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im-poe-dameron · 5 months

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THE HEART OF A SHIP

a/n: this fic is a result of wine and rewatching the force awakens. honestly my brain always short circuits whenever oscar isaac comes on screen. so i had to do something. it was meant to be small, but i literally couldn't stop writing so it became this. it's an idea that has been lingering in my head for awhile, i just had to let it simmer for a bit. and now it's fully cooked.

summary: you and poe were inevitable. two asteroids set on a course to crash into one another. a celestial event that would happen whether you wanted it or not. you just never expected it to happen so soon.

word count: 3.4k+

pairing: poe dameron x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, alcohol consumption, love confessions sort of??, poe being romantic as fuck, p in v sex, guided masturbation, biting, sex in an x-wing, sex in a public place, unedited but we live and die by the fucking pen.

Intoxicating.

That was the only way you’d describe him. The only word that ever did him justice. He was the human embodiment of an Antakarian Fire Dancer. You got hammered on it one year after two glasses of the amber liquid, proceeding to forget half the night yet eager for more. Nothing could describe the man before you better. It simply wouldn’t do him justice. He was the itch beneath your skin that you could never satisfy, the reason you stood there now.

A glass of that amber liquid in both hands.

He’d disappeared from the celebration. An hour in from congratulations and happy faces, you watched him leave when no one was looking. And you did nothing to stop it. You knew he wasn’t one to relish in the joys of battle well done. Always intent on focusing towards the next thing—the next fight. It’s how you knew Leia would make him General, why he was so good at leading, at keeping the people he loved safe.

“Leaving without saying goodbye is rude, you know.”

He jumped slightly where he stood, his back to you, a holopad in one hand and a tool in the other. Of course he’d be here, fixing his X-Wing in silence. His own little ritual. You couldn’t count how many times you found him here after a fight, finalizing the last few checks before he caught some sleep. If he slept at all. Poe always seemed to be on the move no matter the time of day—a constant in the Resistance even when everyone else seemed to have lost faith.

“I said goodbye,” he joked, head turning slightly to see you come around, the holopad getting traded for a glass. “Just couldn’t see you in the crowd.”

You smiled. “You’re a shit liar Dameron.”

“I know.” He took a sip, winced, and laughed—the sound practically lighting you up inside. Igniting you like a fucking lightsaber.

“What’s the damage report?”

“Nothing I can’t fix.” He glanced back at the scraped up hunk of metal he loved more than anything. The amount of care he put into keeping her going was admirable—if a little insane at times.

But he was right. The damage was nothing he couldn’t fix.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” The smile still played on your lips, eyes alight and aiming to start something you wanted him to finish.

Poe caught onto it quicker than you expected. He could see it before you followed him out of the celebration. A promise that lingered in the air from months of longing looks and timid words. Something inevitable and real. So much so that you were willing to bet everything that he felt exactly the same way you did.

You wanted each other. That was clear from day one. But doing something about it became difficult when war was a constant and lives were put in peril on the daily. Poe didn’t want to leave you broken beyond repair if he never made it back. Just as you didn’t want to do the same to him.

The fucked up thing about it though was Poe would mourn you either way. He’d live his life half a man if you never graced him with your presence again. If you weren’t around to smile at him from across rooms and laugh at his shitty jokes. He was pretty sure he’d already started. Being away from you was like a poison he constantly had to take, a pain he didn’t want to endure. And if it were up to him…he’d choose you every time.

No matter the consequences.

“You ever been in an X-Wing before?” he asked, trying to see past the bits and pieces of the ache that hurt you both.

You rolled your eyes and Poe felt his chest tighten. “You know I haven’t. I’m not pilot material.”

“Sounds like bantha shit to me starlight.”

The name you’d heard so many times before echoed differently to you now. You wanted to break through its meaning and find the promise within. The antidote to this fucking ache that stuck to your chest. You wanted to rip it out and grind it up. You wanted to finally take what you desired, relish in the feel of calling him yours without the pain of knowing what came next. The both of you were trying to save your emotions—protect yourselves—but there was no use.

Poe had found a home in your heart and he was there to stay.

“Come with me.”

When it came to him you had no choice but to listen, following dutifully behind in a haze of want. He climbed up the ladder on the side of his ship, plopping down into the seat with the grace of a pilot who’d done it a million times before. The movement now muscle memory at this point. Whereas you clambered up—buzzed on one drink—nearly falling into the cockpit. He grabbed your arm at the last minute, helping you slowly maneuver your way in, until you were perched on this lap.

The seat was barely big enough to fit him let alone you as well. And yet…you’d never felt more comfortable. He pulled you back slightly, hands pressed to your hips, chest snugly placed against your back. With every intake and exhale of breath, you felt him move. Felt his body shift. If you focused, you knew you would be able to feel his heartbeat. The rhythmic thump you’d grown accustomed to.

“Now—“ He precariously balanced his glass on the dash. “Your hands go here.” Covering your hands with his, he showed you how he’d position himself if he were flying. The cold touch of the buttons and knobs beneath your fingers sent electricity up your spine. “These are to shoot.” Another shift. “And this is to aim.”

You sucked in a breath. “Seems complicated.”

“Not at all.” His fingers slid up your arm, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You tried to remember how to take a single breath. “You just have to understand how the ship works. How she moves, what she likes.”

Your breath hitched, body leaning into him more, and finally you felt it. The wall holding both of you back crumbled to the ground. All that remained now was the will to finally do something about it. So you let his hands guide you, watching in anticipation as they moved to your own body, pressing your palms into your stomach.

“There’s always a heart of a ship,” he murmured, moving your hand down. “A pilot guiding the way.”

“Poe…”

"After all, we've got to guide the ship back home." A soft whimper left your lips, your nails digging into the meat of your thighs to contain yourself. If the cockpit of his ship wasn't so fucking small, you had no doubt you'd be spread on his lap, lips connected to his already.

He grinned, his lips brushing across the back of your neck. “For me…” He stopped right above the hem of your pants, your fingers aching to finally delve down further. “That’s always been you.”

The alcohol had all but burned out of your system from how warm you were. His touch guiding yours seemed to have lit something in the base of your stomach, causing it to spread outwards. And you needed more. Your head fell back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed your hand beneath the coarse fabric of your pants. The feeling of him cupping your mound—using you all the while—sent a jolt across your body; a soft moan falling free past your lips.

“Maker starlight,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire. “You’re so fucking wet.”

He wasn't wrong. You could feel yourself dripping the longer he spoke, his words affecting you more than you anticipated. Ever since you first met, Poe always held a power over you. A reminder that no matter how many times you tried to rid yourself of him, no matter what you did...he would remain burned into your soul. He'd be part of you until you drew your final breath in this galaxy.

"It's cause of you," you gasped, your fingers and his sliding through your slick. Running along the lips of your cunt, skimming past your clit entirely. "Oh—"

The scrape of his teeth along your neck nearly did you in entirely, the plea hanging off the tip of your tongue in anticipation. He was toying with you. Playing you like a fucking instrument and listening to your melody. Drowning in the sounds you made—the ones he dreamed of. If there was a life after this, a fated place he could go to rest, he'd want it to be here. Crammed into this cockpit with you on his lap, the feel of you sliding through his fingers and the echo of your voice breathing his name sweeter than the alcohol you had handed him earlier.

Poe would do whatever he could to make this moment last just a minute longer.

"Need you."

He kissed the junction where your neck and shoulder met, fingers still guiding yours through your own heat. "I know you do starlight. But you're gonna cum for me like this first." Your sweet little gasp ripped him a part. He had to squeeze his eyes shut to stave off nearly coming in his pants. "Let me guide you."

You nodded and spread your legs as wide as they could go in the cramped space. It wasn't very far, nor did it give him space to do what he really wanted to do to you, but it would have to do for now. The noise of the celebration in the distance only grew louder as people consumed more alcohol, the joy bleeding into the air. But you couldn't give a shit at that moment about why they were happy, or even what occurred before today.

You were lost to the depths that Poe pulled you into.

Heat spilled between your fingertips, a sticky mess starting between the two of you, but that seemed to only drive him forward. He pressed down, sliding your fingers into you with ease, his delving in right beside you—stretching you in a way that had your back arching. Wrapped his arm around your waist, he kept you still, his chin set on your shoulder and chest heaving with controlled breaths. A way for him to keep the last bits of his sanity as he felt your walls clamp around his fingers.

"Fuck baby," he grit between clenched teeth. "You really did need me huh?"

Nodding, you felt him press even further, fingers searching for something.

"You're gonna make a mess on me." Pumping his hand, he felt your body shudder—your mouth falling open as a ragged moan echoed in the ship. "Gonna take me so easily. I'll slip right in."

