep in your wet pussy, either lodged down your throat while you gagged on his length, or even painting your face and chest with his cum again, the lovely sight it had been the first time still burned in his memory.

There were so many ways he wanted you. If he could have it his way, he’d probably lock you up in his dorm so that he could come back to you and fuck you mercilessly every time he felt the need to. Having you at his disposal would be such a relief for his cock - and hand. Maybe he’d finally manage to get you out of his mind if he could indulge in every fantasy he had about you, act out every scenario, test out everything he thought of, until he no longer had anything to think about to bring his cock to life at the most inconvenient times.

Although you seemed a bit more reserved this time, you still had the courage to reach behind your back to unzip your pretty dress, the fabric instantly falling and pooling around your feet.

Coriolanus’ blood changed course and flew to his already stretched cock, making it even harder and twitching with impatience. What a perfect sight you were, standing in front of him in nothing but your underwear. It wasn’t a fancy set of lingerie like the girls from The Capitol usually wore but maybe it was because you weren’t a girl from The Capitol that he was so obsessed with you. You were a district girl, and he had never seen a body more beautiful than yours, even in plain underwear that didn’t even match. It was as if he had designed you himself, the shape of you perfectly tailored to his preferences, with curves and dips that drove him crazy and plump, soft, skin that haunted his sleepless nights. It left him unable to decide between his desires to ravage you or worship you.

He stepped forward and carefully pulled the straps of your bra down your shoulders. He unclasped the hooks in your back, a bit less assured than he wanted you to believe he was and, once he was able to pull your bra off, he took a step back to admire your bare chest. Perfect.

He pressed a hand to your tender flesh, excitement buzzing in his veins when he felt the soft malleability of your breast. His hands weren’t calloused like the ones of the miners you probably knew, they were soft and delicate, a clear sign of his luckier upbringing.

He leaned down to place a kiss against your neck, just so he could press his body against yours, feel your heat, the warmth of your skin radiating against his. It was the most intimate he had ever been, with you and with anyone else. He couldn’t say he disliked how it felt, but it was also terrifying. He couldn’t let himself be too vulnerable with you, not when it risked leading to feelings he really didn’t want to have for a district girl like you. He already barely could manage how badly he wanted you, how much he thought about you, day and night… What if he fell in love now ? Surely, it would ruin his life.

No, there wouldn’t be any feelings, not on his side and not on yours either. It was just sex. Really good sex. But just that.

He didn’t have to be soft with you so that you’d like him, he could just take what he needed and give you what you wanted too and call it quits. Yeah, it was a good plan. Flawless even.

He pulled your panties down with a rough motion, taking you by surprise. You barely had time to kick the crumpled fabric off of your feet when he reached for the back of your knees, lifting you up into his arms with your legs closing around his hips for support.

He took a few steps until your back was pressed against the wall. Your face was so close to his, your wet lips making it so hard for him to resist kissing them with all the depth of his passion for you.

No feelings. He reminded himself.

He pushed his hips forward, his hard cock easily gliding through your arousal. You were so ready for him. Just like you had been the other day. And this time he wasn’t going to deny himself the pleasure of being inside you. He pressed himself all the way up to your entrance, finding an unexpected resistance on the way. He heard your breath catch in your throat as he attempted to pass it, noticing the grimace on your face but since you didn’t ask him to stop, he kept trying to dive into the surprising tightness of your pussy.

He felt your hands clasping his shoulders for stability, your body writhing with discomfort at the invasion. He knew he was fairly big - bigger than the fingers he had put inside you at least - but he didn’t expect you to be so incredibly tight around him. The pressure of your walls clenching on him almost making him dizzy with the intensity of the pleasure it built in his abdomen.

Then, without a warning, you suddenly relaxed and your pussy seemed to swallow him whole, finally allowing him to fully bury himself inside of your wetness. He cursed at the sensation and you quietly cried out when he hit the deepest point possible.

You still felt tight, but you were finally giving him permission to move. He gently rocked himself, getting his cock to slide back and forth as a way to loosen you up. He was molding you to fit him. Him, and no one else.

No feelings.

He closed his eyes. He could come just from this but he wasn’t going to be selfish. Not when he wanted you to keep wanting him as much as he did. So he focused, keeping his movements slow and wide despite how fast and rough his brain urged him to go.

Suddenly, you came, digging your nails in his shoulders and whimpering against his neck, your pussy contracting around his cock, forcing him to stop his movements inside you again and stand completely still while you moaned in bliss. He was good at this, it was his second time making you reach your climax and it gave him an unreasonable amount of pride each time he achieved this. This time especially, had merely felt like work at all, you simply couldn’t take that many slow thrusts inside you. And now your cunt was contracting around him, trying to milk cum out of him like the only thing missing from your orgasm was a load of his release inside you. But he wasn’t going to give it to you, not yet. No matter how limp your body suddenly felt in his arms and how you cried out as soon as he resumed his thrusts, he was going to fuck you until he was satisfied this time.

He adjusted his grip on your body and carried you to the bed, lying you down and immediately placing himself on top of you, putting his dick back exactly where it belonged, buried deep inside you. His hands behind both of your knees, he held your legs against his hips as he pushed himself back and forth in you, on his knees while you were lying down with your head resting on your pillow. He could feel the pleasure bubbling inside him, demanding more to finally explode and allow him some relief. He was so desperate to finish, he needed to fill you up with his seed, make sure you would be his from now on. Hell, he wanted to spill everything he could inside you until he was bone dry and then, feed you every drop that might escape from your folds so that none of his release would go to waste.

He leaned forward, the weight of his body shifting and pressing yours deeper into the mattress. The bed was creaking loudly with each of his violent thrusts, menacing to break, while your cries of agonizing pleasure escaped through the broken window, mixing with the splatter of the heavy rain outside and the low rumble of thunder.

It wasnt so much the way he drove himself in and out of you, fast and without mercy, that pushed him off of the edge but the sight of you, gasping for air like you couldn’t take him anymore, crying out his name with half of your face buried in your pillow, your pretty lips forming a perfect oval as he finally groaned and released himself inside you, making you climax once more, in unison with him this time.

He filled you up, waiting until his cock was done twitching, the very last drops of cum dripping from his tip before he took it out. He needed to catch his breath now but the way you were still shaking with pleasure in front of him, beautiful as ever and claimed by him made his heart race.

Rain and hail crashed noisily on the roof of the cabin, covering the sound of your panting breaths, lightning illuminating the darkness that had filled the room every once in a while. He knew that his friends were probably waiting for him back at the barracks, that his superiors might start wondering where he was since he wasn’t on permission yet, but he couldn’t get himself to leave. Not yet. He had been dreaming, imagining, fantasizing about this moment for too long to cut it short. The way you had felt, how your body looked without any clothes on, your face when he poured his release inside you, everything had exceeded his expectations. You were truly perfect for him. And he no longer could resist kissing your lips, making sure you’d understand how obsessed he was with you.

No feelings.

212 notes · View notes

going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 1 month

Text

141 Headcanons: On Holiday

John Price is 100% a dad type. He likes golfing and fishing and sailing. Activities that let him unwind, sometimes make new friends in the shape of other middle-aged men at the country club or at the docks or at the lake. Rents a little cabin by the lake, where you can take a soak or sunbathe, while he goes out with his little fishing boat and try (and fail) to catch something nice for dinner.

Johnny MacTavish is an adventurous type. He likes hiking and camping, stuff that lets him stay busy, and will definitely explore some forest or national park or mountain range. But he also likes fun activities. Music festivals, for example. He'll definitely book you all-inclusive 3-day-long tickets even though there's only one or two artists/bands you want to see, just so you can have that experience and have fun together.

Kyle Garrick is a family lad. His family is big and loving and they book a little trip every year somewhere fun. It might be a new destination, or it might be somewhere they've been before, or maybe somewhere to visit family. But he loves bringing his love along, go do all the touristy things, see all the landmarks, take loads of pictures, try new restaurants and new food, and do cultural things like reading all the plaques on statues and fountains and monuments.

Simon Riley likes peace and quiet. That's the jist of it. Needs it, in fact. So, prepare to rent a little historical cottage in the Cotswold, or maybe a beach condo, or a cabin in the woods. Doesn't matter, what matters it's that it's fairly isolated, with no neighbors to really bother him. He can sleep in late, with no one to force him to do things he doesn't want to do, no schedule to uphold, no people to answer to. He'll roll out of bed at noon, make himself tea and go sit outside and feell the breeze on his skin for once.

Crack headcanons: Beach Day Episode™️

John Price tends to burn, instead of tan, surprisingly. Probably because his uniforms tend to cover him from neck to toes, leaving only his hands and face showing... And if you'd expect his face to be immune to burning, you'd be wrong. Especially because he's terrible at applying sunblock. By the time you notice, his cheeks, nose and forehead are red, and there are white lines around his muttonchops/beard where the sunblock didn't absorb... so he just looks ridiculous.

Johnny MacTavish likes to say he's not English/British... until he goes on holiday to southern Europe and he's suddenly the perfect example of the stereotypical English tourist. Football jersey, denim shorts, socks and slides/sandals, his entire skin is burned to a crisp and red, and, of course, he's wearing the most stupid-looking sunglasses you'll ever see... And then he gets to the beach, takes off his shorts and he's wearing a red speedo.

Kyle Garrick is 100% the type to disappear off his towel while you're sunbathing and, by the time you notice, he's in a completely different side of the beach playing beach paddle ball, beach volleyball or beach football with a group of other blokes or even with little kids. And he does all this while wearing his little cap (but backwards) and while absolutely covered in tanning oil. Does he need it? No. But he likes the feel of it.

Simon Riley would not be caught dead in swimming trunks or a speedo. The man needs full coverage. He's in a wet/surf suit and wearing a facekini WITH his stupid dad sunglasses and, maybe even, a visor. He gets fidgety if he has to sit in his towel for too long so he's also the type who'll go for a walk out of nowhere, down the beach, and, eventually, cross paths with an Asian grandma who's wearing the same exact outfit as him.

#ikea writes 💚#masterlist #headcanon #simon ghost riley #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #cod headcanons #141 headcanons #holiday headcanons #crack headcanons #soap headcanons #ghost headcanons #price headcanons #gaz headcanons

200 notes · View notes

ecstacy-appleofmyeye · 4 months

Text

cabin 15//hypnos children headcanons!!

a/n: the hcs will be edited and updated as i come up with more of them

most demigod kids get claimed after an important event—like percy when he won the capture-the-flag game—others get claimed in fancy ways, usually the symbol of their godly parent appearing above their heads—like leo and piper when they first came to camp.

not hypnos kids, no.

they get claimed in their dreams, or at night—when most campers are already asleep so there's no one to witness it.

like some—in rare occurrences—Hephaestus kids are fire resistant, or how some Aphrodite kids have charmspeak, there were times where a children of hypnos with wings came to camp*(will talk in detail later). others were equally amazing, and a bit intimidating. they could put people in comas or wake them from one.

a lot of hypnos kids suffer from insomnia, narcolepsy and some have had/have sleep paralysis demons. tho it's very uncommon for them to get nightmares, since they have dream manipulation.

when a camper has so many nightmares that they can't even sleep properly, their first option is always the hypnos cabin.

in ‘the lost hero’ it says that the cabin smells like fresh laundry and soft violin music always plays in the background so they atmosphere of the cabin is always relaxing and it manages to lull you to sleep if you aren't careful

also the beds are always comfy for everyone sleeping, the sheets are hot/cold depending on the weather and the kid’s preferences, but they're always soft like you're hugging clouds.

there are many flower pots with poppies insides and they always smell fresh no matter how long they've probably been there.

i bet lots of them know how to do those calming massages that relieve tense muscles

the hypnos kids are fun to be around when they aren't sleeping or sleepwalking (i hc that clovis sleepwalks and one time he had a face full of mud after he tripped on a root at the strawberry fields)

ahem, anyway

most prefer to hang out in their dreams. you basically get to do everything you can do in real life without worrying about injuries or money.

i think most of them would have blond/light brown hair with gray or blue (maybe green?) eyes. they're pretty average in height. most aren't that athletic and are more artistic (they're besties with the apollo kids they told me themselves actually)

they have an unspoken solidarity with the hades/nyx/hecate/thanatos kids. being kids of the underworld gods was bound to get you some nasty and fearful stares from others, so they always made sure to have each other's backs.

thanatos kids are literally their cousins (from their godly parents’ side) so they feel particularly close to them. they think of them as honorary members of the cabin and they're always welcome and vice versa.

like i was saying, they prefer to hang out with their friends in their dreams, but they also like to take walks along the lake or be with the apollo kids at the arts and crafts

it's also not uncommon to find at least one hypnos kid at the peagasus stables

they're very sweet and loyal to their friends. they're also very willing to help, when they aren't napping inside a canoe

being a child of a minor god doesn't attract a lot of monsters and being a child of an underworld god, most monsters from the underworld know best than to underestimate kids of hypnos.

they don't need to fight a lot, but they're pretty good at it. a lot of them are fast learns and they also have time to practice in their dreams if they want too.

hypnos kids either have freckles or moles

source: me

trust me on this one

they like chocolate on everything. not even a specific type of chocolate, white chocolate, milk, dark chocolate, lactose free chocolate, chocolate milk etc.

they're great friends with nyx and thanatos kids. and some apollo kids too. they also get along with nico and hazel

*now i mentioned that some hypnos kids have wings like their father does.

i think they'd be a very soft/faint colour with a gradient. like a baby(or pastel) blue that fades into light gray. others have had darker coloured wings; dark purple that slowly fades into lilac, or dark blue that fades to the colour of the morning sky.

winged kids of hypnos always had a strange fascination with birds (many thought that they were aphrodite kids 'cause they liked doves and other birds)

they also had a strange obsession with gathering bird feathers and they always got scolded to not pick them put with their bare hands cuz it's unsanitary

some of these kids liked feather pens too for the same reason.

their least favourite food was chicken because they pitied the poor bird :(

edit(09/02/2024): every hypnos kid has this calming aura around them that makes others to zone out and sometimes fall asleep. they don't do it on purpose, it's a weird thing they naturally do.

underworld kids are usually closer to their parents, since they don't have as many responsibilities as the 12 olympian gods(tho they still do important jobs)

it isn't uncommon for a hypnos kid to be visited by their dad in their dreams.

sometimes that happens when they haven't arrived at camp yet. it's a way for Hypnos to watch over his kids and see how they are. many hypnos kids have had dreams were an odd figure with wings follows them around.

it's unsettling but since dreams are also their domain they felt calm (for the most part).

since hypnos is nyx's son, children of hypnos get small blessings from nyx. they're very close to her, and she loves all her grandchildren like her own kids.

some of the blessings include seeing in the dark (hence why most hypnos kids having light coloured eyes).

lots of hypnos kids listen to (mostly) calming music (ex classical, instrumental music).

there is a small cabin somewhere in the back that always has warm milk to help them sleep if they need to.

they get very clingy and grumpy when tired.

#the-tower's-archive #hypnos cabin #cabin 15 #headcanon #hypnos headcanons #percy jackson #child of hypnos

173 notes · View notes

bagerfluff · 4 months

Text

Your Music Is The Best Lullaby

Leo Valdez x Child of Apollo Reader

Prompt - Tired

Leo was working on something in Bunker 9 while you played music.

You liked hanging out in Bunker 9 with Leo because it was a little more peaceful. It was easier than trying to make music in your cabin or by the fire.

You liked playing music.

Maybe it was because you were a child of Apollo. Your father was the god of music. You like it so much that your mother was the one to get you your guitar. It was the only thing from home that you brought with you to Camp Half-Blood.

So you treasured it

Like gold.

