#and then snap out of it when the sun rises

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (17) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: finally, you enjoy your honeymoon. 

word count: 1,417

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: another short chapter im so sorry, tooth-rotting fluff, sexual references, implied smut, pet name (petal), not proofread

Light streamed in through the window as the sun began to rise. Coryo’s pale blonde hair almost seemed to glow. You reached up, brushing a strand away from his face. He looked so soft like this. He looked a lot softer generally now. Could this be the almighty honeymoon phase of a relationship blinding you to his flaws? No, you mused. Coryo had always been different around you. Before, you thought it was out of distaste, but now you knew the truth. 

You ran your thumb over the swell of his cheek. This was nice. You understood why Coryo always liked to touch you. There was something so sweet about it. Something so intimate, knowing that no one else will ever touch him like this. A smile tugged at your lips. You scooted closer, kissing him softly. You couldn’t help it. 

“Now who’s accosting who?” Coryo teased, his eyes still shut.

You pressed another kiss to his lips. “What? I can’t kiss my husband?”

Coryo’s hands settled on your waist. He rolled over onto his back, pulling you over so you laid on top of him. “If you promise to wake me up like this every morning, you can kiss me whenever you like.”

“Deal,” you giggled. 

Finally, Coryo opened his eyes. He reached up, tucking a piece of fallen hair behind your ear. He smiled up at you, his pale blue eyes twinkling. “What are you doing awake so early? The point of a honeymoon is to relax.”

“I was admiring my husband. Is that not also the point of a honeymoon?”

Coryo pulled you down for another kiss. His tongue swiped against your bottom lip, begging for entrance. You held back a giggle as you remembered where else that tongue had been—how your Coryo spent the entire night between your legs until you begged for mercy. Coryo’s fingers carded through your hair, tugging you closer. Your nose bumped against his. This time, you did giggle. 

“You think my kissing technique is funny?” Coryo chided. His tone was playful, though. A far cry from the boy you thought you knew on the schoolyard. 

“I think I am lucky to have such a loving man for a husband.”

“Don’t try to distract me. You laughed as I kissed you,” he said. You leaned in to kiss him, but this time he let out a sarcastic laugh as your lips touched his. “Doesn’t feel very good, does it, petal?”

“You are a spiteful man, Mr. Snow. You don’t even know why I laughed.”

“Tell me then.”

You pet Coryo’s hair, a soft smile on your lips. It was a stark contrast to the wetness you felt between your legs as you recalled the memory of last night. “I was thinking of where else that filthy tongue of yours has been.”

Coryo’s eyes fell shut. You felt him stiffen against your thigh. Your smile turned to a smirk. “Oh, petal, you can’t say things like that first thing in the morning. I’ll never be able to continue my day like this.”

“Hmm, but we’re on our honeymoon, aren’t we? What else do we have to do but enjoy each other?” you reminded.

His eyes snapped open. A low hum reverberated in his chest. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Your smirk grew. You shifted off of him, slipping out of his hands. Your feet hit the floor. As you moved toward the door, “In that case, I’m going to ask if breakfast can be made. Do you have any requests?”

Coryo let out a growl. He followed you of the bed, trying to grab your hips and pull you back against him. “My little petal has some thorns of her own, hm? I think you know what I want for breakfast.”

“No, no, I don’t want to kill my husband. Not after I’ve decided to like him, you know.” You kissed the tip of his nose. “I’m thinking pancakes.”

You slipped out of his hands again, giggling to yourself as you made a beeline for the door, shutting it behind you. In the distance, you heard Coryo fumble with the door before his footsteps echoed down the hall. You picked up your pace, nearly making it to the kitchen when you felt a pair of hands grab you from behind. A squeal escaped your lips.

Coryo’s lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “Now, I’ll let you tell the staff to make breakfast,” he growled, “but as soon as we’re finished, I’m dragging you back to our room and finishing you off as dessert. Am I understood?”

“Is that a threat, Mr. Snow?”

His teeth nipped at your earlobe. “It’s a promise, Mrs. Snow.”

And he kept it. 

“How many children do you want?” you asked Coryo as he dragged a rag between your legs, cleaning up the mess the two of you made. You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as his brows pinched together. 

“Does it matter what I wish? You’ll be the one giving birth.”

You rolled your eyes. “Of course it matters. A marriage is a partnership. We should discuss these sorts of things.”

A sigh escaped his lips. He stepped away, taking the rag to the bathroom. You were left alone for a minute before he returned. Coryo climbed into the bed. He settled on his back and pulled you into his arms. “One, I think. I would like to give you the experience of motherhood, if you so wish it. But I don’t think I can handle seeing you in that sort of position more than once.”

“That sort of position? What are you—oh.”

It was easy to forget about his mother. Even though you knew this was the cottage where she had him and was going to have his sister, the very same cottage she lost her life in, it was easy to forget. One part of the Coriolanus that you once knew that remained true for your Coryo was that he kept his true, most vulnerable, parts to himself. In a lot of ways, he’d exposed those parts to you. But there were still things that you still hadn’t been exposed to. This was one of them, you supposed. 