You burned from the inside out. A searing heat pulling tight across your body until you could nothing but fall into it. There was no fighting against that aching bliss, no running from what you wanted, what you dreamed of. Poe was intent on breaking you apart right there on his lap, and he'd watch with a smile on his face as you spilled yourself between the rough pads of his fingers. As you made a fucking mess on his lap.

"C'mon baby," he muttered, curling his fingers forward and nudging against something blinding. You cried out, hand grasping at his wrist to either pull him away or keep him right there. You couldn't tell at this point. And he smiled. "Is that it?" Rubbing against the spongy patch along your walls, he felt your entire body lock up, a whimpered sob breaking from your chest. "Yeah. That's fucking it."

You tried to warn him, his name a garbled echo of nonsensical letters on your tongue. But he already knew. His hand sped up, practically pushing your fingers out of the way as he gave you everything you wanted. Poe was certain that he wanted this more than you, that deep down he needed to know that you came because of him. That he was capable of turning you into a sobbing mess.

The echo of his pained grunt was loud in your ears, his hips pressing up into you to relieve the pressure of need he felt, and that's what did it. The knowledge that he was as gone as you were. That he had always wanted you.

Your walls fluttered around his fingers, a splintered moan falling past your parted lips as the pleasure spilled over. And he buried his face into your neck, a broken sound of his own muffled by your warm skin. He fought against finishing, biting into your shoulder as he worked you through your release. Adamant to make this last for you—to drag you to the Maker and back with a sated smile on your face.

Eventually you couldn't take it anymore, pleasure bleeding into pain, and you dragged his hand away. A breathless sigh of his name shooting right to his cock.

Without knowing it you had broken him for anyone else. Obliterated his ability to ever see someone the way he saw you.

You and your beauty. Your ability to render him speechless, breathless, and at your fucking mercy. For so long he was the ship lost in space with no sense of direction to lead him back to something real, a purpose. But then you settled into his heart. You became his pilot, guiding him through the never-ending void of space. You kept him afloat even as the weight of the galaxy threatened to drag him down, happy to watch him crash and burn in as so many others had done before.

"That was new," you giggled, hand reaching back to run through his hair.

He smiled, his heart twisting in his chest and fingers still covered in your slick coming to grip at your hips. "To think..." Pressing your ass down against his hard cock, he felt the breath hitch in your chest. "We could have been doing this the whole time."

"W-What a loss," you breathed, that now familiar all encompassing need filling your veins once more.

As if he knew your body so well already, he began to pull at your pants, helping you strip yourself to the best of your ability. The soft clinking of his belt echoed loudly in the cockpit and for a moment you were sure that people in the distance could hear it. But that thought quickly left your mind the second you felt the hot skin of his cock pressing against your lower back—his precum wet and sticky now smeared against your skin. Saliva filled your mouth, the ache pulling at your chest, clawing its way to the surface.

You didn't simply want him. That was too small of a word to explain the feeling in your body. You breathed for him. You lived for him. Poe was the blood that streamed in your veins, the reason your heart beat the way it did. Because it beat for him.

"Say you want this," he grunted, grinding against your skin, his fingers digging in harder than before. Until blood nearly pricked at the surface.

"Yes." The word was out of your mouth before he could even finish speaking. "Maker, I've wanted this for so long."

A growl hit your ears, his nose pressed into your back as he lifted you slightly, and you felt like you would rip to shreds if he didn't hurry. The head of his cock pressed against your entrance, sliding into you with slippery ease. And you pressed back against him, desperate to feel him sink into you fully. To be stretched out around his cock. Poe choked on his breath when your warm heat encompassed his throbbing length so suddenly, nearly throwing him off the edge entirely.

"Fuck starlight. You're gonna have to give me a second."

Your lips curled up into a grin. "Yes, General."

For a moment Poe could only process the breaths he took, the word entering his already blank mind. It wasn't until a searing heat shot up his spine at the sound of his title leaving your lips, did he fully understand. His hips pushed up into you, forcing him to sink just a bit deeper. You clutched at the side of the ship, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. The position had him pressing right along your walls, the underside of his cock grinding blissfully against you.

"I used to think you had no idea." He pushed you up slightly until his cock was halfway out and he glanced down, moaning at the sight of him covered in your slick. Only to pull you back down hard. Your choked cry was like music to his ears. "Didn't know what you do to me. How my whole fucking body belonged to you."

"Poe—"

He repeated the movement, smiling at the noises that came free. "But I was wrong."

A pressure quickly built in the base of your stomach, threatening to destroy you. And you chased it. Meeting his thrusts, you fucked yourself on his cock, hands pressed to the dash in front of you and back arched to find the perfect angle that made your toes curl in your boots. Ragged breaths filled the space, accompanied by broken moans and stunted grunts. Each one louder than the last as you both took and took and took, until the very edge of bliss mounted in your bodies.

He gripped the back of your neck, hand fisting at your hair as he pulled you back roughly against his chest. And you fell into it. Whining his name when he grinded up slowly, your walls clamped down around his cock. You could barely see straight through the burn of tears that glazed your eyes, a fucked out expression painted perfectly on your face. And Poe wished he could see you from where he was, catch a glimpse of the way your eyes rolled back, neck on display for him to bite.

"You know exactly what you do to me, starlight." His mouth fell open in a silent moan when his balls drew up painfully, cock throbbing along your walls. He quickly shoved his hand into your slick, fingers locating your clit with ease.

"Maker—" You heard him bite out your name like a prayer he couldn't get out fast enough. A plea for you to give him everything you had, everything that made you who you were. "I'm— Fuck I-I'm—"

"Yes," he groaned, using his other hand to cup your chin and pull your lips to his. Finally kissing you after years of dreaming it would happen. "Fucking give it to me baby."

His tongue licked into your mouth, swallowing every sound you made with ease. The feel of his lips against yours shoved you towards your release. A muffled cry of his name echoing in his mouth as your body went taut, thighs quaking as you gushed on his cock. He choked, mouth open and panting against yours, following you instantly and spilling into your cunt—filling you until you were sure it was dripping out of you and gathering at the base of him.

"Yours," he sighed against your lips, thumb running along the top of your cheek. "'M yours."

The twist of your heart brought you down from your high, your eyes fluttering open as he stared at your kiss swollen lips, the way his spit smeared along your bottom one. You expected him to take it back once he slipped out of you. Surely this was nothing but a dream, a moment in time that may never happen again. But in his eyes you saw devotion. You saw the inevitable future that was always bound to happen.

"Me too."

He smiled, nose brushing against yours. "Guess we're stuck with each other starlight."

"That doesn't sound too bad to me, General."

He tsked under his breath, fingers coming to grip your chin—brown eyes flashing up to meet your gaze. "You're causing trouble."

You grinned, grinding on his softened cock that was still buried deep in you. "And if I am?"

The feeling of his cock twitching inside you, slowly growing hard with interest. "Hands on the controls baby." He nipped at your bottom lip. "You know what to do."

A soft flutter filled your stomach as you followed his direction. Taking the lead in a dance that you were now familiar with. With Poe everything came with ease, as if you'd gone through it with him hundreds of times over. And guiding him home was just the beginning.

#poe dameron x f!reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron smut #poe dameron #my writing

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rose-tea-and-strawberries · 1 year

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One of my favourite tropes in fics where Fem!Yuu/Reader is dating a Dorm Leader is that the whole dorm collectively think of Yuu/Reader as a sort of second in command.

Like the second she/you enters a dorm, she’s/you’re given the princess treatment because that’s the Dorm Leader’s important person (and because they really like her/you as well) - and I bet that the majority of the dorm have cute little puppy crushes on her/you as well. Whenever there’s a problem involving their leader or they can’t tell the leader for some reason, the first person they think of is Yuu/you (hah).

I especially love it when Yuu/Reader is the Persephone to Ignihyde’s Hades. These technology obsessed shut-ins practically worship the ground she walks on. Whenever they’re left to their own devices, Ignihyde is as dark and dreary as the Underworld but the moment she enters it’s like they’re being graced by some sort of celestial being.

I also love it when Yuu/Reader basically has full command of the entire deck of card soldiers or herd of beastmen or basically an army of powerful magic users from any dorm who are more than reader to be her/your personal body guards

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst yuu #fem yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #fem reader

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thebibliosphere · 4 months

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Re-reading Ch28 of Phangs to double-check some details (just as well because I completely fucked up Vlad's room in the next book.) and not to toot my own horn or anything, but it's so fucking funny from an ADHD perspective.

Nathan just walked into a veritable treasure trove of Vlad's psyche.