Everybody seemed to like your music too. Everyone thought that you were the best musician of the Apollo kids. But it was hard to play music when everyone wanted to watch you do it. So you started to practice in Bunker 9. Leo didn’t mind.

Leo liked it too.

Leo thought your music was great, though he might be biased. Leo liked the noise. It created a nice atmosphere. Leo also liked hanging out with you. But Leo had to admit, the sound of your soft singing and playing of guitar made Leo sleepy

Leo rarely got sleep, always working on something.

So Leo survived on coffee and little sleep. But you made him tired. Leo’s eyes felt heavy and his arms felt like pudding. Leo slumped on the table and closed his eyes, falling asleep quickly. You noticed quickly.

Once the noise of tinkering stopped and didn't start again after a few seconds you looked over at Leo. You noticed that Leo was slumped over. You first thought that Leo was angry, frustrated at something he was working on.

So you got up and walked over to him. But you noticed that his eyes were closed and that he was snoring. You let out a little laugh at what you saw.

Leo looked cute.

You brushed some soot out of Leo’s hair and thought about what to do. Maybe you should take him back to his cabin. Sleeping in his bed might be more comfortable then here. But you didn’t think you could carry him that far.

Plus, you didn’t want anyone to think you were dating Leo. you didn’t think you could take anymore teasing. It seemed like everyone in Apollo Cabin knew about your crush on the Fireboy.

They all wanted you to make a move, saying that Leo likes you back. But you never did anything. You were sure Leo didn’t like you. Though he did flirt with you a lot.

You shook your head.

This wasn’t the time to think about this. But after thinking for a bit you looked down at Leo again. You realized that he should sleep but maybe not here. So you tried to wake up. But nothing happened when you shook him.

You tried a couple more times but nothing happened again. Dam Leo was a heavy sleeper. Your only choice was either to leave him here, or carry him to his bunk. You thought for a bit before deciding on the latter.

So you moved one of your arms under his legs and the other on his back and picked him up. Princesses style. Leo moved in your arms and buried his head in your chest.

You blushed at this and started to walk out of the bunker. You remembered the way back to camp, it wasn’t hard. You had walked this path before. But you realized that the sun was setting.

You realized that you and Leo had probably missed dinner. You cursed yourself as he felt hungry creep up. Once you got closer to camp you realized that everyone was eating. So you hadn’t missed dinner. But a thought popped into your head.

If everyone was busy eating you could get Leo back to his cabin without anyone noticing. Then nobody would tease you. So you turned. You started making your way to the Hephaestus Cabin. Once you got there it was really hard to open the door but you got it open.

You had never been inside the Hephaestus cabin but once you got in you were kinda glad that you didn’t live or sleep here. You noticed Leo’s bed easily. It was quite messy, more messy than the other beds.

Which was a hard feat to accomplish.

You went up to it and placed Leo down on the bed. You tried to leave after that but Leo had a death grip on your shirt.

You found it cute.

ou looked at Leo. He looked so peaceful and calm laying in bed. You knew you had to leave but you really didn’t want to. You felt more tired than hungry. So you sighed and got into bed with Leo.

Leo immediately rolled over to you and wrapped his arms around you. Burying his face in your chest again. You smiled at this. You placed a kiss on Leo’s forehead and closed your eyes. “Goodnight Fireboy” You whispered before falling asleep yourself.

Leaving a weird sight for the other Hephaestus kids when they came back from dinner.

#lgbtq #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x male reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians #heros of olympus #heros of olympus x reader #leo valdez x y/n #leo valdez x reader #leo valdez

181 notes · View notes

pjo1stan · 4 months

Text

Say Yes To Heaven

"I've got my eye on you"

Clarisse La Rue x f apollo reader

Warnings: none I don't think :)

You and Clarisse have always had a connection, everyone knows it. It's like how everyone also knows that Clarisse is completely and utterly inlove with you, well, except you. You're oblivious.

It's hard not to know. Clarisse rarely ever gets hurt, but when she does she always goes to your cabin. She refuses any help though unless it's from you. Sometimes, she even purposely got herself injured during practice sparring or a game of capture the flag so that she could see you afterwards. Besides, the way she looks at you makes it so obvious.

Anyways, you were sitting on your bunk in your cabin and reading.... music notes. You were supposed to be at the campfire singing songs with the other Apollo kids, but, you managed to escape it this time. Clarisse came into your cabin slowly, trying not to startle you. You look up from the paper and at her before speaking, "What happened this time, Clar?"

"Why do you assume something happened?" You roll your eyes at here dumb attempt to confuse you. After a few seconds of silence, she finally tells you. "I tripped and fell and cut my hand on barbed wire." She puts her hand up to show you a bleeding cut. You sigh and motioned for her to sit next to you, which she quickly did.

"Its hard to believe you just 'tripped' Clar."

"Well, maybe there was another reason I came here."

You glance at her confused before grabbing her hand that has the cut and hovering yours over the cut. When you did that, the cut stopped bleeding before it soon closed and turned into a white scar. Nothing that won't fade, of course. "Look at me, love." She says to you.

The second you hear her call you "love" you look at her. "Did you just call me....?" Your voice trails off and she nods. "Is that a problem?" She asks you. "No- no, it's not." Now you can see the way she looks at you. And that's when it hits you, she likes you. No, not just likes, she loves you. How did you not know? She's only ever like this with you.

Clarisse gently grabs your chin and gets a bit closer, her lips inches from yours. "I love you." Just hearing those three words make your heart flutter. Finally, she closes the distance between you and kisses you softly. You don't even know how to react after she pulls away.

She gets up and looks at you. "I'll see you in the morning, okay?" All you can do is nod in response and finally just watch her leave.

#clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #dior goodjohn #clarisse pjo #apollo #percy pjo #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo series