“I don’t know what I would do with myself if I lost you,” Coryo said. When you tilted your head up to look at him, his eyes were shut. If he hadn’t just been speaking, you might have thought him asleep. “Burn all of Panem to the ground, I suppose.”

“You don’t mean that, Coryo.”

“None of this matters if I don’t have you by my side,” he said. His grip on you tightened. “When I was younger, I had always dreamed of being King. My Grandma’am and Tigris were always so sure I would one day sit on the throne. We would talk about all of the glorious things I would do. How I would honor Panem. But these few years I have sat on the throne…While it was what I expected, it didn’t bring me satisfaction, joy, like I thought it might.”

His eyes opened again. A smile tugged at his lips. “I didn’t feel joy until the first time I got to dance with you, my petal. And now that I have it, I’m afraid I must be selfish with it. I won’t do anything that would risk your health and safety. And to bear a child…That is the one danger I cannot completely control. Should anything go wrong, I cannot do a thing. I have to place my trust in the physician to ensure your safety. I don’t like having to trust others. Besides you, of course.”

“Coryo…”

“One child would suffice to carry on the Snow legacy. Any more and I fear I might keel over with the anxiety.”

You rolled over so that you half-laid on his chest. Reaching up, you carded your fingers through his hair. “Thank you for telling me that.”

He huffed a small laugh. “Well, you told me your anxieties. I thought it was only right that I told you mine.”

“And I think I would be happy with just one child, too,” you said, kissing the corner of his mouth. “But I am in no rush to have any now. I was just curious.”

“How I love that curious mind of yours.”

A part of you, one that you were still trying to familiarize yourself with, nearly said that you loved him too.

[wholoveseggs]

Crimson Frost {Part Three}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Three

Things heat up between you and Elijah as you prepare to rescue Gerda and Henrik. In the pursuit of your sister things get bloody and an unexpected warrior comes to your aid.

♡♡ I'm sorry that this one is taking so long, there will be a part four! {and possibly five}

6k words - Warnings: Viking AU where the Mikaelsons are completely human (no magic, werewolves, vampires... etc) lots violence in this part. SMUT!, virgin!reader, hot springs, norse runes... sword fights.

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Four}

It was a four day journey to the coast, a market was there that sold all kinds of things, including people. Elijah believed that was where the Blackthornes were taking Henrik and Gerda.

The snow was still high, but it had thawed enough for you to travel on horseback, the wind whipping at your face. You leaned into Elijah, his body warm and solid against yours, the scent of him filling your senses.

You were glad he was there with you, his strength and determination a comfort, especially after losing your home and family. You had fallen for him, the attraction between you growing with every day. You knew it was wrong, but you couldn't deny what you felt, the need for him, the desire.

"Are you alright?" He asked, his voice low and husky, his breath warm against your cheek.

"Aye," you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your heart fluttering at his closeness.

"We will find them, sweet Gerda and Henrik," he promised, his arms were around your waist, holding the reins, guiding the horse, "we will not let the Blackthornes keep them,"

You nodded, swallowing hard, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. The thought of them being sold into slavery, or worse, made your stomach twist.

You stopped to camp for the night, the sun dipping below the horizon, the stars twinkling in the sky. The wind howled around you, the cold biting at your exposed skin.

Elijah started a fire, the flames casting a warm glow around you, the warmth chasing away the chill. The two of you had grown very comfortable around each other, falling into a routine, each taking on the various tasks of setting up camp, cooking food, and caring for the horse.

You took a walk to go fetch some water from the nearby river, the moonlight illuminating your path. You came across a small hot spring, the steam rising into the air, the heat and humidity inviting.

You were tired and sore from the long day of riding and the idea of relaxing in the hot water was too tempting.

You took off your clothes and slowly stepped into the water, the heat enveloping you, the water soothing your muscles. You let out a long sigh of relief, closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth.

You heard the sound of twigs snapping behind you and turned, your eyes flying open.

"Elijah," you gasped, your face flushing, dipping lower into the water to hide your naked body.

"I was worried when you didn't return, I see why," he smiled, his eyes roaming over you, his gaze making your heart race.

"I haven't felt this good in weeks," you sighed, "the heat, it's relaxing,"

Elijah began to pull off his clothes, his gaze locked on yours, his body rippling with muscle.

You felt a wave of desire rush through you, your pulse quickening, a flush spreading across your cheeks. You turned away, giving him privacy, the thought of him naked making your stomach flip.

You heard him enter the water, the sounds of him splashing, his breathing shallow. You risked a glance back, his broad back was to you, the water coming up to his waist.

"Gods," he muttered, "this is wonderful,"

You let out a breathy laugh, "Aye, it is,"

The two of you faced away from each other, the silence heavy with tension, the heat of the water seeping into your skin.

"What will you do? After we rescue Gerda and Henrik," you asked, gently moving your hands through the water, creating small waves.