He's walking around in awe, like, whoa, is that a hand-painted celestial map on the ceiling? Gods, Vlad's so talented. I bet there's nothing he can't do. Oh, a pianoforte! He's musical! Wow, look at all these books. He's so smart. I love how smart he is. I want to fuck his brains out. Oh! Look! A telescope!

As opposed to Vlad, whose internal monologue is: don't look at the mess, don't look at the mess, don't look at the mess. Okay, just act normal. How... how do I do that? Oh gods please don't think I'm weird. Please like me.

I know I wrote him, but he's in such a mood sometimes, lol.

#hunger pangs meta #I know they're my characters and I wrote them but #*chef kiss*#my poor AuDHD vampire son #just a cluster fuck of self-doubt and insecurity #hiding behind a mask of rakish flirtation that falls apart the minute someone sincere gets their hands on him #it's Nathan #Nathan gets his hands on him #eventually

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hermesmyplatonicbeloved · 5 months

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Rick Riordian has many, many crimes to answer for but I think one of the most petty ones is the fact that he never let Percy fight with a trident.

Like there's so many ways he could've incorporated it:

In tlt Ares curses Riptide so that it would fail him in his times of most need - which is a serious weakness. But the curse is also limited to Riptide. Percy should've gone, "okay bet," and gotten a secondary backup weapon when he got back to Camp. Like a curse-free trident. Stick the middle finger up to Ares twice by beating him and his curse.

In ttc/botl it's established by Luke/the enemy demigods that Percy's one fighting weakness is his inability to use long ranged weapons like a bow and arrow (honestly wtf was Chiron thinking trying to teach a son of Poseidon, a fish for all intents and purposes, to use a bow and arrow aka a weapon of the sky?) Like no. Come on. Guess what else is a long ranged weapon, that's actually associated with water/Poseidon? A trident. You couldn't have taught him that, Chiron? Hmm?

By tlo it's established that Percy is on close terms with not one but TWO master forgers. Tyson and Beckendorf. You're telling me neither of them would've made Percy a top tier celestial bronze trident if he asked? Or even if he didn't ask and they were just curious to see what Percy could do with it?

And then in HoO we could've had someone inspect Percy's blade to make sure its up to speck for protocol (or maybe Neptune comes around, curious about Percy and sees it), and then realize that Percy is walking around with a weapon that is guaranteed to fail him when he needs it most so they make him choose a secondary weapon: a trident.

Or even when Percy retrieves the imperial gold weapons from the bottom of the bay in SoN after freeing Thanatos. Percy should've just found a trident, swing it skillfully a few times and gone "huh. Neat." And decided to keep it.

Like I know the movies were complete shit, but even I have to admit that they did 3 things right. 1. "This is a pen." 2. "Don't walk on my roof." And 3. GIVING PERCY A WATER TRIDENT TO FIGHT WITH!!!

The lost opportunities!!!! Rick Riordian you better hope I never show up to an event you're at-

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calicough · 7 months

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leave your heart alone until it beats for me – hazel callahan

— life is filled with uncertainties, with you being hazel's biggest.

pining. hazel is whipped but doesn't want to do anything about it.

hazel was aware about your existence even before the fight club started. you were the person who usually sits at the third row in every class that you both share. not too far from the board that every important information taught by the teacher would be drowned out by the noises of your classmates, but not too close to the board either that you'd need to pretend to be interested in the teacher's life story. you were the person that she once caught napping on the bleachers that one time she decided to watch the cheerleaders' train, purely out of boredom because she doesn't want to go home yet. you were the person who borrowed one of her pens but never returned because as soon as the class ended, you were already out the door. but she's not complaining because she has a lot of pens (that was her favorite pen and she is too shy to ask for it back).

when you entered through the gymnasium doors, hazel was surprised. she did not expect you to join the fight club because... well... you're you. you are the living embodiment of a celestial being in her eyes. a doll who came to life and is somehow in rockbridge falls. to her, you were the most beautiful girl to ever walk in the hallways of this hellhole. every time she saw you leaning by your locker chatting with isabel and brittany, you were somehow bathed in sunlight even though there was little to no natural light entering the school's halls. to her, your radiating beauty is so strong that the bathroom stall that you were in was somehow illuminating (your phone's flashlight was accidentally turned on that time). she didn't want to see your face painted in black and blue, and she definitely didn't want to be the one causing those nasty bruises.

she, however, did paint your face black and blue. her face was also in the same state. "twinsies!" you exclaimed with a huge grin on your swollen face and blood dripping down your nose, which hazel found extremely endearing. unbeknownst to her, the rest of the fight club took notice of this and made it their life's mission to pair you up in everything. from training to studying to even going to the bathroom. because of this, the two of you became close. pj and brittany had an ongoing bet on who will confess first: pj is betting on hazel while brittany is betting on you. but days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and eventually, the both of them forgot about their bet.

you and hazel are good friends at this point but she knows deep down that she just doesn't want to be friends with you. she wants to be more. she wants you to look at her like how she looks at you. she wants you to notice the quick longing glances that she would take whenever you are together and the way her hand would lightly graze yours whenever you're walking beside each other. she wants you to return her pen and jokingly steal it from her because that's what girlfriends do. she had contemplated on confessing the feelings that she harbors for you but every time she would find herself typing the words she had always wanted to say, she would delete and forget about her phone until it rings again.

life is filled with uncertainties, but to hazel, you are her biggest uncertainty. she doesn't want to get rid of her friendship with yours. heck, she's not even sure if you like her the same way. do you even like her? are you just being nice to her? is she even worth your time? thoughts like these plague her mind every time she's in bed. she doesn't want to force you to like her, no. that's the last thing that she wants. she wants you to like her for who she is and to fall for her naturally.

until that time comes, hazel will wait for you until your heart beats for her.

waaa ^^ this is my first entry on this account. thank you for reading and i hope you guys enjoyed it! feedback is always appreciated :]

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan drabbles #hazel bottoms #bottoms (2023)

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little-lost-lamb · 1 month

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The Sting of Envy Pt. 2

CW: GN!MC, hurt/comfort, angst, occult practice, fluff, Demons Being Overall Taller Than Humans On Average, Mention of Israeli food, and - of course - jealousy. Please let me know if there is anything I didn't think to add!

<- Part 1

I want to thank everyone for their support of my first part! I've been out of the writing game for a long time, and it really helped motive me to continue!

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Beelzebub

Beelzebub tells anyone who asks that his favorite food is cheeseburgers, but this is not quite true. His favorite food is your cooking. So when you keep serving him warm, fresh-baked bread and crispy spinach salad topped with handpicked flowers and nuts and creamy, piping hot wild mushroom risotto and seconds and thirds and FOURTHS, he is in the Celestial Realm. He supposed the menu was carefully thought out, showcasing ingredients locally in season for the spring. He loved human realm food. It reminded him of you, and not just because it’s native the human realm - human cuisine had the capacity for both the sinful and the divine. Just like you. And so, the meal had him nearly moaning in ecstasy against his spoon.

“This is incredible, MC.” Solomon says, meticulously scooping a perfectly balanced bite of rice, cheese, mushroom, and chive. “This is even better than the risotto we had in that little place in Rome. What was that place called?” Solomon looks at you and thoroughly cleans the risotto off his spoon with his mouth. You laugh.

“Solomon, no, no way! That stuff was next level!”

Solomon shrugs before going in for another bite off his plate. “I’m telling you, yours is better.”

“When were you in Rome?” Lucifer inquires, cocking his head with interest. “When did you have the time?”

“Couple Tuesdays ago, I think.” Solomon muffled between bites while Barbatos shot him a look that told him to chew before speaking. Solomon shrugged it off. “Sometimes when we feel like eating out, we’ll go wherever the cuisine strikes our fancy. MC takes me to this Israeli restaurant in New York City about every other week!”

Beel’s brow furrows as he goes in for another bite. It sounds like before you left, what you and he used to do together. Schedule permitting, you were always down to take him wherever his stomach led him. Hell’s Kitchen for the third time that week? Sure! That brand new place with the deep fried vampire bats on sticks? You bet! They restocked flame-charred bone flavored ice cream at the stand down the street from RAD? You might even be willing to skip Chaos Theory to go with him!

Your foodie dates were one of his all-time favorite things you did together.

“Pfft. You know I can’t do teleportations that big or that frequently yet. You take me.”

Like how Beel would take you all over town, farther if they had some spare time, to try all that the demon realm had to offer. You couldn’t always eat it, you didn’t always like it, but you were always down to try demon cuisine. Try new things in general. He loved that about you.

“Agree to disagree.” Solomon leaned a little closer to you. “I just appreciate you escorting me on so many dates.”

You shrug nonchalantly. “I’m just in it for the falafel.”

Solomon chuckles and smiles fondly at you. He gently tucks a pesky piece of hair behind your ear, keeping it from flying into your mouth with your bread. “Try the hamin next time. I think you’ll like it.”