224 notes · View notes

2nd2ndalto · 10 months

Text

I have a headcanon that all the demigod kids routinely end up in each others beds/cabins at night, because nightmares and trauma and whatnot. So I wrote this smol fic.

~~~~~

There Is Rest and There's You

The first time Nico sees Annabeth leaving the Poseidon cabin at an ungodly early hour (having been dragged from his warm bed by Leo and Jason for an ungodly early errand), he flushes, quickly looking away. Because it's obvious, even to him, that she’d spent the night. But Annabeth merely sleepily raises a hand in greeting and continues on her way back to her own cabin.

Jason, maybe noticing Nico’s discomfort, simply shrugs. “Musical cabins,” he explains. “Happens a lot.”

Leo nods in agreement. “Yep. I had some really wicked nightmares last week, three nights running. I ended up on Jason’s floor. Would have been in the bed, but Piper got there first,” he adds, disgruntled.

Huh, Nico thinks. Musical cabins. That's a little weird.

After that, he pays more attention. It’s not unusual, as it turns out, to find the Apollo cabin overstuffed with various campers early in the morning, rivalling even the occupancy of the Hermes cabin. Sometimes it’s couples tucked in together, but more often it’s friends, siblings. Seeking comfort, and sleep.

It's six months into Nico's stay at Camp when he begins forgetting to lock the door to Cabin Thirteen. He nearly runs Harley through with his sword the first night he finds the younger boy fast asleep in his cabin. But after that, it quickly becomes routine to wake to the quiet comfort of someone else’s soft snoring across the darkened room. Most often it's Will, brushing a warm hand over Nico's forehead before settling into the other bed, but sometimes it's Harley, and several times Leo, complaining that Jason’s bed was already full.

It’s a little weird, but surprisingly nice. Nico begins leaving his door unlocked most of the time.

On a night late in February, the nightmares are worse than usual. Nico wakes in a cold sweat, heart pounding, tears welling behind his eyelids. He does what he usually does - dresses quickly, and walks. There’s something meditative about the rhythm of his boots on the ground and the sharp, cold air on his skin that usually settles him.

But the thing is, it’s really cold. And after only about half an hour he finds himself standing in the central green, torn. He can't feel his toes, but he can’t quite stomach the thought of returning to his own empty cabin, either.

His frozen feet lead him up the stairs to Cabin Seven. And gods, it’s warm inside.

There’s a soft rustle of blankets from Will’s bunk.

“Nico?” Will’s voice is soft and scratchy. “What’s wrong?”

The taller boy is out of bed and across the cabin in a heartbeat, reaching for Nico’s hand. Scanning him, Nico knows, blue eyes wide with worry.

Nico shakes his head. “I’m fine. Just - couldn’t sleep,” he murmurs, and the concern on Will’s face fades to sympathy.

“The bunk above mine is empty,” he says simply.

And that’s that. Nico climbs up, snuggles in. Will’s messy blond bedhead pops over the edge of the bunk, his smile fond. He squeezes Nico’s arm. “Sleep tight.” And then he disappears.

Nico worries it might be awkward, in the daylight. It’s anything but. The Apollo cabin is a riot of sound and motion in the morning. Austin flings a stuffed turtle at Nico's head. Nico's foot is hanging off the edge of the bunk, and Kayla tickles it, cackling when he squeaks.

“Breakfast time, sleepyhead,” she chirps.

“Sleep well?” Will asks as Nico climbs back down.

And the thing is, he really did.

Time passes. The nightmares wax and wane, but they get easier, mostly.

Until one night in July. It’s almost a year to the day since he came to stay at Camp - Nico thinks, later, maybe that’s why the nightmares hit particularly hard. He wakes shaking, gasping for air, convinced he’s fading again, permanently this time. It scares him so much more than it did when it was actually happening. He shoves his hands against the wood of his headboard, hard, positive they’re going to slip right through. They don’t, but he can't shake the panic.

Nico’s up and out the door in the space of a breath, no hesitation as he makes a beeline, barefoot, for Cabin Seven. The air is cool for July, the full moon shining bright above.

He can feel his panic ease the second he closes the door behind him, soothed by a quiet symphony of soft breathing.

But the bunk above Will’s is occupied tonight, and as Nico's eyes adjust, he realizes all the others are, too.

“Nico?” Will’s voice is a whisper. “Nightmare?” He sits up, silhouetted in moonlight.

“Yeah.” Nico steps closer. “Looks like you’re all full in here, though. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turns to leave, but Will grabs his arm. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. You go back to sleep.”

Will gazes at him in the dark, fingers still wrapped around Nico’s wrist. “Or you could stay. Here.”

“There’s no room, though.”

“I have room,” Will whispers.

Nico blinks at Will’s bunk, then back at Will, his stomach attempting to leap into his throat. Will’s eyes are wide, nervous.

“I... um -” Nico begins. He can feel his face heating at the thought of it.

“Gods, di Angelo, just stop talking and get into his bed. Literally no one cares,” Kayla grumbles from the next bunk over. There appears to be at least one Demeter kid in her bed. Maybe two.

Will’s fighting a grin now and he shrugs. Nico shrugs back, then… climbs into the bed. Will scoots over to make room, pulling the blankets over them both. And gods it’s warm, and it smells like Will, and when nothing else calms him, that always does.

Nico lets his eyes close. Then -

“Do - do I feel like I’m fading?” he asks in a whisper, echoes of the nightmare flashing behind his closed eyelids.

Will gazes at him. Then he reaches for Nico’s hand.

“No,” Will whispers. Someone clears their throat nearby and Will grimaces, yanking the blankets over their heads.

“Did something happen?” he asks, his breath brushing Nico’s face.

“No, just - nightmare."

Will nods in understanding. “No. You’re good,” he smiles. He goes to pull the blankets back down, then seems to reconsider.

“That’s um… that’s usually why I end up in your cabin. At night.” he admits, quiet. “Sometimes... I just need to make sure that you’re still solid.”

Nico stomach flip-flops. "Oh."

Will shrugs, sheepish. He pulls the blankets back down, settling on his side. "Here," he says, reaching for Nico's hand again. "Then neither of us has to worry." He tangles their fingers together, reaching out to lay his other hand on Nico's arm, tethering him.

Will's soft smile in the dark is dazzling, and his hands are warm, and Nico worries his own answering smile might just light up the entire cabin.

When he wakes hours later to the familiar sounds of chaos, his head tucked against Will's shoulder, Will's face buried in his hair, well. He thinks maybe this musical cabins thing isn't so bad after all.

Notes

This is a short one! I tried to challenge myself to write something coherent in 1000 words or less. I almost managed it.

It is also my personal headcanon that Harley kind of attaches himself to Nico & sees him as a big brother. This comes up in something else I'm working on as well.

I would love to hear your related headcanons! Snuggly demigods! Sleeping in heaps like puppies!

Jason may not come up much in my fics but please rest assured he is Always Alive.

#nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #one-shot #prompt fic #my writing #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo #rated g #fluff #other characters appear briefly #minor valgrace maybe?

328 notes · View notes

casual-violinist-fangirl · 1 month

Text

All I can do to Keep you Safe is Hold You Close - 2,317 Words

A part of the collection I have fondly named 'Kaminoans are Assholes.'

Omega has been having trouble sleeping because of nightmares and her solution to that is to... not sleep. Hunter's Jango Fett gene has well and truly activated!

As always this fic is on my AO3 account here, and the link to my masterlist is here.

----------

The first time he had noticed something was wrong was when Omega started asking if she could drink caff in the mornings. Jokingly, Wrecker had let her have a sip of his, him and Echo laughing when they saw the expression on her face. She clearly hadn’t enjoyed the taste. When Tech had enquired as to why she had wanted to try the bitter drink, she had simply shrugged and said that there wasn’t really a reason.

That had been a lie.

Lying in front of Hunter was almost impossible; he could sense even the slightest of changes in a person’s body for crying out loud. To add to that, Omega was an awful liar, making it easy to spot from where he was sat. Glancing around the cabin, it didn’t seem as though any of the others had noticed this, although when he caught Crosshair’s eye he noticed an air of suspicion in his expression. He had noticed too.

The day had gone on as usual and Omega hadn’t asked any more about the caff… Hunter almost allowed himself to forget that she had even lied about wanting to drink it in the first place. She was a little girl, for crying out loud. She was full of energy and the last thing they needed was her pinging about the place before crashing in a heap when the affects ran out. That night, when he had put her to bed, tucking Lula and Trooper into her blankets with her, he had asked how she was. It had come out innocently enough, but clearly he had spooked her because almost straight away her barriers went up, and she was insisting that she was absolutely fine. Not knowing what to do if she didn’t want to talk to him, he had bid her goodnight and climbed back down the ladder from the gunner’s mount.

A week or so later it was becoming more and more apparent that Omega was exhausted. She kept falling asleep on missions at every opportunity she got to rest her legs, and it was getting to the point where Wrecker was having to carry her about. Sheer exhaustion rolled off of her in waves, and the rest of the batch were beginning to be more and more concerned for her wellbeing. She was their little sister… Hunter’s ad’ika (though he would never admit that to his brothers) she deserved to be happy and healthy like all little girls her age.

After one particular mission, Omega had collapsed in a heap in Cid’s bar; the loud music didn’t seem to bother her as she slept, drawing the attention of the Trandoshan.

“What’s with Tiny?” she asked, nodding her head towards the booth where she was resting. Hunter scowled, but that was more because he didn’t know the answer than because she was prying. He went to respond, but Tech stepped in.

“It would appear that Omega has… over done it on the past couple of missions,” he answered in a very reasonable tone. “She clearly needs to go to her bunk when we get back to the ship.”

Cid hadn’t said anything else following on from that, but Hunter could tell that she didn’t buy what Tech had told her, and that even she was concerned for the little girl. “Right…” she responded. “Well you see that she does get that sleep. I can’t have clients coming in thinking I let little kids pass out drunk in my bar.”

Omega had let Hunter scoop her up and carry her back to the ship, her head lolling on his shoulder as she wordlessly took in her surroundings. He had thought there and then that maybe he’d be able to get her into bed quickly when he got back to the Marauder…

He could not have been more wrong.

The moment he mentioned the ‘b’ word, Omega had perked up and started insisting that she wasn’t even remotely tired. “Can’t I just stay up for a little longer, Hunter?” she had asked, her big brown eyes trying to persuade him that he didn’t need to send her to bed. He had sighed, crossing his arms and trying to put on his best ‘dad’ face.

“You need sleep, Omega,” he reasoned as he reached into the gunner’s mount and pulled her pyjamas down. She pouted at him, and for a moment he was convinced that she was going to start crying.

“B-but…” she trailed, and Hunter could see an element of conflict on her features. She wanted to tell him something, he just knew it, but before she could get any words out Wrecker came parading into the room, a little tipsy. So much for talking to her.

"I’m sorry Omega,” he continued, watching her body deflate with disappointment. “I’m not budging on this one.”

She had gone to bed, but he had noticed how she tried to drag out every element of getting ready; she had taken nearly twenty minutes brushing her teeth for kriff’s sake. Looking back on that now, he should have seen just how reluctant she was to sleep and realised that something was wrong. He should have reached out to her.

Other abnormalities in her behaviour should have stuck out to him, and he found himself cursing for not noticing all of this sooner. Especially given what was about to come.

——

(Three Weeks Later)

There were plenty of times that Hunter cursed his enhanced hearing; being on a ship full of snorers when he was trying desperately to sleep was one of those times. As he lay in his bunk, all he could hear was the heavy breathing of Wrecker directly above him, and the light snores of Tech from his chair in the cockpit. He had ear buds for times like these, but whilst the noise irritated him to no end, not being able to hear made him feel vulnerable and he tried not to use them unless he absolutely had to.

Rolling over and resisting the urge to groan, he buried his face into the GAR standard issue pillow. It wasn’t exactly comfy, but being a solider meant that you had to be able to sleep anywhere. This lumpy pillow and hard bunk was a godsend compared to some of the situations he’d found himself in over the years. Distantly, he could hear the tapping of keys on some sort of device… it sounded a little like Crosshair’s data pad. Clearly he had joined Echo on watch then seeing as he couldn’t hear either of them anywhere else. They weren’t sleeping, that’s for sure.

Having Crosshair back had meant a little bit of adjusting for the members of the Bad Batch. For the first couple of days he had been incredibly isolated, not wanting to go near any of his brothers or even his little sister. Then, slowly, little by little he had started to integrate himself back into the lives of those who loved him. He had taken a shine to Omega, although he was loathed to show it to anyone except the little girl herself… now that Hunter thought about it, the only time he had seen Omega sleeping peacefully over the past few weeks was the morning she had been found in her bunk, clinging onto Crosshair’s sleeping form as though it was the only thing keeping her from floating out of the ship.

Hunter made a mental note to ask Crosshair about that in the morning, but his train of thoughts was cut off when he heard what sounded like a muted sob. Sitting bolt upright in bed and suddenly no longer tired, Hunter’s eyes darted around the room as he searched for the source of the sound. Not noticing anything out of the ordinary, he frowned, which deepened when he heard the sobbing sound a second time. Having been ready this time, he climbed out of bed and tiptoed towards the noise. Almost as though she could sense his presence, Omega’s snivels stopped as he reached the bottom of the ladder leading to her room.

“’Mega?” he asked quietly, not opening the curtain… he didn’t want to spook her or make her feel as though he was intruding on her space. There was silence for a moment before a quiet shuffling of blankets could be heard and a small hand reached to open the curtain.

Omega’s face was blotchy and red, her cheeks tear-stained and her eyes puffy from her crying; how had Hunter not noticed her sooner? He cursed to himself, making a mental note to be more aware in the future. “H-Hunter,” a small sob escaped her as she launched herself at him without hesitating and clung to his neck.

To his credit, Hunter reacted quickly; he carefully scooped Omega out of the gunners’ mount, cradling her trembling form as he wondered quietly back to his bunk and sat down. The little girl still clinging onto him, he stroked a hand through her hair and whispered soothing nothings to her as he waited for her cries to subside.

When her breathing eventually did even out and the sniffles came to a stop, she looked up at him with a bleary look on her face. Kriff, she looked exhausted. How long had she been going on like this?

“Ad’ika,” his voice croaked as he used the term for the first time. Omega’s eyes widened at the expression, and if he didn’t know better he was convinced that she pulled him just a little closer. “Have you been struggling to sleep?”

Bingo. He’d hit the nail on the head it seemed, as the little girl in his arms cried even more.

“E-every time I close my eyes,” she sobbed. “I see something different and it’s horrible…” she took a shuddering breath. “I’ve been trying to stay awake at night so that the nightmares don’t come.”

Hunter let out a shaky breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “You’ve gotta get sleep, ‘Mega,” he soothed as he kept stroking her hair.

“I’m so tired,” she mumbled as her tears slowly came to a stop, reduced to small hiccups now as she rested her head against his chest.

An idea occurred to him, something that he hadn’t done since he and his brothers were cadets, all cowering away and petrified of Nala se. “You could always stay here for the night,” he whispered, his suggestion catching her attention. She didn’t move to look at him but nodded, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her new pyjamas (Crosshair had insisted that she have sleeping clothes, though he wouldn’t say why he had become so interested). Shifting carefully, he set her down on the bunk next to him and went to put his back against the wall to make more space for her.

That clearly wasn’t what she’d had in mind as Omega frowned slightly and clambered over him, putting herself between him and the wall. Hunter let out a small chuff of laughter as he rolled over, letting the little girl get comfortable; by the time the pair of them had stopped fidgeting, Omega was curled into Hunter’s embrace, the arm he draped over her clutched to her chest as she hugged it like it was Lula. The sergeant was a little uncomfortable, but any thoughts of that melted away as Omega whispered something that only he could hear.

“Goodnight, buir.”

He just managed to choke back the sudden wave of emotion that washed over him. That was… unexpected. Clearing his throat, he smiled softly at the little girl in his arms.

“Goodnight, ad’ika.”

————

A week or so later Hunter was lying in bed, reading off of his holo pad. Omega’s nightmares hadn’t stopped, of course they hadn’t, but knowing that she could go to her buir when the nightmares arrived made them that much easier to cope with. It meant that he’d had to contend with having Omega, Lula and sometimes even Trooper in bed with him but if that was the price he had to pay for the girl’s comfort? So be it.

Speak of the devil, a sniffle to his right caught his attention and he looked up only to see that Omega had snuck out of her bunk and to his bed. She looked at him with pleading eyes for only a moment before he lifted his blanket.

“Come on,” he whispered, allowing her to climb into the bed and to her usual spot between her buir and the wall. Her head rested on his chest as he continued tapping at the holo pad; he had been doing some research into a new knife he’d had his eye on, but turned that off in favour of a mind-numbing game he knew Omega enjoyed watching him play. It was a game where you had to match three blocks of the same colour in order for them to disappear and for the items trapped at the top of the screen to reach the bottom.