The heat rose in Beel cheeks, and he subtly sighed out some of his frustration through his nostrils. He glances briefly over to Belphie, and they communicate something to each other with their eyes. Finally, Beel puts his spoon down and Belphie shrugs, picking up another bite with his own.

“I’m done.” Beel says softly.

Not full. Never full. Done.

After everyone has finished with ample time for conversation, you shuffle back to the kitchen to get the desserts. You had prepared an assortment of fresh berries and cream with honey cakes.

“Beel! Can you help me carry this?” You shout, and you lean casually against the counter to wait for him.

“Carry what?” Beel walks in to help and looks around for the heavy item only for his eyes to fall on the light-weight desserts. “Just…need some extra hands?” Beel asks as he reaches for the dish, but you stop him with a hand on his.

“Are you okay? You didn’t eat much.” You look up into his face, recognizing sadness in it.

“I ate 5 or 6 plates.”

You raise an eyebrow. Beel sighs, gently reaching for your hand and holding it firmly in his own to ground himself.

“You don’t…like the food here more than in the devildom, do you?”

Your brows furrow with concern. “You…know I do. Most of it won’t kill me.”

Beelzebub shakes his head quickly. “My fault, bad question. New question: do you enjoy…” Beel’s voice cracks ever so slightly. “Do you like eating with Solomon more? You know…than me?”

Yours eyes widen in horror and your heart cracks. All you can think to do is throw yourself into his enormous frame. You bury your face into the soft fabric of the shirt before turning your head to speak, still resting your cheek against his quickly-thumping chest.

“You’re upset because you and I go out on foodie tours and stuff too, right? It’s our thing.”

“It’s our thing.” Beel answered, wrapping his arms around you firmly. You feel the point of his chin rest against the top of your head.

“And it will always be our thing. Solomon and I eat out so often out of necessity. I don’t always have the energy to focus on planning and making our meals, and the man can’t cook, Beel. Then the human realm's food will kill me.”

You got a smile out of Beel on that one.

“But with you, we go out, and we shove things I once couldn’t even conceptualize down my gullet. You show me fun and fantastical foods I wouldn’t try on my own. That I couldn’t try. We don’t have that stuff here. It’s an experience. You are an experience. And you’re my favorite.”

You lean back just a little, separating only enough to see a wide grin and misty eyes. You reach over and stick your clean finger into the bowl of cream before smearing it playfully on Beel’s lips.

“Oops!” You exclaim, smearing it on his lips. You raise up and squish the cream against Beels lips with your own. You hear a dreamy sigh from him before he pulls away and licks his lips. A giddy giggle escapes his creamy mouth. He reaches for the cream too, except he takes a thick glob and smears it from your cheek, across your mouth, and down your neck.

“Oops.”

He starts with your neck.

Belphegor

They said to make himself at home, so he will, thank you very much. Now where was MC’s bed?

He passes the bathroom and opens the knob to a door nearby, figuring this was probably it, and he pushes it open with the subtle crack of the doorframe. He is immediately punished with a wave of Solomon’s scent - a musky mix of exotic spice and incense smoke. Yours was thickly mixed into the sorcerers, the fusion of smells emanating from one bed in the center of the room.

No.

Belphie suddenly feels the irritated flick of his tail and the weight of his horns that have appeared against his will on his body. Shove it down, Belphegor.

He peels himself from the glue that binds his feet to the doorway and steps hesitantly into the room. The room reeks of Solomon, and not just from his scent. Glistening suncatchers whimsically dangle from the ceiling, one wall is adorned with old, dusty books from floor to ceiling, magical trinkets rest precariously on the edges of drawers, nightstands, and any other surface, and plants large and small sprout from the pots scattered around the room. There are countless empty mugs he has forgotten to bring back down to the kitchen shoved onto any previously vacant surface.

Belphie’s attention moves from one piece of junk to the next before focusing on the bed itself. It looked to be what the humans call a “full sized” bed, big enough for two humans to fit, though Belphie figures it’s only as big as he and Beel’s beds back home. Must be a tight squeeze for two. The fluffy blankets are crumpled disproportionately to one side while the other side is draped primarily with just the sheet. He presses a palm into the mattress and it sinks less readily than Belphie would like in a nest. He pictured the two of you picking it out together.

“Now, MC,” Solomon would say in his smarmy tone, “It’s best to have a mattress that is somewhat firm. It deters one from oversleeping, and it will be good for your spine in the long run. Trust me, I know from experience that you’ll wish you had taken better care of your bones when you’re old.”

Belphie groans at the thought before dipping down into the side that smells most like you. Your scent is thick and fresh, as if you had slept there just last night. Belphie snarls and immediately jumps up, the propulsion of the springs hastening his movement.

I bet he doesn’t even take the time to nestle into their pillows Belphie thought to himself as he glared daggers at the side that smelled more like Solomon. To inhale their pheromones and feel enveloped their scent and appreciate it.

Since you left, it wasn’t uncommon to catch even Lucifer resting in your bed on occasion. They were all guilty of it. It still retained your scent, and the brothers found that comforting late at night when they cannot escape their respective longing for you. Recently, though, the aroma has begun dissipating, a combination of time and the brothers’ own smells erasing your scent clinging to the fabrics. Belphie had been excited to take a few moments at least to dive into your sheets and smother himself with your scent. He could bring it home with him and savor it for at least a week if he didn’t wash his jacket. He could cling to the hoodie he wears tonight during his slumber and pretend you were still there with him, nestled against his body and in his bed. But it turns out the scent of your bed was contaminated.

Fortunately for his sanity, he didn’t smell certain hormones or fluids or anything to indicate any funny business happened between the two of you in these sheets. That’s for the best. If Belphie had been hit with the scent of lust mixed with the scents of the two of you, he thinks he would have vomited directly on your comforter.

“Did you find my bed? I knew you’d go looking for it.” You tease, clutching the rail as you stare innocently at him from the stairs.

“Uhm. Yeah. I found it.” Belphie turns to face you from the room, and his eyes motion to the bed in front of him. He makes no attempt to hide the displeasure on his face. Surprise answers it on your own.

“Nope, that’s Solomon’s room.”

“I can smell you, MC.” Belphie’s eyes narrow as he replies, pointing to the side piled with blankets, “You sleep on the left.”

“I hang out on the left.” You say, climbing the last few steps and joining him in Solomon’s room, “but I don’t sleep here, not usually anyway. I pass out sometimes, but we just watch shows and play games here a lot.”

You point casually at the TV shoddily hung on Solomon’s wall opposite the bed. Wires poke haphazardly out the bottom and trail their way to a couple of consoles buried in junk beneath.

“There’s this cartoon I’ve been obsessed with recently that makes me think of you, actually. It’s about these kids who are cute little animals, and they go to camp on a magical island. It’s so soft and cozy and comforting…I keep falling asleep when I turn it on. I wish I could watch it with you. Maybe next time I’m in the demon realm, we can set it up in the attic.”

You pap on his bicep and signal him to follow you, flowing from Belphie’s side, out Solomon’s door, and to a second door Belphie had yet to open.

Oh.

As you push the door in, a current of your sweet smell crashes like a wave over Belphie’s face. Your scent is like an intoxicating mixture of coffee, books, whiskey, and sugar all mixed together. You smell like home. A contented smile forms and he makes his way to you, careful to seal Solomon’s scent away with the bedroom door on his way out.

You’re suddenly thrusted into a brief whirlwind of confusion as you’re grappled by Belphie, knocked off your feet and plopped down unharmed into the comfort of your bed. Your bed is the opposite of Solomon's: soft, fluffy, warm, and oozing with you smells. Belphie raises himself up to gaze at you lovingly before playfully nuzzling his face into your neck and inhaling deeply. He releases his breath with a satisfied sigh and melts himself into you.

“Much better.”

He peppers your cheek with soft, sleepy kisses until he has you a grinning, giggling mess.

“Let’s take a nap until dinner is ready. Barbatos can finish the rest.”

Barbatos

This was not part of Barbatos’ plan, but he could reassess and regroup. After all, this was only temporary. He would assure that.

Step 1: Serve Lord Diavolo to the best of his ability while he brings about the integration and unity of the three realms.

Step 2: Assure the swift and successful coronation of Lord Diavolo. King Diavolo.

Step 3: With King Diavolo’s rule solidified and the King’s word absolute, any dissension against angels or humans in the devildom would not be tolerated. The streets of the demon realm would be safer - safer for you to reside in the devildom permanently.

Step 4: With the realm made a better place for you, you live with him, in his care, for the rest of your days. He thought perhaps an emerald in the ring would be best, accented with black diamonds. He had not yet decided whether silver or gold would look best for your band, but he was more than happy to admire you for as long as it took to decide what best suited your coloration.

For now, however, his face remains unwaveringly pleasant as he silently makes note of the dusty floorboards and spattered kitchen counters. He knows Solomon. Solomon doesn’t clean. Not to Barbatos’ standards for your living accommodations, anyway. He watches silently for a few moments as you work alone in your kitchen, smaller than he thought you deserved to have access to. It would have bothered him that Solomon offered no help had Barbatos not also known he would have rendered each and every item on the menu inedible. All your hard work ruined.

You see him because he allows you to see him. While his presence would ordinarily be welcomed, today your cheeks flush in shame.

“Listen, I know it’s not the cleanest.” You shyly return your attention to the onion you skillfully chop against the cutting board. “I haven’t really had the time to deep clean, not with lessons and work and preparing for the party and…” You trail off, exhaustion lacing your voice. Your eyes seem misty.

“Please, MC, allow me to help. Do the mushrooms still need to be sliced?” Without waiting for an answer, Barbatos swiftly saunters over, scoops the mushrooms off the counter beside you, and drops them gently on the counter in front of himself. One mushroom considers bouncing off the counter, but decides it wouldn’t dare under Barbatos’ watchful eye. You realize your face must betray your emotion.

“Barbatos, I’m fine, really. It’s just the onion.” You point to the onion with your chef knife, and you plead, “you are my guest. I won’t make you work.”

“I am your friend.” He responds, his face focused on the task in front of him as he reaches for the utility knife in your set. He begins quickly and expertly chopping the mushrooms into perfect, uniform slices. “And you are overwhelmed. Your home is dirty because Solomon does not help you with cleaning like he should, yes?”

You remain silent for a moment, considering if you should out Solomon for not doing his share. Barbatos does not allow you to refute it.

“It has been centuries,” Barbatos interjects your thoughts before you can argue. “but Solomon was once royalty. He is independent now, yes, but he never learned how to clean as he should. I fear he is slipping back into the comfort of being taken care of without taking care of you in return.”

You look up at him, and for a moment, you think you see the flash of a scowl before his expression is once again carefully moderated. You had seen it because he had allowed you to see it.

“And of course,” he continued, “you must be doing all of the cooking as well. If he had any part in it, you would certainly be dead by this point.” He finally glanced us at you, his lip curling ever so slightly into a playful smirk.

The joke catches you off guard and you honk out a laugh.

“One time,” you say through your laughter “I caught him trying to clean the bathroom with bleach and ammonium. Unreal. The man is a master alchemist, and yet he accidentally makes mustard gas in the toilet!”

Barbatos laughs earnestly along and shakes his head. He finishes the last mushroom with a flourish and plops the pieces into a bowl, ready for their future use. He turns around and leans his tall frame against your small counter, assessing your space for a few moments.

“If I were Solomon,” he mused, almost to himself, “I would ensure your accommodations were immaculate. I would prepare you healthy, delicious meals. Perhaps I would allow you to join me in the kitchen, if only for us to spend the time together. And I see your garden needs attention. I would gladly serve you tea made from those rose petals there once I had finished with the pruning.” He speaks wistfully.

You chuckle. “It does sound nice to be taken care of every once in a while. What with the brothers and Solomon, I can be spread pretty thin. Not a lot left to take care of myself, you know?”

“Perhaps one day, I’ll have the pleasure of doing it for you.” Your eyes widen and your cheeks flush. You look up at him, and he gives you a knowing glance. You hated when he did this. You always wonder: is he teasing, or does he know?

“I have not looked into your future if that is what you are wondering…though I admit, I have considered it once or twice.” You turn to face him fully, the surprise evident on your face. Barbatos chuckles and looks you right in the eyes. “It would ruin the sweet surprise. It will happen because I will make it happen. Your current arrangement is temporary, I assure you.”

Before you can comprehend what is happening, the soft fabric of his gloves are against your cheeks, the warmth of his hands permeating through. He leans in slowly and lovingly plants a petal-soft kiss on the tip of your nose. He holds himself there a moment. You hold your breath until he lets go.

“Now, what do we do with these mushrooms?”

Diavolo

“Yeah, I’ve been doing well!” Lie. “It’s kind of nice to be home, you know?” Lie. “It’s refreshing to be around my own species again.” That one was presented as a joke, but it was still, factually, a lie. Did you usually lie this much? Diavolo hadn’t noticed if you had. And he would have noticed.

It was ultimately his fault, and he understood that. The devildom was under his rule, and had his whims overtaken him, he could have ordered you to stay. It just wasn’t time. Not yet. There was still so much work to be done.

Step 1: Bring about the integration and unity of the three realms.

Step 2: His swift and successful coronation.

Step 3: With his rule solidified and the King’s word absolute, no one would dare go against him when he appoints you as Human Ambassador to the demon realm. With such an important position within the new government system, so much as a finger lifted against you would be treason in his book. He would make the realm safe for you.

Step 4: Argue to the council that it is a political marriage.

That’s the dream that keeps Diavolo going, anyway. His golden orbs lift from the mushrooms he unceremoniously shoves to the side of his plate (subtly, so he didn’t hurt your feelings, of course) over to Barbatos, who watches you with a genuine smile as you speak. What were you saying? Something about a stray cat? Back down to the mushrooms.

He knew the likelihood of this plan succeeding was low - just a dream to keep him working at his goal of unification. What will probably happen is that he will have a spouse chosen for him. Someone he might not yet know, whoever the council sees as the most advantageous choice. Likely a female, as is tradition. Likely traditionally pretty, the boring kind of pretty. Barbatos would intervene only enough to ensure he doesn’t dislike his appointed queen. Maybe Diavolo would even grow to love them one day. But it isn’t what he wants. Who he wants. He would be expected to produce a line of heirs - full-blood demon heirs - and cambion mutts just wouldn’t do. Not his words, of course. That’s what the tabloids said the last time the two of you were seen in public together. They called you his concubinatus. The writer of the article is longer there. No one knows where they are now except Barbatos.

“There's not really anything preventing MC from marrying me, right? Since we’re both humans and all." Solomon’s words echo in Diavolo’s mind, his smug grin still burned into the back of Diavolo’s retinas. The brothers had been more than willing to marry you into the devildom, but Diavolo had not allowed it. If anyone was going to marry you in, it was going to be him. He knew the likelihood of your union going smoothly was slim, but it would not stop him from trying. He was not above monopolizing you. He was the demon lord, not the lord of selflessness. But you were out of his hands here and settled in Solomon’s. He couldn’t stand it.

“Do you think you’ll ever get married, MC?” He later asks you casually as he helps you prepare the bonfire. Barbatos had half-heartedly attempted to dissuade him, as his suit could get dirty, but Diavolo insisted. He hadn’t gotten any alone time with you today, and he likely wouldn’t see you again for a while. He didn’t care about some frivolous suit. You drop the stick you’re holding, but it tumbles into the fire pit, so you figure you can leave it be.

“Where did that come from?” Your flushed face is camouflaged well by the fading sunset. You quickly grab another bundle to continue building the fire. Diavolo casually swirls the wine in his goblet and peers in, probably inspecting some aspect of the wine that you have no eye for. The sunset hides his own flush from the alcohol. He remained silent, expecting an answer.

“U-Uhm. I suppose that depends on if I find the right person.” You fumble with a few sticks in your grasp before dumping them beside the fire. You crouch down and begin strategically arranging the sticks around lumps of kindling.

Truth.

“Could you…” Perhaps he shouldn’t ask you this. He’s admittedly afraid of the answer. “...see yourself marrying Solomon?”

“What?”

Silence.

“I…” You thought for a moment, laughed, and shook your head. “I don’t think so.”

LIE.

Diavolo expertly shoots the rest of his wine like it wasn’t at least half a goblet.

“We aren’t together or anything, if that’s what you’re trying to figure out. You aren’t being very subtle, you know.” You tease.

This was true.

“I guess I could see marrying Solomon if things didn’t work out, but…there’s someone I have my eye on.” You shove some dry grass between the logs, trying to hide behind your task.

True.

“I don’t see how it would work. I don’t think I would be anywhere near his radar, but…” Perhaps it’s the sunset, perhaps it’s the wine swimming around in your blood, but you felt a bit bold. You look up, directly into his eyes, slightly luminous in the encroaching darkness of the night. “...The heart wants what the heart wants.”

Oh shit, wait, what? Are you coming on to him? Right now?

“Do…I know this person?” Perhaps it’s the wine he just downed, but he too is feeling bold. The corner of his lip quivers ever so slightly in the attempt to hide a grin threatening to spread across his face, just in case he’s wrong. But he doesn’t think so.