He thought the little girl had drifted off to sleep, but was proven wrong when a small hand reached out and tapped three blocks on the screen. Letting out a small laugh at her antics, Hunter pressed a gentle kiss to the girls’ temple before the pair continued playing the game together, taking it in turns. He knew they’d both be tired in the morning but they had nothing planned for the day, a little lay-in wouldn’t hurt anyone. It was in moments like these that he allowed himself to make the most of the normality of it all, in the vain hope that one day he’d be able to give his little girl the childhood she deserved.

“Love you, buir.”

“Love you too, ‘Mega.”

Yeah, he could definitely put up with sharing his bunk with his kid and her toys if it meant that he got to have moments like these.

55 notes · View notes

anaslair · 4 months

Note

Hiii, I wanted to give the match ups a try cause why not. I go by she/her and prefer to be matched with a male character, I’m also underaged. Oh and I’d prefer to be a demigod, personally I think I’d be the daughter of Hestia or maybeee Hephaestus or Apollo, idrk 😭. Anywaysss, about me. I loveee music/art/film, really anything creative, like I have a deep appreciation for them and artists. I actually used to go to a performing arts school. I also love nature and appreciate that as well. Like, I love going on hikes when I can and even just looking at the beauty of the nature wherever I am. I’m not really much of a sports person, like I love playing but I wouldn’t do anything professionally. I do martial arts though, which is definitely a biggg passion of mine. As a person, although it doesn’t necessarily feel like it to me, sometimes I’m pretty sure I’m fairly outgoing, at least more than other people I know. But I’m also the type of person to really open up and become more social and talkative the more you get to know me. Oh and final thing, I think I’m pretty books smart but not very streets smart, if you know what I mean. 😀 Anywayssss thanks for reading all of this if you did, it’d be really cool to hear back from you!! 🫶🫶

OKAY HEAR ME OUT!! HEAR ME OUT ON THIS ONE!!!!!!!!!!!

So, it’s not that well known, but Hestia is actually one of the virgin godesses of Olympus (like Artemis and Athena). But!!! We COULD pretend she has kids like Athena does 👀 ✨just because she wants to✨

Like, Athena’s kids come from her mind… maybe Hestia’s could come from her heart? Like figuratively maybe? She’s the goddess of hearth & home so it could kind of make sense? Pls bear with me this will go rlly well with who I’m matching you with so let’s just go with it 🤓

Also the nature thing UGHHH, I always had this head cannon that Percy became a bit of a nature activist after witnessing Pan’s death 😩😩😩 Anyway let’s get to it, I really hope you like this 🫶

Tysm for requesting!!! Have a great day <3

I match you with…

Percy Jackson!!

-Disclaimer-

The requester is a minor and so is Percy at this stage of the books!!

After the second titan war ended, Percy started to value some things way more than he did before it all went down

Not to say he was an ungrateful person, far from it. Percy really did have a heart of gold and often put his loved ones above his own personal needs. Loyalty was his fatal flaw after all

But there was just some things he felt he didn’t pay much attention to before the war, like Hestia for example. The goddess practically lived on camp grounds and he barely even acknowledged her before she saved him when he needed it the most, reminding him what was most important when everything was falling apart during the war

Or Pan. the god of the wild had practically died in front of him, telling him and his friends that the future of nature, of the world they lived in was actually in their hands. Everyone had to do their part for it to survive

He had to pay them back somehow, honor them

So that’s why he was THRILLED when the first Hestia kid arrived on camp after he made the gods promise they would claim all of their kids and send them to camp Half Blood, where all of the gods would have cabins for their descendants

This was his chance to pay back Hestia for her help!! So he promptly asked Chiron to mentor the new girl and teach her what she needed to know about self defense and sword fighting, since she was practically his age and had to survive until now with the mortals without proper training

In fact, how did you manage to do that anyway?

He didn’t really know, but he felt he was the best man for the job. His sword fighting skills were unmatched, only bested by Luke’s

So, not gonna lie. He was kind of waiting to show off his skills on your first lesson and help you with whatever you needed

He told you he would first show you some hand to hand combat moves before y’all could move on to sword fighting, to which you shrugged it out, being cool with it

Too cool even, you seemed super comfortable with it 🧐

“Okay. First, I’ll come at you slowly and you can try and stop the blow however you feel is right. This will be kind of a warm up to start things off. But don’t worry, I won’t actually hurt you, if you feel uncomfortable in any way, please let me know okay?” He said, smiling kindly at you while taking an offensive stance

You nodded, waiting for him to start

He slowly swung at you, being careful to not scare you out

Imagine how completely and utterly bamboozled he was when he found himself lying on the ground, the arm he swung at you now twisted and pressed on to his back, just enough to keep him on the ground

He was like 🧍‍♂️

And you were like 😄 so what’s next?

Bro what the fuck

That was honestly so impressive that when you offered a hand to help him get back to his feet, his cheeks where slightly flushed

He cleaned his throat, fixing his camp Half Blood necklace back into place

“Okay so I guess you’ve got that part covered” He said, giving you his signature sarcastic smirk

You let out a small laugh in response, explaining to him that you actually loved martial arts and that stuff came easy to you

He was completely fascinated, asking you to help him better his hand to hand combat skills after you guys finished

That was the start of a kind of chaotic friendship between the two of you. You helped him better himself in your area while he gave you sword fighting lessons

You weren’t really a fan of it but Percy was so talented and so patient while teaching you that you were winning sparring duels in no time

Y’all were a power duo in capture the flag for sure. You knocked people out and Percy wouldn’t let anyone get even slightly near you with riptide

You knew some strategies in theory from some books you had read and Percy knew how to put them into action

Iconic

You quickly developed a strong bond, getting closer and closer to each other every day

You always ranted to him about art in general, he didn’t really understand most of the things you told him but he always listened attentively, even memorizing some of your favorite artists to get you stuff related to them when he went home for the school year

You often hanged out by the lake, you absolutely loved how it looked when the sun hit it just right, with the trees reflected on it

One time, Percy took you to the bottom of it, putting an air bubble around you both so you could see how beautiful it was underwater

Your eyes shone bright at the view, but you frowned as soon as you saw a couple of plastic wrappers at the bottom

You asked Percy to lower the bubble so you could collect them and properly throw them out at the surface

That made Percy stare at you with such intensity and admiration that you wondered just what the hell you had done to get him looking at you like that

You avoided his eyes, ears tinted red

It was no secret that you had developed feelings for him, he was so sweet and kind

You wondered if he felt the same

Suddenly, his warm hand met yours as he slowly interlaced your fingers together

You looked at him, eyes wide

The smile on his face made his intentions pretty clear

#percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson fanfiction #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue #chalice of the gods #percy jackson books #pjo hoo toa #the heroes of olympus #annabeth chase #piper mclean #leo valdez x reader #jason grace imagine #matchups #fanfiction #fanfic

92 notes · View notes

gotham-ruaidh · 2 months

Text

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) || Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 15a (Dreams) || Chapter 15b (I Sing A Song of Love) || Chapter 15c (You Can Do This If You Try) || Chapter 16 (Let That Feeling Grab You Deep Inside || Chapter 17A: Never Tear Us Apart || Chapter 17B: It’s Tough To Be Somebody, And It’s Hard Not To Fall Apart || Chapter 17C: I’m Wishing, Lord, That I Was Stoned || Chapter 18: Turn The Page || Chapter 19A: When You’re Alone, Do You Let Go? || Chapter 19B: Heading For A Spin ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 20A: I Don't Need Nothing When I'm By Your Side

So hold me close, better hang on tight Buckle up, baby, it's a bumpy ride We're two kids hitching down the road of life Our world, our fight

-- “Born To Be My Baby,” Bon Jovi (1988) [click here to listen]

North Carolina || February 1989

Jamie frowned, looking back and forth between the shelf he’d just put together and the three unpacked boxes of books (two marked CLAIRE, one marked JAMIE).

Would she like them organized alphabetically by author? Genre? Size?

He rubbed the back of his neck, thinking. Or perhaps she wanted medical books in her workroom? And maybe he could put his music books on the cabinet in his studio –

“There you are.”

He hadn’t heard Claire pad into the room – at some point they would need to get throw rugs to protect the gorgeous old hardwood floors – and smiled as she effortlessly stepped into his embrace.

They held each other for a long moment – his lips against her hair, her face buried in the safety of his neck.

Almost three months since the acoustic tour had ended, the night before Claire’s birthday. About six weeks since they had closed on their dream house, nestled against a mountain in the forests of North Carolina, not too far from The Ridge. And about two weeks since the items in storage – from her packed-up apartment in Boston, and his packed-up house in Los Angeles – had arrived.

The property had everything they needed. Privacy and solitude, of course. An old barn that they were using as a garage for Jamie’s motorcycle and cars. The house – an old cabin, really, dating from the 1800s and which had been lovingly expanded over the years – was perfect. A spacious living room, complete with the original stone fireplace. An eat-in kitchen, with newly replaced appliances. Two small rooms off the back that were now his music studio and her workroom – spaces to pursue their interests. A modestly-sized master bedroom. And a small extra bedroom – which for now was for guests, though God willing would be a nursery very soon.

Claire had insisted on doing two things quickly, before spending their time unpacking all the boxes.

The first was to hang his six gold and two platinum records in his studio – and he agreed, after he had hung her framed medical school diploma on the wall of her workroom.

The second was to install the fax machine on the bare floor of the studio – which, together with the phone, was their only link to the outside world.

For as much as they isolated themselves in this beautiful, peaceful place – the world pushed along without them.

In March, they would leave for L.A. and three weeks of rehearsals with the band. Maybe play a few small gigs in clubs on the Sunset Strip – Jamie had always wanted to do that. And in April, they’d fly to Europe, and kick off the tour that had swelled to 120 dates and stretched into 1990.

Colum was busier than ever – finalizing logistics, negotiating with local promoters, running interference with the suits from the label, upgrading the concerts from arenas to soccer stadiums. He had a conference call with the band every Tuesday – with Ian calling in from Lallybroch in upstate New York, and Angus from various resort spots in Mexico and the Caribbean (“I can’t believe Charlotte and Molly haven’t worn him out yet,” Jamie had mused to Claire one day. She had only shrugged and said, “they take care of each other”). Colum would always have a punchlist of decisions for the band – OK to book studio time during the week off in Scandinavia in July? The roadies couldn’t figure out the pyro setup without the band, OK to wait until rehearsals? They would need to film at least three music videos, which one could be a live performance? – and follow up with decisions in a fax sent later that day.

Jamie had been clear with Colum that he had three conditions for the tour: that Claire would be with him, that Raymond would be traveling with the band, and that the same no alcohol/drugs/groupies rule from the acoustic tour would carry through to this tour. Of course Colum had agreed. Just as he’d agreed to make provisions for Jenny to periodically fly out to visit Ian, and for Angus to always have a suite with two bathrooms to keep his girlfriends happy.

Claire and Jamie knew that this tour would be difficult, for so many different reasons. But they would be better prepared this time, to draw strength from each other, and to have Raymond for support. And maybe, just maybe they would return home from Europe with the best souvenir of all…

“Another fax from Colum,” Claire murmured after a long while.

Jamie snorted against her hair. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed.”

“I do admire how hard he’s working for you and for the band. And how much he’s keeping all of you in the loop on the decisions he’s making. He doesn’t want any surprises.”

“I’d imagine not. The amount of bullshit he has to be putting up with right now must be insane. I just hope he doesn’t crack.”

“He never said if he’s bringing Tricia on the tour.” Tricia – Colum’s wife of more than ten years. She stood a head taller than her husband, still impossibly beautiful in her late thirties, smiling for every frown on her husband’s face. Claire had only met her once – couldn’t say she really knew her – but she knew enough about her.

How she had first met Colum at a party in 1970, when he was a roadie for Led Zeppelin and she was part of a gaggle of groupies that held court at the Riot House in L.A.

How, when she and her girlfriends joined the Led Zep tour the following summer, he had punched out the lighting guy at the Cow Palace in San Francisco when he heard the guy didn’t understand what Tricia meant by saying “no”.

How Geordie Ash – the reporter who had put Jamie (and, in a way, Claire) on the map last year with that Rolling Stone article – had sent flowers to her hotel room every day for a month during Led Zeppelin’s 1973 U.S. tour. Not knowing, of course, that she was allergic to lilies – or how Colum, who knew more about her by that point than he cared to admit, had wordlessly disposed of them for her, every day that month.

“I don’t think she likes to tour.” Jamie’s thumb traced lazy circles on the skin of Claire’s back. “Too many bad memories.”

If you asked any rock journalist or musician who had found Alex MacGregor – assistant to Led Zeppelin manager Peter Grant – dead in his Seattle hotel room in the spring of 1975, they would all say quite confidently that it had been Colum Laird, who by that point had advanced to lead Zeppelin’s touring crew.

But a handful of people – Peter Grant, and Colum, and Jamie, and now Claire – knew the truth.

Tricia woke up, Alex cold beside her in bed, a needle in his arm. The only thing she knew to do was slip quietly down the hall, tumbling into Colum’s room…and finally, his arms. Where she had remained ever since.

“I couldn’t imagine being away from you for so long.” Claire sighed. “I don’t know how they make it work.”

Jamie shrugged. “They love each other very deeply. They fixed the broken pieces in each other. And now she has the two boys to keep her busy.” He kissed her forehead. “Something for us to aspire to, perhaps. What’s in the fax?”

She held it out for him to read. Sharing a smile at Colum’s scrawl.

J+C: I’m not calling because I interrupted enough moments between you on tour and I’ll probably do it again this year. I don’t have Raymond’s info pls have him get in touch so we have a copy of his credentials and the travel agent can make all arrangements for Europe. I got the label to foot the bill for his travel meals and hotels, convinced them it’s a business expense, you’re welcome. Stay out of trouble. Colum.

“We’ll have him give Colum a call after he arrives this afternoon,” Jamie mused, folding the fax and sliding it into the back pocket of his jeans.

Claire nodded. “The guest room is all ready. And I’m glad Dougal and Gillian and William will be here tomorrow – I’m so happy they’re so close by.”

Jamie squeezed her shoulder, and released her. “As am I. Now, I have a question for you about these books…”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #little bit better than i used to be

57 notes · View notes

sunnitheapollokid · 11 days

Text

*. ࿐ ˚₊✩₊ daughter of apollo — nightbreaker, plague-bearer, bulls-eye shooter, SUNNI! ⭐️

➳ sunni in the pjoverse headcanons.

☀️ sunni’s notes : GUUYYS! i did it!! lots of hyping for this,, and I WILL BE TAGGING THOSE I WANNA HEARD HEACANONS FROM!! 💝 like puuuh LEASE <333 i had so much fun writing these uuughh.. take me to camp half-blood i’m actually begging, on my knees 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

୨୧ i’d like to think that she would get claimed privately,, maybe like just if she was bathing under the sun during a summer day— AND BOOM! claimed.

୨୧ campfire singing would be her favorite part of the day <3.

୨୧ will and kayla are really close,, but SUNNI AND AUSTIN ARE CLOSE. i’m really serious—

୨୧ will’s more healing oriented, kayla’s more archery oriented. but these two are definitely more music / the arts oriented.

୨୧ also close with all her half-blood sisters (obv,, looking at u zuzu and leah)

୨୧ holds camp ground tours for the newcomers!

୨୧ biggest secret candy stash. it’s the pinkie pie in her i fear.

୨୧ SHE LOOOVES all the campers! friends with alot of them <3

୨୧ but has a soft spot for the kids of aphrodite, iris, and poseidon.

୨୧ definitely moreee chaotic than her siblings i’d think?? like—

୨୧ i saw this headcanon that kids of apollo get a zapping feeling in their neck when they lie.

୨୧ BUT SUNNI.. I FEAR.. 😭

୨୧ “sunni, you ate all my cookies?”

୨୧ “no?”

୨୧ *zap!*

୨୧ “why’d you flinch like that?”

୨୧ “flinch like what??”

୨୧ genuinely can’t sleep without a night light.

୨୧ didn’t see apollo as her dad at first because of resentment from leaving her mom like that, but after the events of trials of apollo, she grew to like him.

୨୧ was one of the first apollo kids to soften to him.

୨୧ not the worst at archery, but also not the best.

୨୧ LOVES SWIMMING!! it’s such a summer activity, she loves it so much.

୨୧ also very colorful?? always stacked in jewelry??

୨୧ was thought of as a daughter of iris or hermes at first, but it wasn’t THAT shocking that she’d be a daughter of apollo.

୨୧ biggest hugger,, i’m so dead serious.

୨୧ her siblings don’t mind physical touch, but she’s always the first to initiate.

୨୧ the most blind out of all her siblings, but refuses to wear her glasses.

୨୧ when she’s stuck in the infirmary tending to campers, she has those cute cartoon bandaids for them.

୨୧ you’ll find her stuck in the arts n’ crafts cabin or reading most of the time!!

୨୧ most likely to be good friends with rachel dare, leo valdez (bf bf bf), hazel levesque, travis stoll.

୨୧ such a scout and d.i.y girl, you need something? she’ll have it for you!

୨୧ called ‘sunshine’ a lot!

୨୧ favorite artists include ; taylor swift, ABBA, sabrina, dayglow, kali uchis.

୨୧ will sing the hamilton and mamma mia soundtrack with pride <3.

might add more to this,, these are just some from the top of my head!! + let me hear your camp-half blood headcanons of yourself nd tag some others if u wanna! ♡ (no pressure hehe.) 💐