“You do.” You stand up and dust your hand off on your pants.

Truth.

He tries to bite his lip to keep his face in line, but his lip rolls beneath his fangs and the corners of his eyes crinkle. The way you’re looking at him, there’s no way he’s misinterpreting it. You take a shy step closer, your eyes flit from his eyes to his fangs and quickly back up.

“Is it…me?” Diavolo asks playfully, now inches from your face.

“No.” You shrug. You casually toss a few more sticks into the fire pit.

With a snap of his fingers, the fire is lit. It roars to life and lights up your faces, your goofy grins and reddened cheeks on full display. The warmth of the blaze is matched only by the warmth of Diavolo’s arms snaking around your waist.

“Liar.”

His mouth envelops yours in an instant.

______________________________________________________________

@dokidokidemons, @ourfinalisation

#obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me barbatos #obey me diavolo #obey me fluff #obey me x mc

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thisisourlovestory · 3 months

Text

It’s Nice to Have a Friend

part 2- the chronicles of a stargirl and her sun masterlist

Luke Castellan x reader

Summary- the first full day at camp where slight drama unfolds and you make a new friend

Word count- 5.4k

Notes- thank you @imaginingmoonlight again for the vibe (I don’t know what else to call it) and I’d also like to say that I was actually inspired to write this series by @tangledinlove because the killerverse is amazing and I love it so also thanks to her otherwise I wouldn’t have done this.

Taglist:

@abbersreads @tenshis-cake

“We've just got to find out what you're good at first.” Annabeth explained as you walked beside her. “It might be that you are just really bad at using weapons but don't feel bad. You barely nicked him and he was standing in the wrong place so it was technically his own fault.” You winced.

“I didn't mean to, I swear, it just kinda slipped out of my hand before I was ready.” Annabeth grinned.

“At least you know to never try to throw a javelin when we do sports unless you want to skewer someone.” You glared at her.

“I'm glad someone is enjoying my embarrassment. I could have killed him! And then what would happen? Besides, I don't think that helped my prospects of making any friends here other than you.” She waved a dismissive hand.

“You'll make friends. It's just that you're new and the circumstances were interesting to say the least. Also it is spring so there are way less people here than there will be in summer.” You sent her an unimpressed look.

“You can't talk. Everyone loves you. I'll bet even Mr D doesn't hate you as much as the rest of us.”

“That is a lie. Plenty of campers don't like me.”

“Oh really? Name one.” You crossed your arms over your chest as she struggled to answer. “Didn't think so.” You said smugly as she stuck her tongue out.

“We've got to get to the armoury. It's time to try out sword fighting.” You paled.

“Can we not skip it?”

“Not a chance.”

Annabeth rummaged through a pile of swords. Occasionally picking one up to show to you and immediately putting it back down at your face. You wandered around the armoury, glancing every once in a while at Annabeth to check she hadn't cut herself accidentally. Finally she emerged from the pile, holding a sword triumphantly above her head.

“This one is perfect.” She held it out and you gingerly took it. The bronze blade was sharp and shining, the smooth metal cold to the touch.

“I don't see why I can't just use my knife.” She sighed.

“Because it's not made of celestial bronze so it won't kill monsters. Now get out there, I'll be out in a moment to teach you some stuff.” You trudged out and took your place on the sawdust, swinging the sword from side to side, letting the tip brush the floor lightly. Annabeth followed out quickly and got into position.

“Just try and land a hit on me.” You gaped at her.

“You want me to try and hit you?” She shrugged.

“It's a good way to test if you have a natural ability for sword fighting” Without warning she swung her sword forward and you lifted your own to block the blow.

“Not bad.” She swung again and you stumbled back slightly to avoid the hit.

“So I just kinda,” You swept the sword in front of you and Annabeth jumped back to avoid it, “Actually I think that works.” Annabeth slashed her blade through the air and you ducked, sweeping your own out in a wide arc, hitting her ankles with the flat side of the blade. She hissed at the sting and narrowed her eyes as you rose up and smiled. She rained down a flurry of blows on you and you blocked each one as well as you could, ending up with a multitude of tiny nicks on your arms. You rolled onto the floor to dodge a particularly well aimed stab headed straight for your neck and twirled the sword in the air before thrusting it forward to just under her chin. Annabeth’s eyes widened in shock before a grin took over her face.

“Not bad, but-” She grabbed the hilt of your sword and twisted, forcing you to let go and allowing her to poke you lightly in the stomach. “I win.” She handed you back the sword and you stabbed it into the ground. “Rule number one is never let up your guard, always be expecting an attack. It’s what keeps you alive. But for your first time you did pretty good. Better than most, and with a little training you’ll be able to beat me.” You hummed.

“Maybe. But the sword feels…wrong in my hands. Like I shouldn’t be holding it.” Annabeth frowned.

“We do still need to try out some other weapons. You might like them more.” She turned and walked back to the armoury, gesturing for you to follow her. “You’re doing archery later but for now grab some knives or daggers and try to throw them at those targets over there.” You did as she instructed and gathered a collection of bronze knives, carrying them over to a bench and dumping them on it with a clatter. You squinted at a target, judging how far the distance was and picked up one of the knives.

“Wait for me before you throw them.” Annabeth started but you had already tossed it up into the air allowing it to spin and then caught it and threw it full speed across the room. In a blur it hit dead centre. Annabeth looked at you surprised. “I guess you can throw.” You were already throwing more knives at the other targets, each one making a dull thudding as they hit home in the bullseye. You huffed and pushed your hair out of your eyes as you finished, sweat dripping from your brow, eyes sparkling with exhilaration.

“That. Was. Amazing!.” You exclaimed and twirled on the spot. “Did you see that? It was so cool.” She nodded, calculating, but you didn't notice. Too caught up in your own achievement.

“Yeah those throws were scary accurate for a beginner.”

“I think we've found what I'm good at.” She laughed.

“Not so fast, you've still gotta try out archery. And Luke is helping with that. He couldn't help now cause he had to supervise the climbing wall. Make sure nobody gets burned alive that kind of stuff. But he's taking you for your first archery lesson later, responsibilities that come with being head counsellor of the Hermes cabin. That and none of the current Apollo kids stay year round yet.” She rambled and you watched with an amused smile. “Anyway we have to get going for lunch, since it's not summer and there's not so many people we don't have to sit at designated tables like usual, if we did most people would literally just be sitting by themselves and that's just sad.” Your stomach rumbled and you glared down at it before looking up at her sheepishly.

“I'm apparently incredibly hungry so please lead the way.” She rolled her eyes and discarded her sword in a pile, kicked open the door and began the fairly long walk to the mess hall. You both trudged past the cabins where all the other campers were also starting to walk to the mess hall. There weren't many at all, about twenty across all twelve cabins, chattering happily to one another as they walked in a clump. Everyone sat down on random benches, presumably with their friends, and piled the food that appeared on the tables onto their plates in mountains.

There was a varied selection of food, all stacked in heaps so they filled up all the available space, there was something for everyone. Breads, cheeses and cuts of meat spread out for a buffet style meal, pots of soup, bowls with all kinds of pasta, rice and meat coated in sticky sweet sauces. There were even baskets stacked with fresh fruit surrounded by tiny bite sized sweets covered in sugar. Annabeth grabbed some food for herself and picked up some meat from a pile that stained her fingers red.

“Try this it's good, It's beef marinated in some random sauce and then cooked on the barbecue. Nobody actually knows what's in the sauce but it's kinda spicy.” She paused thoughtfully. “And it has garlic in it. I think.” She licked her fingers, getting rid of the red stain as you followed her advice and plated some of the beef along with rice and a warm bread roll dripping with butter. Annabeth immediately made her way over to the fire and dropped some food into it, you snatched up a bunch of grapes and followed suit. As the grapes fell into the flames you shut your eyes and bent your neck slightly.

“Hi, it's me, again. I don't know who you are but could you maybe send a sign or something. It couldn't hurt. Could it?” You mumbled and straightened up as smoke rose into the air smelling like every kind of food you could ever imagine.

“I really can see why they like burnt food.” You stated as you sat down next to Annabeth at a table. “It smells annoyingly good.” You took a bite of food. “And that's delicious as well.” She smiled, taking a bite of her own food.

“Told you so.” You both ate in silence, too occupied with savouring every bite that you forgot to ask any questions. All too soon the lunch break was over and Annabeth was directing you to the archery field.

“So you basically just follow the path past the Big House and he said he'd be waiting for you there and if you got lost he'd go and find you.” She turned around as someone called her name and yelled back. “Give me a minute.” She looked back at you. “Have fun and I'll see you later at dinner.” She spun on her heel and ran off as you did the same and walked in the opposite direction.

You hummed quietly to yourself as you walked through the woods, the trees shading you from the sun. Dust from the path floated in the air as you kicked the stones from it and into the grass, other campers passed you once or twice, attempting to whisper to each other about you and failing as their voices rang out like foghorns through the otherwise silent trees. You passed the Big House and caught Chiron watching. You waved slightly and continued without waiting to see if he responded. After a few more minutes of walking you arrived at the archery field to see the targets lined up and a selection of bows laid on the grass ready for use. You looked around and saw nobody. Not a single soul in sight. He's probably just running late, you thought, Annabeth said he was head of the Hermes cabin though so he must be busy taking care of something. So you waited. You sat down on the damp floor and fiddled around, picking blades of grass and twisting them around your fingers as tightly as possible before they snapped, plucking daisies, weaving them into a crown and placing it on your head. You even resorted to picking up one of the bows, subsequently snapping the string across your hand and leaving a raised red line across the palm of it. Then you settled back down, made yourself comfortable and placed your chin in your hand. You hadn't meant to fall asleep but the night before had been almost sleepless, tossing and turning in an unfamiliar bed with unfamiliar people in some of the other bunks. So you somehow ended up drifting off with the warm heat of the sun on your back and a cool breeze blowing across your face.

You woke up just as suddenly as you had fallen asleep, an owl hooted softly and you realised it was growing dark. The sun almost completely set in the horizon, only a thin sliver of light peeking out from behind the trees. You got to your feet and began the march up to the cabins. It was most definitely too late for dinner but you remembered Annabeth mentioning there was a campfire tonight. You followed the smoke rising in the distance and the faint glow of the flames, tripping over the occasional dip in the ground and sliding over the grass. Shortly, you arrived at the campfire and Annabeth spotted you almost immediately, jumping to her feet and running over.

“Where were you?” She asked, an accusatory tone to her voice and a frown on her face. “I couldn't find you anywhere. And what is that in your hair?”

“I don't want to talk about it.” You mumbled, sitting down and reaching out for a stick; shoving a marshmallow onto it then holding it above the fire to toast.

“Did you suck at archery?” You laughed half heartedly at her question.

“I wouldn't know yet Annabeth.” She tilted her head and studied you puzzled before a look of understanding passed over her face.

“He didn't teach you any archery.”

“He didn't even bother to show up.” You corrected, pulling the marshmallow out of reach from the fire and blowing on it slightly as you grabbed two chocolate covered biscuits with the other hand and mashed the marshmallow between them. The chocolate melted, mixing with the gooey melted mess of marshmallow. You lifted it to your mouth and took a bite.

“And I don’t care at the moment. I just want to eat my smore. I forgot how good they were, do you want one?”

“No I already had some. I’ve been meaning to ask you, where did you get that hoodie from?”

“Oh it was waiting for me yesterday when I woke up. Probably just a spare one from lost and found since my clothes were ruined.”

“Right, lost and found.” Annabeth sat still for a second then grabbed your hand and dragged you around the campfire to the opposite side despite your protests.

“Why are you so freakishly strong?”

“I am not freakishly strong! And that hoodie, not from lost and found.” She stopped in her tracks as you looked at her confused.

“Huh.”

“Never mind, it’s just a hoodie. Now I have to have a little chat with Luke.” She continued to drag you until you both stood directly in front of him.

“Hey Annabeth.” Luke greeted her with a grin as he stopped talking to the people sitting around him. “What's up?”

“What's up?” She seethed. “What's up is I asked you to help earlier and you didn't want to so I pretty much begged until you said yes because I had something important on.” She took a deep breath and tears filled her eyes. “And then you didn't even do what you said you would.”

“Annabeth…”

“No don't,” She interrupted, “I don't know what exactly your problem is with Y/N since you seemed fine with her last night when she woke up but you're going to sort it out right now.” She punctuated her sentence by pushing you down next to him.

“Can we have a minute.” Luke said to the others and they all obliged, walking over to other people laughing and sneaking peeks back. “Annabeth, seriously why would you think I have a problem with Y/N?”

“You didn't want to help her, you made up fake excuses to get out of it and then you agreed but didn't follow through. So you have some kind of problem otherwise you wouldn't have done any of that.” She crossed her arms and you spoke up.

“Annabeth it's fine, really it's fine. I don't mind if Luke doesn't like me. It's not a big deal.”

“It's a big deal to me! I want you to be friends. And you'll be really good friends I swear. So can you sort out whatever is wrong and get along please. Ask each other some questions, get to know each other better. Say twenty each?” With that she ran back to the other side of the campfire to her siblings leaving you both staring after her in shock. After a moment Luke broke the silence.

“Where did you come here from?” You blinked and answered slowly.

“I lived in the UK until I was eight then moved to the USA because my parents got a job offer.” His eyes sharpened.

“Parents?”

“Yeah. I was adopted, I don't know who my real parents were. Suppose I might find out who one of them is someday though. How about you?”

“Grew up in Connecticut, ran away when I was nine.” You stared at him vaguely shocked. From everything you had heard from Annabeth, Luke was the golden boy and he had run away from home. It was hard to believe but the bitter look in his eyes quickly changed your mind.

“When you were nine. So you were homeless for how long?” He shrugged.

“Five years. But I'm here now, and I've got Annabeth and my half siblings.” You hummed and shuffled around on the log, crossing your legs and leaning forward on your hands facing him.

“How did you meet Annabeth?”

“Just before we arrived at camp, we were walking down an alley and she jumps out and almost knocks my head in with a hammer.” He laughed slightly. “We took her in and then we got here.” You tilted your head.

“We?” His expression changed immediately. “Don't want to talk about it. Got it.” He looked at you.

“Annabeth is my little sister. Not by blood but by choice. We’re family and it seems she wants you to be part of our family.”

“You are very close to each other having known each other for so little time.” He smiled slightly.

“I would say she’s easy to like but that’s not entirely true.”

“Yes she can be quite intense at times. And I’ve only known her a day, can’t imagine what she must be like once you’ve known her a bit longer than that.” You grinned at him and tilted your head. “Must be unbearable.”

“You get used to it. Annabeth is Annabeth, she’s smarter than everyone, always six steps ahead of everyone else, she’s an incredible fighter and along with that she’s stubborn as a mule. But I wouldn’t change anything about her because then she wouldn’t be Annabeth.” He sighed and rested his elbows on his knees, holding his clasped hands in front of him.

“I am sorry I missed your archery lesson. I didn’t mean to I just got caught up practising.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Practising what?”

“Sword fighting. I’m supposed to be the best swordsman in three hundred years and I need to practise if I ever want to go on a quest.” You hummed noncommittally.

“I suppose that makes sense.”

You turned to look at the fire. The flames a bright yellow, dancing up into the sky, twisting and turning, bright against the darkness of the night. Your eyes followed the smoke, whispers of grey spiralling up, up, up into the atmosphere.

“I can give you the lesson now if you’d like.” Your eyes widened in surprise as you turned to face him.

“You would?”

“It’s the least I can do to make up for skipping out on you earlier.” He quickly stood up and held out his hand. “Coming?” You smiled brightly and grabbed his hand.

“Lead the way Castellan.”

“Remind me why we're in the armoury again.”

“You need a good bow before you can shoot right. So here we are.” He raised his hands and turned in a circle. “Take your pick.” You rummaged through the bows, picking one up occasionally to inspect it. There were so many different styles, some smaller, some larger, some metal, some wooden, some decorated and ornate; others as plain as could be. The difference between being inconspicuous and wanting to show off. You stepped over to a crate and pushed off the lid, letting it fall on the ground with a bang. You shuffled through the few bows stored in the crate, disgust filling your face at the ostentatious designs.

“Do people just use these to look cool?”

“Some of the Apollo kids definitely do. But they can shoot with any bow and make the shot so it doesn’t really matter to them.” He picked one up and held it out. “This one looks like it’d fit you.” You scrunched your nose.

“It’s too…much. Yeah, it’s too much.” You slid over to another rack and pulled some off.

“I’m not sure if I’ll ever find…” Your voice trailed off as you picked one up from the very back, pulling it out of the pile that it was buried under. The bow was a smooth crescent, dipping in the middle, covered with strips of leather, with slightly curved ends, pointed and dipped in silver. The wood was engraved with miniature flowers and vines, each petal painted delicately with faded colours of red, blue and purple, the vines thin lines of green weaving through them. Your fingers floated over them, tracing each petal's outline with a look of wonderment on your face.

“Well how about this one?” You snapped your head up quickly, holding the bow close to your body, Luke raised his eyebrows. “You good?” You cleared your throat.

“This one. This is the one.”