@canonfeminine @pinkdiorluvr @maybxlle @auroraofthesun1 @nuncscioquidsitamor-14 @hopelesslyromanticshark @gentlehue + anyone who wants to tbh!!

#sunni likes to ramble im afraid ♡#sunni does not sleep #pjoverse #percy jackson #camp half-blood #apollo kids

53 notes · View notes

meowzfordayz · 1 year

Text

rude boy

Author’s Note: ohmygosh and weLCOME TO MY LONGEST ONE SHOT (thus far) !! 😭🥳 Huge shoutout to @linahopeeeee 🥰 for commissioning this + their patience w/ me, bc this would’ve never been written otherwise lmao. 💀 Read the content warnings (CW), and ENJOY. 🤤😏🤗

rude boy

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Word Count: ~5,100

CW: 18+NSFW, alcohol, cream!pie, dark humor, degrading language, explicit language, Fem!Reader, mast!rbation, oral, spit, step!cest

Song Inspo: Rude Boy by Rihanna

Commission Fulfilled: Okay so you and your family are going to spend the holidays at a cabin. You agree to stop and pick up your rude step brother katsuki (who you’ve always had sexual tension with) , so the two of you drive to the cabin but a blizzard starts before your parents are able to leave out and is going to last for a couple of days so it’s just going to be you and katsuki until the roads are clear. The two of you try to stay away from each other until you decide to play a couple of drinking game, the alcohol gets to the two of you and one thing leads to another next thing you know his head is between your legs and it’s just continues on from there.

So I guess you can make the reader a little nerdy, and on the chubbier side with bigger boobs. I want the parents to be my mom and his dad. And he can be degrading but also praising her along the way. And yeah we can have a bit of a plot in there

~faqs~

Bakugou Katsuki you mull over his name, cinnamon Altoid between your teeth, mellow classical music floating in the heat of your car. A dusting of snow softens your surroundings, wipers squeaking intermittently, streetlamps illuminating the ethereal entrance of winter. Not too busy you hum quietly, city full of festive emptiness, lit windows and crowded driveways replacing typically packed sidewalks and noisy traffic. Despite hitting nearly every red light, you’re proud that—for once—you managed to leave early, well aware of Katsuki’s disdain for tardiness.

“Could you pick up Katsuki?”

“Katsuki? He’s your step-son,” you snort, “And hi mom, I’m fine, thanks for asking.”

“And your step-brother,” your mom sighs, “I’m happy you’re fine. Anyway, you’re closest to his apartment. Besides, if the weather’s bad, then I’d rather you drive with company.”

“The cabin’s what, an hour away?”

“Please.”

“Is this why you called me?”

“I called you because I love you and miss you and can’t wait to celebrate the holidays with you!” and… “And because it would really make things easier on his dad and I if you could pick him up.”

“But he’s so…”

Unbearable.

Sarcastic.

“Sweet, honey” your mom clucks her tongue, “He’s a good kid, just like you.”

“Gee, we’re such good kids,” you scowl, eyes rolling.

“So you’ll pick him up?”

“Okay. Sure. Yeah.”

Handsome.

Delicious.

I’m demanding gas money you huff, fingers tightening then relaxing around the steering wheel And I’m staying on aux. Another red light gives you a moment to check yourself in the rearview mirror, stubborn wisps of hair refusing to blow into place, lipgloss sticky and Too glittery as you chew on your bottom lip. A gift’s a gift you shrug, foot on the gas as the light finally changes, only slightly irritated that Bakugou Katsuki decided “girly shit” was what you “needed” for the holidays — never mind how often you rambled about literally. Anything. Else. Maybe he has something more… considerate, planned for the cabin? you entertain the idea for less than second, reality settling in as you shake your head Do not hold your breath for him pinching your cheek Dumbass.

A quick glance at the clock tells you you’re perfectly on time as you turn onto his street, phone buzzing with a prompt You’re late text message just as you command Siri to Call Rude Boy.

“I’m thirty seconds from your front door,” you snap, “And definitely not late.”

“To be on time is to be early,” Katsuki drawls, “And to be on time?” scoffing, “Late.”

“Do you even care about spending the holidays with us?” you mutter, “Besides, I stopped for groceries too, so really, you should be grateful.”

“Of course!” he exclaims, sugar sweet and absolutely lying, “What’s the holidays without the family? I’m gushing with gratitude.”

“Piss off.”

“No can do,” his smirk audible through your car’s speakers, “If I’m rememberin’ correctly, then that’s your car pulling up to my apartment,” voice lowering, “So you’re about t’be stuck with me,” his amused laughter grating as you shift into park, “Although, I guess I could sit in the back, give you some space.”

Space.

Exhaling deeply, memory of his callouses rough against your skin in a too firm handshake flitting bright and involuntary across your vision.

Stuck with me.

Nowhere to go if he sits beside you, broad shoulders squeezed into the passenger seat, manspreading with a taunting glint in his stare, clearing his throat as your fingernails tap erratically on the steering wheel, wondering what it’d feel like if they could graze his thigh instead-

tap tap “Oi idiot!”

Katsuki’s face appears practically beside you, car window protecting you from his glare as you flip him off.

“Unlock your car,” he shouts, palm smacking loudly on freezing metal, “It’s fucking cold, and my shit’s getting damp.”

Flipping him off again, you acquiesce, gut sinking at the click of your doors unlocking, inhaling slowly as though enough oxygen might smooth the crinkling of your heart.

“Pop the trunk,” he demands as soon as he opens the passenger door, snowflakes on his scarf melting at the blast of heat from the interior, “Unless you want a wet backseat.”

Unless you want a wet backseat.

Your body folded beneath his strong-

“Bitch, I’m talking to you.”

“The trunk’s open,” you retort, “Dipshit.”

“Did someone skip their coffee this morning?” he pouts, mock sympathy heavy, “I may or may not have packed a few bottles of Starbucks frappuccino,” sultry edge to his tone as he leans toward the center console, “And if you ask nicely, then your oniisan might feel like sharin’.”

“I thought it was fucking cold,” you hiss, forearms prickling at the faint scent of amber and moss, “And that your shit was getting damp.”

“You like my cologne,” Katsuki murmurs abruptly.

Not a question. Not harshly. A gentle balm of confidence coating the string tying your desire to his implication.

“Your oniisan has impeccable taste, doesn’t he?” his signature smirk returning, passenger door slammed shut before you can rebut.

“How much longer?” Katsuki sighs, practically horizontal beside you.

“Too long,” you grunt.

“Tch, that’s not very nice,” fake pout visible in your peripheral, “And after I shared a frappuccino with you?”

“For once,” you scowl, “This isn’t about you. The snow’s picking up, and we’re still half an hour away.”

“Aww, princess can’t handle a snowstorm?”

“I can handle it well enough to ensure your side gets the brunt of a crash.”

“Sounds premeditated to me,” shit eating grin on his face.

“And don’t call me princess.”

“Why not?” eyes narrowing, “You look like a princess with those glossy lips.”

Sucking in a breath, you gaze sternly ahead, cheeks warming, “A gift’s a gift.”

“Orrr you love your oniisan, and wearin’ the lipgloss he picked out specially for you makes you feel all cozy and fuzzy.”

“Why would I love you?” you snap, irritation palpable as you glance at him.

Damn.

It’s impossible to ignore his hands resting large and hot on his thighs, sweatpants thick and grey, waistband slung low from slouching in the passenger seat.

Why would I love you?

Impossible to resist tracing the edges of your mouth with the tip of your tongue, lipgloss somehow tasting better at the image of Bakugou Katsuki squatting in an aisle full of make up, your pretty smile at the forefront of his thoughts as he ponders whether you’d look best tinted bubblegum pink or sunset red.

Kissing him, or his cock.

To refocus on the road, too engrossed in your frustration—your forbidden daydreaming—to notice the gleam in his stare as he watches you, involuntary flex of his calves as he imagines showing you exactly why you would love him.

“Because I let you drive,” he mutters roughly.

“You let me drive? This is my car,” you scoff, “Give me another reason.”

“Whatever,” teeth gritted, forcing the imagined warmth, wetness, suction of your lips from his mind, “Just get us to the cabin.”

“So you don’t have another reason?” goading him now, “Or you won’t give me one?” twirling on the cusp of too far, “My love can be very nice, oniisan, but you have to earn it,” your nonchalance toying with his control, “And unfortunately for you, fancy lipgloss isn’t really my thing.”

Which you would know if you ever listened to me you tack on silently, recollection of his normal pompous and inattention calming your simmering ache.

Katsuki’s expression remains brooding and unreadable, palms sweaty—not that you have any way of knowing—as he resists adjusting himself, willing his body to Behave, fuck. Maybe fancy lipgloss isn’t really your thing, but he’s satisfied enough women to know the steady, rhythmic pressure of his cock splitting open your pussy could absolutely be your thing.

“So what is your thing?” he rasps, declaring fuck all to the quickly fading neon of NO TREPASSING, steps heavy and determined as he blatantly shifts his growing bulge, deep groan resonating scandalous and enticing at the fleeting friction of movement.

“My thing,” your voice heart stoppingly quiet, NO TRESPASSING irrevocably trampled with your next sentence, “Is delicious men jerking off in my passenger seat as I drive them to our destination, oniisan.”

“I’m delicious,” he smirks, hand slipping into his sweatpants, under his briefs, tip of his cock leaking precum between his practiced, calloused fingers, “And I’m in your passenger seat.”

The hell am I doing?! as you swallow nervously, every ounce of self restraint committed to keeping your eyes glued to the road — to ensuring your first time with Bakugou Katsuki isn’t on the side of a highway, your knees hung over his rippling shoulders, back squished into your leather seats as he pounds into your welcoming, greedy hole.

“You with me princess?” he murmurs slyly, deftly flicking his wrist, cock engorged and straining in its confines, “I wonder if I’ll be able to cum before we arrive.”

“Is your dick broken? Of course you’ll cum before we arrive.”

Katsuki nearly chokes on your smugness, balls tightening at the bite in your retort, half wanting to prove you wrong because How high and mighty and accurate of you to claim such power when you’re clearly squirming for relief; and half wanting to spill into his lap, staining your precious passenger seat in the process, showing off as he aims in your direction, cum splattering opaque and unexpected on your fuzzy sweater.

“My dick isn’t broken,” reaching lower to cup his balls, “I can assure you my stamina is plentiful, and my refractory period minimal.”

“Eloquent words for a man with a hand stuffed down his pants,” your core betraying you as it flutters at the promise lurking beneath his assurance.

“D’ya prefer filth?” he growls, shooting you a withering, ravenous look, “Because I can be filthy, princess. I can tease the nastiest, pathetic noises from that pert mouth of yours, can make a fuckin’ mess of your lips,” gesturing lewdly at your crotch, “Till they’re as smeared and glossy as the ones wrapped around my cock,” grip increasingly firm as he continues stroking his shaft, motivated by your throat clenching as he paints his vivid fantasy.

Doesn’t realize how fuckin’ tantalizing she is, out of breath, her little shudders, without me needin’ to touch her.

“I bet you prefer filth. Bet your thing extends beyond delicious men jerking off beside you,” finally freeing his cock, slapping its reddened, swollen head against his black and orange hoodie, vision tunneling when you audibly gasp, car swerving slightly. “Bet you prefer delicious men using your slutty, perfect cunt to jerk off instead of their fist, hm?” eyes closing as the swell of climax threatens to overtake his ability to talk, “Bet you prefer your delicious oniisan fucking you within an inch of consciousness, proving why you should love him, why you should love him and his fat, throbbing cock.”

A strangled whimper escapes you, soft moans filling your car as Katsuki orgasms, limbs twitching with each consecutive spurt of cum, splotches glistening on his hoodie, the glove box latch, your empty Starbucks frappuccino bottle nestled in the center cup holder.

Fuck you exhale shakily, clit tingling Whatthefuck, whatthefuck, what. The. Fuck.

Fuck he inhales sharply, tugging off his hoodie in one fluid motion, shirt catching on its lining to reveal solid planes of exerted, flushed muscle That was, unfuckinggodly shock registering And she didn’t even touch me.

You try—and fail—to avoid stealing a peek.

This can’t happen again sinking wary and nauseating in both your stomachs How the fuck am I going to get through this vacation? tension worse than it ever was.

I want him you think to yourself, dizzy as you turn on your blinker, exit approaching.

I need her Katsuki thinks to himself, unraveling as he cleans your car with the sleeves of his hoodie.

“Not much longer,” you mumble.

“Not much longer,” he echoes.

The lingering scent of his pleasure holds you hostage—keenly so—heady darkness swirling… waiting… ready…

“Have you and Katsuki left yet?”

You frown at her tone, noting its slight dip, “Yeah, mom. In fact, we just arrived,” realization creeping up your spine as you stare at your duffel bag plopped heavy and full on your bed, “You aren’t going to make it.”

Her sigh confirms your statement, “We didn’t leave in time, and the snow got really bad, really fast. I’m still willing to make the drive, but-”

“Don’t bother,” you interject, eyes rolling at your horrendously amazing luck, “Better safe than sorry. We’ll enjoy the cabin for you, and we can always celebrate together afterwards.”

“Are you sure?” tentative surprise in her voice, “I know Katsuki gets on your nerves, and hoped his dad and I could provide a bit of a buffer.”

“Mom, I’d rather him getting on my nerves than you ending up injured or dead in a ditch. In this weather, it’s not worth the risk.”

Laughter crackles through your phone as your mom exhales, evidently relieved at your lack of a fuss, “Well I’m glad you at least love me that much.”

“I do mom, love you lots.”

“Don’t trash the cabin, and leave the cleaners a decent tip, okay? Hopefully you won’t go too stir crazy.”

“It’s only a couple of days,” you snort, “I brought a few books, and I can probably occupy myself by undertaking unnecessarily elaborate recipes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.”

“Maybe try to get to know Katsuki? His dad tells me he’s great in the kitchen…”

“Do not push me,” you grumble, “I don’t cook for taste — I cook for fun.”

“Alright, I won’t. Thank you for being calm about this. I’m sorry we didn’t plan well.”

“Yeah, yeah, be safe, not sorry, and I’ll keep calm and carry on.”

“I love you honey.”

“I love you mom, bye.”

Thud.

“Oi, those idiots can’t make it,” Katsuki’s annoyed drawl interrupts your moment of reprieve, “That’s why being on time’s so important, yanno.”

“I know,” you snap, grateful he at least has the decency to knock before entering, hesitant question on the tip of your tongue, “What time do you eat dinner?” recalling your mom’s request to Maybe try to get to know Katsuki?

“Whatever time you want, princess. But I’m cooking.”

What a prick.

—

“Good book?” Katsuki grunts from across the kitchen island, chopping carrots faster than you can read words.

“Fine,” you nod, reading, rereading, then rerereading the same sentence.

“Am I distracting ya?”

“Yes.”

“Tch, just tryin’ to make small talk.”

“Bakugou, you literally orgasmed in my passenger seat,” you huff, cheeks burning, stare sharper than his knife, “I think we’re past small talk.”

“Okaaay,” he raises an eyebrow, mindlessly tossing the carrots into the large pot on the stove, “So why’re you reading that book in particular? What draws you to an author?”

Pursing your lips, you glare down at your book, sentences still bleeding into each other, “You don’t care.”

“I don’t,” he shrugs, opening the fridge to grab the thawing chicken breast, “But I do appreciate you buying everything on my grocery list.”

“What are you cooking?”

“Chicken soup,” he smiles faintly, rummaging through a cupboard for a plastic cutting board, “Figured with the storm it’d be nice and cozy.”

“Are we disgusting?” you ask softly, committing your page number to memory as you give up and close your book.

“I’m not disgusting,” he responds immediately, pausing to rinse off his knife, “And you’re not disgusting either.”

“But we’re step-”

“If we’d met before our parents had-”

“Then nothing would’ve happened, because you’re an asshole,” you interrupt, coolness in your tone as you recall how many times he’d ignore you during family dinners, talking over you as your mom offered you an apologetic glance, “The only reason I associate with you is because your dad isn’t an asshole, and my mom deserves to be happy.”

“But, you still want to fuck me,” he smirks.

“For fuck’s sake,” you seethe, standing abruptly, chair scraping the kitchen tile, “Yes, you’re attractive. Yes, you seduced me. Yes, I want to have sex with you. But you know what? I’m not going to, because I’d rather maintain my dignity and self respect than fuck my oniisan whose only redeeming quality is his dirty talk.”

Shit Katsuki winces inwardly as you stalk away, book abandoned on the counter, chicken breast half sliced, broth simmering timidly. He knows he’s inattentive, domineering, selfish; just as he knows why, bubbling resentment familiar, sour, and inescapable when he jolts back to his dad introducing you — to his dad being the best, worst wingman in the history of wingmen. He doubts you remember, but he wasn’t always aloof and cruel: he’d started out cautiously curious, warm lick of attraction already budding in his groin… and then his dad’s relationship with your mom became serious — the mirage, tendril of hope, that they’d fade to the background, snapped. He couldn’t maintain his reserved, almost gentle exterior of wanting, breaking into a fractured portrait of rude, prideful, asshole. It helped that you were adults, that you had excuses to avoid each other, that he could usually exist as an unsavory fragment on the fringe of your thoughts.

“You’re joining us for the holidays.”

The fuck? “Who’s us, and what holidays?” Katsuki scowls, grip on his phone tightening.

“Our family. My girlfriend, her daughter, and you.”

“Our family?” he scoffs, “You’ve been dating for what, six months? And you’re already doin’ holidays together.”

“Katsuki,” impatience growing, “I’m not young anymore. I don’t have the leisure of casual-until-our-connection-peters-out. I don’t want this connection to peter out. Besides, I thought you liked [y/n]?”

“Whatever.”

“You could pretend to be happy for me.”

“I am.”

“Well pretend harder.”

“I’ll be there for your stupid fucking holidays.”

“I love you, Katsuki.”

“Bye, dad.”

“Let’s play Poker,” you declare as you stomp into the kitchen, bottle of vodka in hand, resisting the urge to stick your nose directly into the mouthwatering flavor wafting from the stove to your nostrils.

“Hi to you too,” Katsuki snorts, leaning against the counter, your book cradled in his palms, “Feeling better after your little tantrum?” eyeing your liquor, “Or worse.”

“Did you ask?” you hiss, snatching your book from him, “You probably lost my page.”

“You memorized your page before closing it, actually.”

Unperturbed, you open a drawer, searching for utensils, “I’m hungry.”

“So demanding,” he mutters, lifting the lid off the pot, “It needs five minutes.”

“And I’m feeling so much better after my little tantrum,” you quip, “Thanks for worrying about me, oniisan,” sloshing the bottle of vodka in front of his face, “You’re welcome to join me.”

Eyes narrowing darkly, he ignores you in favor of stirring the soup, satisfied with its aromatic scent.

“Anyway, I said let’s play Poker,” you repeat, “Unless you don’t know how? I can teach you.”

“Princess-”

“Don’t call me princess.”

“Princess, I know how to play Poker,” amused smirk meeting your stubborn glare, “Although I’m sure you’d make a fantastic teacher.”

“Soup, shots, Poker, and I go to sleep wealthier than I was this morning.”

“It’s only been two minutes.”

“You know what hanger is?”

“Your hanger can wait two fuckin’ minutes.”

“Where are the shot glasses?”

“I’ve been busy cooking dinner.”

“And I’ve been busy deciding whether to call a truce or avoid you for the remainder of my life.”

“How civil of you,” he grumbles, lungs pinching at your bitterness, ��Is the truce for the soup?”

“And Poker,” you nod, “And shots,” setting bowls, silverware, and shot glasses beside the stove, “Your money too.”

“You realize Poker isn’t entirely skill based,” he remarks dryly.

“And you realize I’m luckier than most,” you retort, “It’s been five minutes.”

“Tch, serve yourself.”

Heart panging when you serve him too.

Three shots in, and two full games later, you sigh frustrated, sprawled lazy and comfortable on the living room rug, tank top straps loose on your shoulders, flannel pants scrunched around your ankles.

“I’m bored.”

“No, you’re disappointed that I’ve kept my money,” Katsuki chuckles, a new pair of sweatpants hugging his muscular legs, feet tucked neatly under him.

“You haven’t taken any of mine either,” you sniff, toes curling in your fluffy socks, “We’re evenly matched.”

“Technically, I’m a dollar ahead of you,” he grins, waving your dollar with unbearable smugness.

“Technically, that won’t last long.”

“How about,” he raises an eyebrow, “We up the stakes.”

“Calling a truce does not mean playing Strip Poker,” you immediately sit straighter, relaxed pretense dissipating.

“You’re attracted to me,” is his murmured response, his cards set aside, glinting maroon staring pointedly at your lips, ��And when did I say anything about Strip Poker?”

“Our parents are dating,” you whisper, burn of vodka in your throat, watching his body for any sudden movement, “And,” swallowing thickly, “You’re an asshole,’ hyper aware of how you lack your usual venom.

“I’m attracted to you,” he rasps, observing the dilation of your pupils, the goosebumps dotting your forearms, how still you are as you hold your breath, “This afternoon,” vulnerability coiling in his gut, “I don’t regret it. Not for a second.”

“Bakugou,” you’re pleading now, dizziness returning, “I… I think I’m drunk.”

“You’re that much of a lightweight?” he freezes, hardness in his voice, “Are you keeping track?”

“You’re not?” is your hushed answer, daring him to surrender his hand.

To admit just how deeply his feelings cut: to reveal the extent of his lust, the weight of his anger — to reveal if, cowering behind his brashness, he holds any semblance of honest affection for you.

Quietly, he folds, “You’ve had three shots in almost three hours,” as you crawl slowly toward him, “And are only a dollar short,” curve of his jaw startlingly handsome, “So you tell me,” his fingertips grazing the heat of your ear, “Are you drunk?”

“I want you,” leaning into his touch.

“Are. You. Drunk?”

Falling into his crimson haze, the last puzzle piece settling into place.

“No,” confession hanging delicate and deliberate between your closing eyes and his faltering pulse, “I’m not, not at all.”

—

Firm hands guide your hips, support your back, tangle into your hair, as you clamber onto Katsuki’s lap, legs wrapping around his waist, warm mouth pressing moist, unsteady kisses across your collarbones.

“You’re stunning,” he whispers, compliments melting one after another into your skin, “So soft,” one hand cradling your neck, the other snaking down to your ass, “So supple,” pinching your flesh, smacking your thigh, feeling your body jiggle on his lap, soaking in your consequent whimpers.

He follows your lead as you slip a gentle finger under his chin, catching his lips with your own, tongue gliding sweet and teasing along his faint glimmer of a smile.

“Let me taste you,” nearly begging, his request pooling hot between your thighs, “Want you trembling beneath me, want you pulling on my hair, stealin’ my breath as you cum.”

You feel yourself falling as he guides you backward, tank top rising, curve of your tits bouncing in the incandescent light.

“Is it too rough?” he asks, boxing you in as he hovers above you, thick biceps on either side of your head, bulge barely brushing your pelvis, “The rug, is it too rough?”

“Taste me,” is your response, tugging at the collar of his shirt, satisfied hum vibrating in your sternum when he collapses—carefully—onto you, your legs wrapping once again around his waist, undulating erratic and petulant into his hardness, “Said you wanted to taste me, so do it,” groaning at the friction of his chest rubbing against your nipples.

“Gotta let me go,” he chuckles quietly, kneading your thigh with subtle strength, “How m’gonna taste you with you grinding on my cock?” thrusting strongly into your rhythm, smirking at your slack expression, “Make up your mind princess, you cummin’ on my bulge, or my face?”

“Your face,” you gasp, releasing him with an indignant glare, “I’m stealing your breath when I cum, remember?”

Harsh laughter tickles your stomach as Katsuki moves languid and lower, his shirt bundled and tossed behind him, thumbs bringing the waistband of your pants with him, kissing the bare crook of your knee as you help him remove them completely.

“Katsuki,” you whine shyly, pussy clenching as his large palms splay your legs, your folds already glistening.

“Katsuki?” reaching for your nipples, twisting lightly to distract yourself from the intensity of his stare, “Is… am I okay?”

Fuck he growls, “You’re more than okay,” spit dripping warm from his open mouth to your clit, “So fucking sexy when you touch yourself.”

And then he’s lapping at your folds, tongue flat and wet as he memorizes your scent, your texture, when you moan sharply, when you groan loudly, and when he’s accidentally veered off course. Your essence mixes with his spit, trickling slow and filthy between your ass cheeks, fingers pulling at his disheveled hair whenever he bites at your thigh, cocky grin disappearing into your heat as your legs quiver. His rhythm solidifies, inaudible praise vibrating every so often onto your swollen clit, your inner monologue turning to outer dialogue while his tongue flicks relentless and steady.

“Shit, shit, shit,” you babble, thighs tightening around him, heel of your hand pressing on his head, urging his tongue to swirl harder, faster, wetter, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, so close, don’t fucking stop, don’t stop,” bundle of nerves pulsing quickly, quicker, quicker, “I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum,” spine arching, feet flexing, core weeping with concentrated pleasure, his tongue still tireless, still going, “I’m cumming, fuck, fuck, FUCK.”

Sensitivity writhes through your legs as you finally release him, your slick smeared messy and translucent on his chin, his lips, his cheeks, the tip of his nose, feral shadow in his eyes as he wipes his face on the plush of your thighs.

“M’not done with you,” he mutters, fumbling with his sweatpants till they’re pooled on the floor beside you, “On your knees.”

Scrambling to obey, you roll onto your stomach, ass in the air, pussy queefing at the sudden change in position, eyes wide and unfocused as you glance over your shoulder at his pleased expression.

“Good,” he rasps, parting your creamy folds with a crude thumb, “So fucking good for me, such a fucking slut for me,” spitting on your ass, watching his saliva dribble onto the rug, slipping a rough finger into your pussy, “Good.”

“Katsuki,” you mumble, blushing at the schliick of his finger fucking in and out of you.

“Hm, princess?” he coos mockingly, adding another finger as you yelp, curling them at varying angles until he feels you shudder, “Was that it? Right there? You like when oniisan finger fucks you?”

You wail softly, nodding desperately into the rug, rocking back and forth as he cups your pussy, wet sound of your ass hitting his palm filling the living room.

“What’s it gonna be princess, cumming on oniisan’s fingers, or cumming on oniisan’s cock?”

“Your cock,” you whine lowly, blossoming orgasm halted as he immediately withdraws his fingers, body broad and sweaty as he drapes himself over you.

“Clean them,” he demands, cock nudging against your pussy, “Taste how fucking perfect your cunt is.”

The warmth of your tongue caressing his fingers elicits a long groan from him as he grips the base of his cock, voice a flitting murmur in your ear as he slowly, painstakingly presses into you.

“F-fuck,” he stammers, dominant demeanor faltering as your gummy walls envelop his cock, encouraged by your overwhelmed gulps for breath, your nails clinging to the rug’s tufts.

“Oniisan,” you blubber, eager to fit him fully and tightly, greedy for the bump of his cockhead against the entrance of your cervix, veins dragging thick and swollen as he sinks further into your pussy.

“So fucking needy,” Katsuki grunts, straightening up to watch the rest of his cock disappear into your pussy, “My needy bitch,” balls finally brushing sticky against your folds, “Wish you could see how pretty your cunt is, stretched so pretty around my cock,” pulling out slightly, “You can hear it,” shoving in sharply, jostling your body with a filthy squelch, “Can hear it as I stuff your sloppy cunt,” smirking as you gush around him, “My messy cunt, aren’t you princess? My messy fucking cunt, a hole just for your oniisan,” pounding into you at a rapid, steady pace, “Can’t believe how long we waited t’do this, don’t know how I resisted fucking that prim look off your face,” balls providing friction for your clit as they slap heavy and repetitive with the force of his thrusts, “You’re so fucking beautiful, such a fucking whore for me, wearing that lipgloss, letting me jerk off in your car, sitting your gorgeous ass in my lap, kissing me speechless,” working himself into a frenzy, lost in the suction of your pussy, your constant utterances of Oniisan! and Katsuki! and FuckfuckFUCK! “Where should I cum? Where should I cum? Shit!” his voice fraying, unable to decide between painting your silky walls, rippling ass, or flipping you over once more to coat your luscious tits.

“My cunt,” you whimper, “Wanna feel your cum drooling out of my hole, wanna be your cumdump.”

With a riled snarl, Katsuki spills into your pussy, cock throbbing as he continues thrusting shallowly through his orgasm, his cum leaking from your pussy onto the rug, rough fingers doing their best to collect the mess, smearing your ass, your thighs, your back as he claims you.

“My dirty fuckin’ bitch,” he groans, releasing you abruptly, possessive satisfaction welling in his stomach at the sight of you crumpled and oozing his cum, tampering down the insatiable urge to fuck and stuff and fill you again, again, again, your pussy molded to his cock, forever buried in your mess of a hole, plugged indefinitely to the brim with him.

“We’re definitely doing that again,” you murmur weakly, dimly aware of a warm, wet cloth scrubbing gently at your thighs, your skin prickling with the feeling of drying cum, pussy still dribbling intermittently, cheek burning faintly from what you can only presume is rug burn.

A toothy grin enters your foggy field of vision, familiar drawl all too smug as Katsuki’s narrowed eyes meet your satisfied gaze, “Give me thirty minutes princess,” flicking your swollen clit, grinning wider at your breathy, shocked squeal, “Or do you need until morning?”

Tender touches guide you to bed, sheets decidedly not the same color as the ones in your chosen bedroom, mattress dipping as you curl into a solid, grounding warmth, unexpectedly gentle arms embracing you, amber and moss lulling you to sleep.

“I love you,” whispered terrified and longing, voice rough and whittled, ruby eyes glittering melancholy in the dark.

I love you too mouthed softly into his skin in return.

#katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #katsuki smut #bakugou smut #bakugo smut #one shot #modern au #boko no hero academia #my hero academia #my hero academia smut

727 notes · View notes

lvckyyz · 4 months

Note

Hi! Cabin 14, Iris's, is my favorite. I know you've already written headcanons about Iris being a mother and about Iris's kids (which I loved, by the way), but do you think you could write something else? Fun facts, maybe the relationship between themselves, or the relationship with other cabins, or the look of the cabin itself… I don't know! I would love to read any text about them!

friendship

iris’ kids and hades’ kids friendship as neighbors

i don’t know whose idea this was, but building hades’ cabin next to iris’ cabin was just perfect. they’re so different from each other yet they work so well together.

since cabins 13-20 were built, the iris’ children have been trying to keep a good relationship with their neighbors, cabin 13 and 15. they didn’t have any trouble with becoming friends with hypnos’ children, but the hades’ ones were a real challenge.

however, after they managed to get to know each other better, their friendship became one of the prettiest in the whole camp.

they take care of each other. is really normal to see some iris’ kids in cabin 13 in the morning to wake their friends up to have breakfast together. when some hades’ children sleep for too long and lose the time to get breakfast, the iris’ kids would try to cook something for them.

and when the hades’ kids start feeling more comfortable around cabin 14, they would try to impress them and show they care about what they say/do.

they’re always supporting each other; usually cabin 14 is not really into sports, but when they do participate you can be sure that there will be an hades’ child on their side to help them.

cabin 13 constantly having to listen to a speech about healthy sleeping schedules and how important it is to eat well, because cabin 14 gets worried when they don’t care about their wellbeing.

some hades’ kids realized that cabin 14 likes arts and crafts so they’d try to do handmade things for them, like bracelets and cards.

the iris’ kid always judging cabin 13 music taste but still listening to the songs they recommed to them.

cabin 13 liking to prank them by sending skeletons or spirits to their rooms to scare the iris’ kids.

the two of them having sleepovers together with the hypnos’ cabin, and eventually cabin 13 and 15 starting the biggest fight about who is cabin 14’s best friend.

they just have one of the cutest friendship in the world.

⤷ author’s note:

heyy! i also love cabin 14, and i’ve been thinking about their relationship cabin 13 for a long time now. i hope you liked it!💞

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #heros of olympus #pjo hoo toa #pjo imagine #pjo tv show #rick riordan #riordanverse #jason grace #headcanon #cabin 14 #cabin 13 #camp half blood #nico di angelo #iris #hades #luke castellan #clarisse la rue

81 notes · View notes

withacapitalp · 1 year

Text

How To Rehabilitate A Jock Part 9

Part 1 Part Eight Link to ao3 Part 10

Step 8: Make Him Feel Safe

Steve was good at dealing with migraines by now. After almost a year and a half of handling with them, he had mastered the art of looking like he was perfectly fine.

He had developed the ultimate way of casually wearing his sunglasses indoors whenever possible without making it look weird. He was an expert at hiding a grimace behind a bitchy sigh or roll of his eyes. Nancy hadn’t even known Steve was getting migraines until July. He was that good.

So it wasn’t all that shocking when none of the kids noticed that Steve was dealing with a migraine all weekend long.

It was on and off, of course. There were a few blessed hours every day where the tide would recede and Steve could genuinely enjoy getting to watch them have fun. But, for the most part, he had spent the better part of the last two days trying to tread water as the waves of pain came and went.

He didn’t have to pretend anymore. He had done his job for the night. The kids were finally asleep, exhausted after a long night of dancing in the gym and then dancing some more in Steve’s living room after the ball was over.

Steve had surprised them with it. He knew the kids expected to just come back and maybe watch a movie, but he wanted to do something special. It felt wrong to just let the night end, especially when El wasn’t going to get another anytime soon.

They had opened the door to find the couches and tables pushed to the side of the room, and his record collection left out for them to peruse and abuse. The six kids had taken the opportunity to continue being silly and young with voracious glee, turning the music up till Steve wished he was dead and singing along loud enough that he had to step into the kitchen to catch his breath when his vision whited out from the pain.

But he didn’t tell them to stop, or to knock it off. Steve couldn’t bring himself to do anything that might cut into their joy. It was so rare that they just got these moments to be stupid kids, and Steve wasn’t taking a single second of that. The happiness radiating off of them was worth a few more hours of hurting.

Still, Steve really couldn’t pretend to be anything but grateful that they were asleep now, even if he was stuck standing in the middle of the room mildly worried about the conditions they were choosing to sleep in.

Despite the fact that Steve had two guest rooms, a pullout couch in his dad’s office, a day bed in his mom’s craft room, and his parent’s giant king-sized bed, the entire party had decided to pile together in his bed.

El was on the far side curled up facing the open door. Steve left her just enough room to see into the hallway, the same way he did when he put her to bed at the cabin. There wasn’t a nightlight in his room for her, but leaving the lamp at the end of the hallway turned on was enough residual light to make her feel safe enough to sleep.

Mike was at her side, turned so they were pressed back to back. Will was snuggled up close to him, nearly on top of his best friend, and Lucas was on the other side of Will, half hanging off the bed. At first Steve was worried he would slip all the way off, but his ankle was hooked with Mike’s and it seemed like he was going to be fine. He was snoring loud enough to seem okay anyway.

Dustin and Max were lying on the other end of the bed. Dustin had taken up the entire foot of the bed, on his stomach starfished out with limbs in every direction. Max had somehow positioned herself in the middle of all of them, using Dustin’s back as a pillow and kicking Will’s knees to make more room for herself.

They looked comfortable in the most uncomfortable of circumstances, like they enjoyed being smushed together with almost no room for themselves. As he watched over them all for a second, Steve realized with a little jolt that he couldn’t remember the last time he had tried to squeeze into a single bed with his best friends.

The last time had to have been with Tommy and Carol. Back when they were TommySteveandCarol. Tommy Hagan, Steve Harrington, Carol Holiday, only together initially because of their last names. That was back before Carol’s mom had remarried and she had become Carol Perkins. Their elementary school days when Carol had worn her hair in two ponytails with pink ribbons, and Tommy’s favorite color was blue because Steve’s favorite color was blue.