“Are you sure? This one,” He waved the one in his hand in the air,”Is particularly nice and actually new, made only a couple of days ago.” You regarded the one he was holding with disdain. It was plain, nothing that made it stand out. It could not have been more unlike the one you held tightly in one hand, fingers flexing around the leather grip.

“No. This is the one, it’s perfect.” He sighed.

“Alright then, I’m not going to argue with you. Follow me.” He walked outside with you behind and stood in front of a target, illuminated by the dim light from torches lit up around the edge of the field. He steadied an arrow. “You pull back, straighten your aim and release.” He let go and the arrow landed just outside the bullseye. “Your turn.” You fiddled with the bow, stroking the leather nervously and tapping the sharp silver capped ends. He smirked teasingly. “Come on then. Or are you scared you won’t be good enough at it.” You scoffed and stomped over to him, grabbing an arrow and nocking it, pulling the string taut to your cheek and narrowing your eyes at the target.

“First of all, you’ll never hit the target like that. Lift your elbow. And widen your stance.” You shuffled your feet. “No, not quite. May I?” You nodded. “You need to just,” He moved behind you and placed one hand on your waist, the other on your arm and kicked one of your feet to the side, “That’s better. Now,” He lifted your elbow up. “Fire.” He whispered in your ear, his warm breath grazing your skin. You sucked in a deep breath and let the arrow fly. You squeezed your eyes shut as it shot through the air and hit the target with a dull thud.

“Well look at that.” Luke murmured behind you.

“What is it Castellan?”

“Why don’t you open your eyes and see for yourself.” You hesitantly opened them and looked disbelievingly at the target, the arrow sitting in the middle of the bullseye. You took a double take, looking back at Luke and then back to the target.

“I did that? Me?” You whispered and Luke chucked quietly.

“Yeah you did but let’s try again. This time by yourself. Make sure it wasn’t just my expert skills that made you shoot like that on your first try.” He nodded to the target and you nocked another arrow, pulling back the string to your cheek with ease and letting it loose quickly, sending the arrow flying and splitting the wood of the previous one as it lodged just between the feathers.

“Not just your expert skills apparently.” His lips twitched upwards.

“Perhaps not, but I will need more proof.”

“Then I will give you some.” With that you fired a volley of arrows, each one landing so they formed a star when you finished. You stared proudly at your work. “How’s that for your proof?”

“That's pretty hard proof. You must be a natural at archery and my teachings clearly have nothing to do with it.”

“Your teachings have something to do with it. You got me that first shot. I’m just a quick learner, and lobbing things at targets is apparently my thing now.” You dropped the bow down carefully in the grass and turned around to look at him and added as an afterthought. “Except for spears. That did not go well.”

“I heard.” You winced and twiddled your thumbs.

“Yeah. Anyway thank you for this, you really didn’t have to.” He shrugged.

“Like I said, I wanted to make up for this afternoon and giving you a late lesson seemed the best way to do it.” You rolled your eyes at his words and threw yourself down on the ground, unbothered by the damp soil. Your hands rested on your stomach and the longer pieces of grass ticked your ears as you gazed up at the sky, the stars twinkled above, shining brightly like miniature diamonds. They decorated the night, small pockets of light in the deep blue sky, soon to give way to pure blackness but the stars would still be there.

You felt Luke lay down next to you and heard him ask you a question.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“What?” You asked back, turning to look at him.

“Your favourite colour. Annabeth said we should get to know each other so what’s your favourite colour?” You stared at him for a second and found nothing but truth in his eyes.

“I’m not sure,” You paused for a moment, “I like green a lot though. It’s pretty and there are so many different shades of it, some are more blue like the sea and others are more the colour of the trees. But you can find traces of green everywhere and I think that’s why I like it, it's not just some obscure colour that you can only find in clothes. It’s all around us, you’ve just got to look for it” You stopped, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, you weren’t really looking for that kind of long winded explanation were you.”

“No I don’t mind, it was interesting. Besides, I've heard longer explanations from Annabeth about why she had nutella on her toast in the morning rather than her usual jam.” You tipped your head to the side and laughed.

“And what was the reason for that exactly?”

“The first time she did it I believe she spouted some nonsense about it being high in fibre as well as having iron and calcium in it and also would give her more energy to deal with, as she put it, incompetent fools. However every other time she's done it she just gives me a look as if I'm completely stupid.” You muffled a snort at his indignant tone.

“She sounds like a middle aged woman called Susan or something. And for the record you are stupid.”

“I always thought she was more of a Theresa but each to their own and I’m not stupid at all thank you very much.” You snorted again and quickly covered it with a cough, composing yourself as he smiled smugly at the reaction he managed to pull out of you.

“So anyway, what’s your favourite colour?” You asked, shifting slightly to look at him better.

“Blue, a really clear bright blue, like the sky in summer, electric blue almost.” He answered decisively and you tapped your fingers together in thought.

“And how old are you?”

“Fifteen, you?”

“Fourteen. Why do you want to go on a quest so badly?”

“I need to prove that I'm a hero. And going on a quest is the only way I can do that.”

“Is it?” He faced you with a look of disbelief.

“Yes, if I go on a quest I'm a hero because I get glory from it, you don't get glory from sitting around at camp doing nothing. You have to fight for it so I need to go on a quest.”

“Right, sorry.” You murmured and looked back up at the sky, head resting on your crossed arms. “The stars are beautiful aren’t they.” You muttered. “I find it hard to believe they can only be found in such distant planes of the universe when we can see them right there in front of us.” You lifted a hand and traced a kind of w shape in the sky. “That’s Cassiopeia, the Queen, you probably already know this but she was the mother of Andromeda and was forced to sacrifice her to a sea monster due to her own pride when she boasted her beauty was greater than that of the sea nymphs.” You pointed to another cluster of stars. “And that’s Ursa Major,” You moved your finger again, “And that’s Virgo, the Maiden.”

“How do you know those constellations?” Luke asked quietly.

“My dad.” You smiled. “He taught me all the constellations and we would go stargazing together in the country whenever he had a free night. The first time he took me was when I was three and he said I asked for food every two minutes, after that he would always bring a picnic, sandwiches, carrot sticks, biscuits and little slices of cake with tea or hot chocolate in a thermos so I would never get hungry. And we would lie on a blanket and watch the stars, pointing out all the constellations we saw and naming whatever stars we could. On special occasions he would bring his telescope and let me use it so that I could see everything that was happening as closely as possible.”

“He sounds nice.”

“Yeah he is,” You whispered, “He really is.” You both went silent for a while, simply gazing up at the stars in peace and quiet, comfortable in each other's company.

After a while Luke stood up.

“We should get going, everyone will already be sleeping by now and we can tidy this all up first thing tomorrow.” You sat up and took his offered hand, allowing him to pull you to your feet.

“Thanks.” You leant down to scoop up your new bow. “I can take this back can't I?”

“It's yours.” He answered simply as he started to walk to the cabins with you hurrying to walk next to him.

“Thanks again for, y’know.” He glanced down at you.

“You don't need to keep thanking me, it was my fault for not showing up earlier. I was just making good on my promise to Annabeth.”

“Yeah but still, I appreciate it. Other people wouldn't have done what you just did.” You reached the semicircle of cabins and took a step into the Hermes one before you realised Luke wasn't following. You turned your head back to look at him only to find him looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“What is it? Do I have something on my face?” You slapped your cheek lightly.

“No you just-” He stepped forwards and righted something on your head, brushing the hair back from your face in the process. “Your flowers were falling off stargirl.”

“Oh.” You breathed out, a hand rising to feel the flowers. “Thank you, I forgot I had them, I thought they would've fallen off earlier.” You furrowed your eyebrows. “Stargirl?” He shrugged and offered a simple explanation before walking past you into the cabin.

“It suits you.” You smiled and made your way to your bed, quickly grabbing a top and pair of pyjama shorts before running to change into them behind the private screen set up in the corner of the cabin and then bouncing into bed. You lay there for a minute, staring up at the wooden ceiling, before you turned to face the empty bed next to you.

“Hey Castellan.” You whispered loudly and from the other side of the room he answered.

“What is it stargirl?”

“Are we friends now?”

“Nah, we're best friends stargirl, I don’t just teach anyone archery in the middle of the night. and don't think you can get out of this easily, best friends are for life.” You smiled into the darkness at the joking tone in his voice and answered with a hint of laughter.

“Wouldn't dream of it. I gotta say, it's nice to have a friend.” You hurriedly added, “Other than Annabeth and Maisie,” And turned over to the other side, “Goodnight Castellan.” You said and burrowed deep into the duvet. The last thing you heard was a soft laugh and Luke's voice saying.

“Goodnight stargirl, sleep well.”

Light pink sky up on the roof Sun sinks down, no curfew Twenty questions, we tell the truth You've been stressed out lately? Yeah me too

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