When the two of them stayed over, which happened at least twice a week, they had always slept three ducks in a row. Tommy by the window, Steve in the middle because he was warmest, and Carol by the door. Tommy and Steve would sit up at night and wait to hear his dad’s snoring, because right after it started there would always be a quiet series of knocks on the wall from Carol. She liked to tap her fingers on the other side while she walked towards the bedroom, making them try to guess what melody she was playing. Sometimes they would go straight to sleep, sometimes they would stay up all night laughing and acting stupid, staying quiet to make sure they didn’t wake his parents up.

The feeling in his chest began to spread, little icy tendrils poking at his heart, making Steve inexplicably homesick despite literally standing in the middle of his house.

He did remember the last night they had slept together in his bed.

It was the night before their own Snowball. Tommy and Carol had kissed for the first time at the ball, and that night when they had gone back to his house after the dance, Tommy had gone to Carol instead of Carol coming to them.

After that it was always Tommy leaving, usually giving Steve a lecherous smirk or some comment that felt uncomfortable at best. He knew they weren’t having sex or anything, Tommy told him everything and Steve knew that they hadn’t done anything like that until the night of Carol’s sweet sixteen.

But things were different after that. It had been TommySteveandCarol. Then it became Steve and TommyandCarol. Now it was just Steve.

Steve usually didn’t miss them, so it was almost a shock when a pulse of longing shot through his heart from those cold feelers all over his body, beating in perfect time with the painful rhythm banging against his skull.

Tommy and Carol had grown into strangers with faces of the people he loved, and he was happy to be free of pretending he agreed with the cruel things they did. But there were times when Steve would watch the kids and be reminded of the way things used to be, the person he was back when he was little.

It was hard to remember that kid, hard to feel like he had ever been that person.

Steve rubbed at his eyes, putting pressure against his temples to stem the headache and forcing the homesick ache back down into his stomach where it belonged. Tommy and Carol didn’t miss him, they made that perfectly clear, so missing them was just wasted energy.

What was the point in hurting himself over people who had apparently never cared?

He had friends who cared now. He had Hellfire, even though they didn’t seem to understand him, and he had the kids, even though he would never put his problems on them. He had Nancy and Jonathan, even though he knew they didn’t care about him half as much as he cared about them. He had better people to feel bad about. Wasn’t that lucky?

See, that was the problem with always being the person who cared more. Inevitably you were reminded you would never be as important to the people you loved. In the end all you ever ended up being to them was…bullshit.

“Steve?”

Steve shook his head to clear away the thoughts, looking back down at the bed. Dustin was rubbing at one eye, yawning loudly as he stayed lying down.

“What are you doing?” He mumbled, his lisp making the words almost impossible to decipher. Steve crept closer, hoping to keep the kid from actually getting up.

“Lost in thought, that’s all, Dust,” Steve explained, Dustin nodded and burrowed his face back into the blankets.

“C’n you close the blinds? Don’t wanna see the pool. ‘S creepy,” Dustin requested.

Steve froze and his breath stopped, stuttered in a gasp. It felt like the room was suddenly bathed in haunting green light, and Steve could practically hear the filter humming in his bones.

All at once, his head didn’t just hurt, it was in agony. Steve turned his face away from the bed just in case any of the kids woke up, sucking in a huge breath and slowly letting it out. Logically Steve was completely aware that there was nothing wrong with the pool. It was a completely normal pool.

But in his mind all he could see was Barbara Holland’s dead body, floating endlessly in a sea of red.

No. Not real. Not here. It didn’t belong in the front of his mind. It belonged on the shelf. Steve shoved that thought up onto the shelf, hiding it behind every box he could think of until he could breathe again.

It was fine. Everything was fine. There was nothing wrong anymore. There wasn’t a monster, or a dead girl in his pool. All he had to do was draw the blinds and then go downstairs. He could sit down there with the lights all turned off for a while, and that might make it stop. It usually didn’t work, but maybe it would this time.

But first things first- blinds. Steve didn’t even remember opening the blinds. He always kept them closed now. Maybe he needed to do one more sweep of the house. If the blinds were open, that means someone might’ve come in, and they could just be waiting for him to leave the room.

Was that paranoid?

Did Steve have any right to not be paranoid anymore?

A quiet knock echoed through the house, stopping Steve in his tracks. The pattern was familiar, something that had been etched into his head through rote memorization. Two knocks. Pause. One knock. Pause. Three slow knocks.

Steve would know that pattern anywhere.

Unfortunately, that quiet knock wasn’t quite quiet enough.

“Whazat?” Lucas muttered, barely lifting his head and slowly starting to blink awake. Steve abandoned the blinds, flitting over to the bed and gently pressing the boy’s head back to the mattress.

“I’ve got it, go back to sleep,” Steve murmured, trying his best to sound reassuring while also not raising his voice loud enough to wake any of the other kids. That was two in a row, not a good sign.

Somehow he succeeded and Lucas went back to bed with another sleepy mumble, mushing his face even further into Will’s shoulder.

It was truly an adorable sight, but Steve didn’t have time to appreciate it. He had to get downstairs to the door.

Because the person on the other side would knock one more time, and then he would start breaking the door down assuming there was an emergency.

There was only one person who would be knocking like that this late at night.

“Hey Hop,” Steve said as he opened the door just before Hopper could bring his fist up again.

He kept his voice pitched low, partially to keep the kids from waking up, partially because every sound was echoing in his head in a way that made Steve want to sway in place. They were far away from the bedroom, but those kids had ultrasonic hearing at the worst possible moments.

The last thing Steve needed was for them to get a second wind. They would wanna put the stereo back on, and Steve would have to commit suicide.

“Hey kid,” Hopper replied, looking uncharacteristically sheepish. He was rubbing at the back of his neck, and he had developed a weird fascination with the porch light, “I was driving home from work, just going past the neighborhood, and I, uh, thought I should check to make sure that you got them all home safe from the party,”

After Nancy and Jonathan dropped them off, Steve had stood next to the phone and watched each kid call their parents to let them know they got back to Steve’s house okay. El had been the first one to call, and she and Hopper had talked for an entire twenty minutes.

But he could fill in the blank- Hopper wanted to come over just in case El wanted to be home. That would be fine, that was where Hop could keep an eye on her and make sure she was safe.

It was funny. Despite how often Hopper tried to claim he wasn’t El’s father, he sure acted a lot like her dad.

“Home safe, huh?” Steve said, doing his best to keep from smirking right in the police chief’s face. He leaned against the door jamb, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows and waiting for Hopper to crack. Just a little. Hopper was a hardass with a heart of gold, and moments like these always showed off how much that heart really shined, “You know, I could’ve sworn you had already driven home, seeing as El called the cabin earlier, and not your office,”

“Shut up,” The chief sighed, running his fingers through his rapidly thinning hair, “She’s okay?”

“Already asleep. Come see for yourself,” Steve replied, pushing himself out of the doorway and waving a hand to beckon the man inside. He heard Hopper shut the door behind them both, throwing the house back into beautiful, comfortable darkness.

The tension in Steve’s shoulders melted away, and he sighed in relief. Every step came with a pulsing beat of pain knocking against his skull, and nausea was starting to slither around in his stomach. Steve climbed the stairs laboriously, each step another challenge to overcome.

Luckily Hopper didn’t seem to notice Steve’s struggles, too preoccupied with his worry over El and how she was handling her very first dance. That was good. Hopper was distracted, and if Steve played his cards right, he would have the man out long before his migraine got bad enough that it would be noticeable.

The low light from the lamp was enough to navigate the upstairs hallway, and Steve easily slipped through his open bedroom door, going to close blinds as Hopper quietly approached the chaotic spread of kids on his bed. The weird fluttering in his chest settled once the curtains were drawn, the pool hidden from view where it couldn’t haunt his children.

And Steve turned around and saw Hopper with El.

There was a far too fond look on the other man's face, a kind of fatherly affection that twisted Steve’s stomach in a way that had nothing to do with his headache. He watched as Hopper gently put his hand on top of El’s head, brushing her curls away from her face and humming softly as she sleepily pushed into his touch.

A painful rush of envy shot through Steve, stabbing directly into his left eyelid and making starbursts dance along his vision. He shut his eyes, tightly squeezing them and biting on the tip of his tongue as his hand automatically came up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.

God damn it.

Over the years, Steve had gotten good at hiding how jealous he got. He could brush off any weird little moments behind a well placed joke or by pretending like it had never happened.

It was probably his worst trait. Tommy used to like to joke about it, making fun of how possessive Steve was over things that were ‘his’. Before they had come up with that stupid King nickname, he and Carol both used to joke that Steve was like a dragon. He wanted the whole world to be his horde.

They had it wrong.

No, Steve had never wanted the whole world. Just the things he had never had gotten to have. It was a bad little habit- to always be wanting, always hoping, always getting disappointed- but Steve couldn’t figure out how to break it.

Of course it would have to rear its ugly head again now, when he was defenseless against the bitterness coursing through his veins.

It was disgusting to be jealous of a little girl, wasn’t it? Especially a little girl who had spent the majority of her life without any kind of soft or loving touch at all. El wasn’t like Steve, who was just unsatisfied with everything that life had given him despite having so much more than most people did. She had been through hell and back. Literal, actual, hell.

She deserved a dad like Hopper more than any person on the planet, and Steve genuinely was happy that they had managed to grow into the perfect little family of two.

It just also kind of hurt to have to watch them be that perfect family.

He took in a short shaking breath, hating the way his entire body was starting to vibrate. Shaking was always a bad sign, another marker that he was quickly racing towards the point of no return. Something about the migraine had accelerated, and he was going downhill fast.

He needed to get Hopper out. Now.

“You alright?”

Steve forced his hands to his side and opened his eyes, suddenly extremely happy that he had shut the curtains. There was barely any light in the room, just a little hint drifting in from the hallway.

There was almost no chance Hopper could see the way his eyes were watering from all the way across the dark room.

“Yeah. One hundred percent,” Steve forced out, hoping that Hopper wouldn’t hear the pain that was starting to constrict his throat, making his words choked and cut off. “We should get out of here. Before they wake up,”

Hopper nodded once, leaning down to press a soft kiss to El’s cheek before he straightened up. He walked out, and Steve obediently followed, rapidly blinking. His heart was starting to beat at an uncomfortable click once more, and the anxiety gathering in his chest was not helping the growing pressure behind his eyes.

Steve put a hand against the wall for support as they walked back towards the stairs, deliriously thinking about tapping out a song the way Carol would have.

It was okay. It would all be fine. This was almost over.

He just needed to get Hopper out the door, and then he wouldn’t even try to get to the couch or anything. The second the door was locked, Steve could just sink right onto the floor in the foyer. After a few hours of lying there curled up on the cool stone, he’d recover enough to crawl into the living room.

It wasn’t an ideal plan, but it was something, and Steve had to cling onto that as bile began to rise in his throat.

He made it halfway down the stairs before everything began to fall apart.

Steve probably would have pulled it off, but the perfect ripple of vertigo tore through him just as he tried to place his foot onto the fourth step down. Steve missed it, nearly toppling over, only staying upright due to the deathgrip he had on the railing. He held onto it with both hands, his knuckles all completely white as the world tipped first to one side, then the other.

A whimper managed to slip past his lips as the dam broke, and Steve cursed himself, gritting his teeth against the humiliating burn behind his eyes.

“Woah. Kid?” Hopper’s voice floated in from somewhere to his left, and Steve dragged in an excruciating breath.

“‘M okay,” Steve murmured, keeping his eyes shut as another wave washed over him. His shoulders hunched harshly inward and his back began to bow as he curled up, trying to shield himself from pain that was coming from inside.

“I’m okay,” Steve whispered again, mostly to himself, “‘M okay. I’m okay,”

He continued to repeat the words over and over, loathing himself for how pathetic he sounded, but unable to stop. The headache was cresting, reaching a peak, and when moments like these came, the only thing Steve could do was try to keep breathing.

Steve slowly lowered himself onto the carpeted stair, letting his hands slide down the slats of the handrail. He rested his head against one of the beams, continuing to tell himself that he was okay, the words barely carrying as he started to run out of breath.

“Steve?” Hopper asked. That was not good. Hopper never called him ‘Steve’. It was always ‘Kid’ or ‘Harrington’ or ‘Smartass’. ‘Steve’ was reserved for moments when he fucked up, or moments when Hop thought Steve was close to losing it.

He could guess which of those two this moment was.

“Just a headache,” Steve managed to say, his voice embarrassingly thick. He sounded like a third grader who had fallen off his bike and skinned both knees.

He was supposed to be better than this, supposed to be stronger than this. Steve tried to swallow down the lump in his throat, speaking again.

“It’ll go away. I just need a minute,” He gasped. God, he was such a bad liar.

A minute? Please. A hundred years wouldn’t be enough to fix what was fucked inside of him.

No, Steve was going to need a hell of a lot more than just a minute. He was going to need a magical pill that cured migraines, at least one full night of sleep, and something to make him forget everything that had happened to them in the last two years. It just felt too big right now, and he needed some way of making things shrink again.

But, he wasn’t going to get any of those things, so a minute was all he asked for.

“Okay,” Hopper said, trailing off. Steve heard the stairs creak, and he felt a heavy weight sit on the step next to him.

It was already humiliating enough that he was going to end up having a little meltdown over a stupid headache, having Hopper witness it would just make the whole experience a thousand times worse.

“You don’t have to stay. It’ll stop. It always does. I just need a minute,” Steve said, trying to get Hopper to leave, his voice still far too small and starting to tremble. His entire body was shaking again.

That was the worst part.

The rest of it, Steve could probably power through if he needed to. Yeah, his head hurt, and yeah, he was dizzy, but he had managed to fight through those things before. Adrenaline was a hell of a drug, and Steve was used to fighting handicapped.

But, if something went wrong right now, he would be useless. His hands were shaking too hard to hold his bat properly, and it definitely wasn’t possible to get a good swing in when his whole body was quivering like a leaf in a strong breeze.

Steve was useless if the monsters came right now. He couldn’t protect them. Hell, he couldn’t even protect himself when he was like this.

“Kid-”

“Jesus, Hopper!” Steve snapped harshly, using the only shield he had in moments like these, “Would you just leave me alone?! I’ll be fine in a minute,”

Instant quiet. Steve froze, a deer in the headlights of a car he was driving himself. Revulsion filled his mouth, acidic and bitter. He was shaking even worse now, but that wasn’t because of his migraine.

Why was he like this? Hopper was just trying to do the right thing, and instead of being grateful, Steve had yelled at him. Why couldn’t he just do the right thing for once?

“Steve-”

“It’s fine. I deal with these by myself all the time. It’s not a big deal. I’m sorry I yelled. I shouldn’t’ve done that. You can go, really. It’s fine, it’s-” Steve’s panicked mumbling was cut short by a hiss as his mouth involuntarily opened in a silent scream as the next pulse of pain slid through his left eye socket. Steve was grateful he was facing away from Hopper as the tears finally began, resenting himself for how weak he was being.

The presence next to him shifted and Steve could just barely hear Hopper starting to walk down the stairs as the blood rushed in his ears. He let out a soft sigh, feeling utterly spent and run completely ragged.

Steve was happy Hopper was leaving. He was. This would be easier if he didn’t have to pretend he was okay. He had told Hopper to go, this was what he had wanted.

So why did he feel so lost? Why was there an odd sense of betrayal gripping his throat and making every breath hitch?

Steve had never wanted any of them to see him like this. He had just practically screamed at Hopper to leave. He swore to himself that he would never let anyone see him this broken.

And now, no one would. Hopper was gone. Steve was alone again. Which is exactly what he asked for.

It was just…shocking, that was all. Hopper seemed like the type who would fight, the kind of guy would force Steve to let him stay and help. Not the kind who would pick up and go the second he was told to.

But maybe that stubbornness was reserved for the kids. The kids, and maybe Nancy, and Jonathan, and Joyce. They were all connected to Hop in some way after all.

Who was Steve really? In the grand scheme of things, Steve could admit he wasn’t anyone. The babysitter? The guy with the big empty house that was perfect for hiding El when she wanted to get out of the cabin? The kid screaming in his face to go?

He wasn’t anything special, no one that really mattered. Hopper was probably happy Steve told him to go. Who wanted to deal with a meltdown from a person who was practically a stranger after all? It was probably so awkward to watch Steve fall apart and feel like he was obligated to try to help. It was definitely a relief when Steve said he didn’t have to say.

That was good. That had to be good. Steve had to be happy Hopper left. Because if he wasn’t, then he might really start crying, and he didn’t want to do that. He would wake the kids.

Steve was so lost drowning in his thoughts that he didn’t hear the stairs creaking again. He didn’t feel the person sitting next to him, but he did feel the cool, almost cold thing falling on his neck.

What was that?!

“Just me, kid. Just me,” Hopper softly murmured when Steve jumped at the sensation, his head snapping so hard to the side that they both heard a sharp crack. Hop held his hands out in front of him, staying still and letting Steve see he wasn’t an enemy.

Steve blinked, then burst into action, roughly scrubbing at his cheeks. He had no idea why he was trying to hide that he was crying when they both obviously knew he was, but Steve tried to hide anyway.

He was good at hiding. He wasn’t good at whatever this was.

Steve half turned away again, sitting straight on the steps and letting his head hang heavy between his knees. His hair was in his face, any styling completely wrecked by the way he had been running his hands through it all night long.

He definitely looked pathetic. Probably like a wet rat.

“I don’t- what are you doing?” Steve finally managed to whisper, keeping his eyes down.

Hopper paused, studying Steve for a second before carefully reaching over, silently adjusting the cool washcloth he had put on Steve so it was fully covering the back of his neck.

It felt like heaven on his overheated skin, a soft refreshing sensation that gave Steve something to focus on besides how bad he felt. When the washcloth was positioned how he wanted it, Hopper moved his hand slightly lower, pressing gently, but firmly, into the space between Steve’s shoulder blade.

Steve couldn’t help the long slow breath that escaped his lungs, leaning back into the comforting touch ever so slightly, letting his mind think only about that single point of contact, and not on the way his head was trying to crack in half.

But…no. No, this wasn’t right. Steve wasn’t supposed to have this. He wasn’t supposed to let himself act like this. He wasn’t some kid. He was supposed to be the adult, the one in charge who took care of everyone else.

“You don’t- it’s-” Steve stammered, trying to get his brain to put together the words it wanted to say.

“Shhhhhh,” Hopper said, letting his hand slowly rub up and down Steve’s back, “Just breathe, okay? You’re gonna be alright, kid. You’ll be alright.”

Any other night Steve would have argued more, would have forced all his jagged edges to fit into a box. He would’ve found more room on his shelf. But he was too tired to keep going, too in pain to pretend. Three days of this had worn away any fight left in his body.

If it was going to be anyone, Hopper was the safest option to hand over responsibility to.

So, Steve let someone else stay steady, drifting and feeling the tension in his body leak away bit by bit the longer they stayed where they were. Every breath was a challenge, but they came easier and easier the longer Steve sat there. He had no idea how much time has passed, but it felt like forever.

But Hopper never wavered, never gave any indication that he was getting tired of holding Steve together. He didn’t even yawn, and Steve knew he had to be tired after a full day of work.

And, when Steve finally straightened up and stretched showing that he was okay to stand up, he still stayed.

Hopper kept his hand on Steve’s back as he directed them towards the kitchen without words. He flicked the light on, immediately dimming them to almost nonexistent and depositing Steve in the wooden chair closest to the stove. He walked towards the cabinet with the mugs, muttering softly to himself. As he began to root around and search, Steve took a quick scan of his own body.

He wasn’t hot anymore, and the worst of the pain had passed. There were still little aftershocks, moments where the pain came again, but it was duller, less spread out.

“Water?” Hopper asked, turning and holding two identical blue cups aloft.

“Coffee,” Steve replied.

“No. You are going to bed after this,” Hopper stated in a very final tone, giving Steve a no nonsense look.

“The caffeine helps with the migraine,” Steve explained, propping his head up with his fist and blinking slowly. Aftershocks always came with fatigue, and Steve was pretty sure he could sleep for a thousand years at this point, “Coffee puts me to sleep anyway,”

“Coffee puts me to sleep,” Hopper repeated with an incredulous laugh.

He was shaking his head in disbelief, but he still grabbed the coffee can and a filter. Steve was going to explain that coffee had always put him to sleep, it was a trick his Nonna had learned when he was five, but a long loud yawn interrupted the words before they could come to fruition.

“Do you have some kind of medication you take for these headaches?” Hopper asked as he flipped the switch to start the machine, “I looked in the bathroom but I couldn’t find anything.”

“Migraines,” Steve amended. He could handle any old headache. These were too big to pretend through, “I take aspirin, but it only helps sometimes.”

“I mean actual medication. Something a doctor prescribed,” Hopper said as he sat down across from Steve.

He was watching him carefully, and any thought Steve had of lying went out the window. He was bad at lying at the best of times, and everyone in their weird little group seemed to have a radar for when Steve was trying to fib.

Time to find a “creative” way to tell the truth.

“My parents, um, they didn’t think it was necessary,” Steve said as casually as he could, shrugging and hoping that could be the end of it.

His father had been silent when they had been called home to pick up their son from the hospital with his second concussion. Well, silent until they got home.

The first time around, his mother had been frantic, and his father’s ire had been pushed to the side. This time? Steve was pretty sure his dad yelled for four hours straight. And when he was done, Steve’s mom had taken a turn.

They were disappointed he had gotten into another fight. They were angry he had automatically gone for his fists instead of his words. They were confused as to why he would do this to them again, and they only got angrier the more Steve avoided answering their questions.

It wasn’t like he could tell them why he was even at the Byers house that night.

Worst of all, his parents were also absolutely sure he was just trying to get pain meds.

He wasn’t exactly positive where they had gotten the idea that he was an addict, but they were firmly convinced of it, and there was nothing he could say to change his parents’ minds. His father had overturned his room and bathroom searching, only getting even more infuriated when he couldn’t find any evidence of his son’s drug habit.

Steve had been forced to tell them over a dozen times that Billy was the one who escalated things, that he had only been defending himself by the end, but it wasn’t the end that mattered to them. It was the beginning.

It was the beginning that mattered because Steve was the one who threw the first punch. Steve was the one who had asked for a prescription for pain meds.

Nevermind that the punch was thrown after Billy had held Lucas against a wall and threatened his life. Nevermind that Steve had only asked for the medication when the doctor had told him the migraines might never go away.

His father had eventually decided that if Steve wanted to be stupid enough to pick fights that he knew he would lose, then he was just going to have to deal with the consequences. If the consequence was getting headaches that made him feel like his head was being cut open by a chainsaw, then that was Steve’s own fault. He was overexaggerating anyway. Maybe the next time he would make a better decision.

Richard Harrington was not going to spend his hard earned money enabling Steve’s violent tendencies, or his apparent drug problem.

But, judging by the look on Hopper’s face, he didn’t agree with the older Harrington’s particular brand of tough love.

“Jesus,” Hopper said, quietly swearing to himself. He rubbed at his temple, looking completely fed up, “Okay. I’m going to take you to the doctor sometime this week, and we’ll sort that out. Alright?”

“You don’t have to. It’s not that big of a deal,” Steve tried to protest, wracking his brains for a good excuse. His dad would flip a lid if he found any drugs in the house. It wasn’t like he or Mom were home much anymore, but the possibility was making Steve’s stomach do cartwheels.

“I- um- my parents really don’t want me hooked on drugs…”

God it sounded stupid. Worse, it made him sound like he really was an addict. Steve had never done more than smoke marijuana, and even that had stopped after his first brush with the Upside Down, but he was stuttering and shaking like a junkie afraid of the next fix.

“Steve? I wasn’t asking,” Hopper said, crushing any argument with a single look, “We’ll ask Dr. Owens, he’s good for stuff like this, and you can keep the meds at the cabin if you’re really worried. How often are you getting these head- uh migraines?”

Two or three times a week. Sometimes more.

“I dunno, not that often.,” Steve said, shrugging again. He could hear the coffee machine beginning to brew, and the best scent in the world began to fill his nose, “They only got bad after my fight with Billy,”

“I should’ve run that kid in,” Hopper said, mostly to himself. Steve huffed out a little laugh, standing up slowly and walking towards the half full fresh pot.

“Yeah, turns out having a plate smashed against your skull isn’t all that good for you,” He joked, keeping his head pointed towards the coffee and not Hopper. It was the kind of joke that the kids would laugh at, the kind that would make Nancy roll her eyes and get Jonathan to quickly change the subject.

Hopper didn’t do any of that. Hopper didn’t respond at all, and when Steve turned around holding two steaming mugs, the man was staring him down. Steve chewed on the inside of his lip and slipped back into his seat, holding his coffee in both hands and taking one long slow sip.

It was bitter. It was kind of gross.

It was glorious.

“It’s not a big deal, I usually don’t get them if I get enough sleep,” Steve muttered when the silence had stretched past its breaking point. He knew it was a mistake the second the words were out of his mouth.

“And how often are you getting enough sleep?” Hopper wondered in a terribly fake casual tone, taking a slow sip of his own drink.

“Don’t I have the right to remain silent?” Steve wondered, trying to find a joking way to get out of this. They both knew the actual answer, it was written in the haunted look in Steve’s eyes and the dark circles sitting just underneath them.

But. Appearances, appearances.

“If you were under arrest, yes,” Hopper answered, putting his cup down, “But since you aren’t, I think you should tell me.”

“When’s the last time you got enough sleep?” Steve shot back, needing to argue. He was still on the defensive, and his walls were coming up at lightning speed. He had his moment of weakness, he had the single minute he needed to put himself together again, and now that it was over Steve didn’t want to continue being weak.

Hopper, sensing that Steve was shutting him out, backed down.

“Alright, well, you’ll get some tonight,” He said, knowing that was the closest they would come to a middle ground. He picked up his cup again, and Steve took a sip from his own, “Anything new? Anything interesting happening in the life of Steve Harrington?”

Was it an awkward little segway? Yes.

Was Steve taking it? Abso-fricken-lutely.

“I joined a club at school,” Steve offered.

“That’s good. A little normalcy. Getting back into sports?” Hopper asked.

“No, I'm still on medical. They’re worried about a second impact something, cause I got two concussions really close to each other? I’m not gonna be allowed to even play in practice until late January, early February. Billy’s captain now, ” Steve explained, his relief at not having to talk about his sleeping habits starting to dim.

It hurt, not being able to be with his team. This was the first year that they had a real shot at the championship in years, and Steve was benched. His senior year and he was being kept from playing at all, and probably didn’t have a shot even if he was cleared. There was a lot of secrecy around what had happened between Steve and Billy, but ultimately Steve was the one with a concussion and Billy wasn’t.

To their coach, all that mattered was who could play.

It stung like all hell to have to watch Billy act like a captain when he had zero interest in anyone but himself. Steve just had to sit on the sidelines and stare while Billy ran the team through endless suicides and took sick pleasure in making the Freshman run until they threw up. Half of their reserves had already quit, and there was a rumor that there would be almost no underclassmen trying out next year. Even Tommy seemed like he was getting tired of Billy’s sadistic tendencies.

And Steve couldn’t do a damn thing.

It was maddening. Steve was their captain, not Billy. He had taken a lot of time to get to know his team, to be able to tell when they needed to be pushed and when they needed a break, and Billy was destroying all of that.

“It’s probably for the best,” Steve said, unable to hide how jaded he was, “I should be focusing on school and stuff,”

“No, that sucks. I’m sorry kid,” Hopper said, making Steve pause, “Those are your guys. It’d kill me to have to watch someone else take my place, especially if I knew it was someone who didn’t deserve it.”

When he had told his father that he wasn’t allowed to play, he had said it was Steve’s own damn fault. When he told his mother that the coach had replaced him, she had said this was a chance for him to focus on getting into college.

Hopper just understood, somehow instantly hitting the heart of what was bothering Steve most.

“So what club did you join?” Hopper wondered, acting like he hadn’t just perfectly summed up one of the problems Steve had been struggling with all month.

“Hellfire,” Steve responded.

“Hellfire?” Hopper repeated, raising a brow, “What the he- What’s Hellfire?”

Steve blushed, staring down at the table. It wasn’t like Hopper didn’t know about DnD, but Steve already knew how he was going to take the news.

“It’s a dungeons and dragons club,” Steve admitted, watching Hoppers immediate over the top reaction

“There’s no escape. I swear to god, no one is safe from this game. It’s like a cult,” Hopper groaned, laying his head flat on the table in front of him. Steve snorted, breaking his first smile since the stairs, and Hopper raised his head up at the noise.

“No, don’t act like I’m overexaggerating,” He said. His tone was defensive, but he was grinning when he saw that Steve had finally cracked a grin, “First the boys, then Max and El, now you. Next thing I know Joyce will be calling me over to put together an offense.”

“Write a campaign,” Steve corrected, taking a sip of his coffee.

“It’s a cult,” Hopper growled again in his normal angry tone. Steve put his mug down, biting the corner of his lip to try and hold back how big his stupid smile was trying to grow.

“Oh yeah, a spooky little cult for the nerdiest game ever invented. We’re gonna sacrifice the head cheerleader under the full moon next month,” Steve said, channeling his inner Eddie to add the perfect flair of dramatics and wiggling his fingers for emphasis, “Our leader told us that it’ll give us special powers,”

“And who is this leader of yours? Albert Einstein?” Hopper wondered

“No. Eddie Munson,”

Hopper choked when he heard Steve’s answer, nearly slamming his cup down.

“Eddie Munson…the drug dealer?” Hopper said in a demanding tone, giving Steve one of his patented ‘Dad’ looks. It was kind of the thing he normally reserved for El. Steve rolled his eyes, ignoring the soft warmth starting to bloom in his chest.

“He sells drugs? I had no clue,” Steve said in an extremely exaggerated tone, letting his sarcasm take hold and overwhelm any part of him that was reading too much into the interaction, “We’re just playing a game Hopper, not doing a deal.”

“Look, just be careful around Munson, alright?” Hopper said, knocking his knuckles against the wood of the table.

“Careful?” Steve raised a brow.

Sure, Eddie was a little strange and sometimes overwhelming, but Hopper was talking like Eddie was dangerous. The nod he gave Steve was grave, and he seemed genuinely worried.

“Hop, Eddie’s like a human puppy,” Steve said with a soft laugh.

He thought about the way Eddie had jumped at the chance to welcome Steve into his group, and the soft sound of his voice as he read out loud for hours just to help Steve understand. Steve’s mind jumped to the joy on the kids’ faces as they got to come into the game, and the gentle voice Eddie used when he called him ‘Sweetheart’ and how he had apologized the second he realized he had hurt Steve.

Dangerous?

Steve had never met a person who felt safer to him.

It was instinctive, just something he knew. Like how he knew he had to run back into that house that night, the way he knew he had to put himself in front of the kids. Something in him just knew Eddie wouldn’t hurt him.

“He’s really nice. He even invited me to come to a show on Tuesday,” Steve said instead of any of that, hating the way his cheeks were heating up. Had it gotten hot in the house all of a sudden?

“A show,” Hopper drawled, pursing his lips. His eyes were starting to twinkle in a dangerous way, and Steve needed to get as far away from this conversation as possible.

“You know I’m sooooo tired. I think I should probably be hitting the hay now. Growing boy and all that. Time to couch it,” Steve stammered, making a show of stretching and yawning. Hopper chuckled and grabbed their mugs bringing them to the sink.

“Oh no I will be the one taking the couch tonight,” Hopper corrected him, walking over and putting his hand back on Steve’s shoulder, pushing him softly towards the stairs.

“Where exactly am I supposed to go?” Steve protested, looking behind him.

“There’s other beds upstairs,” Hopper pointed out, “I’ll keep watch or whatever crazy plan you had instead of actually getting the sleep you need,”

“But-”

“Nope. Upstairs. Hup two. You don’t want to be tired on Tuesday.” Hopper ordered, nudging Steve until he started to climb. Steve grumbled to himself, but when he got to the step he had fallen on before, he paused.

“Hop?”

Hopper popped his head out from the living room. Steve dropped his eyes to the ground, but didn’t let his embarrassment stop him from doing the right thing.

“Thanks,” Steve managed to choke out, immediately turning and practically flying up the rest of the stairs. He heard Hopper laughing behind him the whole way.

Tag List: @paopaupaus @zerokrox-blog @surferboyzaza @whatever-is-a-good-name @minjintea @addelyin @5ammi90 @hagbaby420 @shinekocreator @bornonthesavage @starxlark @electrick-marionnett @resident-gay-bitch @ash-a-confused-enby @classicdinosaurdeathpose @valon-whomsttf @rotten-lil-goblin @thereindeerlady @love-ya-kash @kerlypride @sparkle-fiend @thefreakandthehair @flowercrowngods @milf-harrington @sadcanadianwinter @gothbat99 @hotcocoaharrington @henderdads @lightwoodbanethings @colorful565 @h0n3y-dw @craterbbox @sourw0lfs @lesliiieeeee @bidisastersworld @tinynebula @ravnlinn @bonescaro @mexmatch @cottagecoredreams @joruni @hellykelly @maegan1116 @farewell-wanderlvst @desertfern @due-to-the-fact-that-im-a-slut @anythingforourmoonyedits @eerielake @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sidekick-hero

462 notes · View notes