"I do not know," Elijah replied, his voice low and soft, "perhaps find my own land, start a family,"

"That sounds nice," you murmured, a hint of sadness in your voice. You wouldn't be going with him, your place was with Niklaus. Elijah would be a part of your past, a fond memory. You couldn't imagine not being near him, not being with him, the thought made your chest ache. "I wish you could stay with us," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

"As do I," Elijah said, his voice thick with emotion, "but we both have our duties,"

"Aye," you said, biting your lip, tears welling in your eyes.

You glanced over at him, his back was still to you, you noticed a particularly large scar stretched across his back, the pink skin raised and uneven.

You moved closer to him, the water making soft ripples as you did, your hand reaching out to trace the scar, "what happened here?" You whispered, your fingers ghosting over the sensitive skin.

He twitched under your touch, his muscles flexing, his breathing labored. "My father, he beat me, whipped me," he said, his voice a whisper, the pain evident. "For trying to protect Niklaus,"

"I heard such rumors about your father, that he was cruel," you whispered, your heart breaking for them, and the pain they endured.

"Aye, he was," Elijah sighed, "he was not a good man, but he was still my father, and I loved him,"

You pulled your hand away, his words echoing in your mind, your chest aching for him. He turned to face you, his gaze meeting yours, his expression soft, his eyes searching.

You swallowed hard, the air heavy between you, the tension crackling. He was so close to you, his naked body inches from yours. Your breasts rose and fell with each breath, your nipples hardening at the thought of him touching you, his hands exploring your body.

He reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers trailing down your cheek. You wanted to pull him closer, to feel his lips against yours, to give in to the desire burning within you.

"Elijah," you whispered, your heart racing, a flush creeping across your skin.

"Aye," he breathed, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip.

"I..." You swallowed hard, your body aching for him, "I should not have..."

"Do you love him? My brother?" Elijah whispered, his eyes burning into yours.

You hesitated, the truth of it all hitting you. You did not love Niklaus, not in the way you should, not the way a bride should love her groom. Your heart belonged to Elijah, even though it was wrong, even though the gods would not approve.

"I..." You started, your voice trembling, your emotions threatening to overwhelm you, "I do not,"

He kissed you, his lips soft and warm, the passion and heat between you consuming you. You lost yourself in the feeling of his body, the taste of his lips, the touch of his hands. The two of you gave in to the desire, the lust, the need for each other.

He guided you backwards towards the rocks, your back pressing against the smooth stone, the cold sending a shiver through you. 

"We should not be doing this," you moaned, the feeling of his teeth gently nipping at your skin sending waves of pleasure through you, "the gods, they will punish us,"

"Then let them punish," he murmured, his voice like a caress, "if it means I can spend one more moment with you, I will gladly accept their wrath,"

He lifted you, the water lapping around your thighs, his hands gripping your ass. The heat from his body contrasting with the cold air, the feeling of his manhood pressed against you made you feel glorious.

"I've never been with a man," you whispered, trying to conceal the nervousness in your voice, your body trembling with need, the excitement and desire almost overwhelming. "Have you been with a woman? Did you...?"

"Once," he whispered, his voice husky, "but it was not love, not what I feel for you,"

Your heart raced, the feel of his strong body, the strength of him, made you feel alive in a way you had never known.

He kissed you, his lips brushing against yours, soft and gentle. You leaned into him, your fingers tangling in his dark hair. His touch was so tender, so loving, as if you were the most precious thing in the world.

His eyes met yours, his fingers dipped below the waterline, and pushed slowly between your legs, causing you to gasp and jerk back, the sensation new, overwhelming.

He smiled, the lines around his eyes crinkling, the look of desire that filled them making your stomach flutter.

"Do you feel that?" He whispered, his fingers teasing the place between your legs, his touch eliciting a reaction you'd never imagined possible. 

"That is a taste of Óðr, the god of divine madness," he smiled and when he began moving the small nub between your legs with a calloused thumb, you moaned aloud.

He lowered his head to yours, his lips capturing yours, his tongue teasing, tasting. You surrendered to him, to the feelings coursing through you, the passion and desire burning inside you. You'd never felt like this before, the sensation of his touch, his kiss, was almost too much, your breath coming in small gasps, you were on the verge of something, something you'd never felt before.

The combination of the heat of the water, the warmth of his breath on your cheek, and the insistence of his fingers were doing something to your body. Your muscles began contracting, pushing towards something new, something blissful.

Then you felt it, ᛞᛁᚡᛁᚾᛖ ᛗᚨᛞᚾᛖᛋᛋ (divine madness) a feeling of rapture, an explosion, a storm. Your body alight with pleasure and a yearning for more of whatever he would give you.

He pressed his lips to yours, like he could taste your pleasure, and you knew you had been given a precious gift. Your hands clutched at his chest, your eyes locked on his, your heart fluttering, no longer caring that the gods might see you and punish you both. You parted your lips and with a soft moan he slid his tongue into your mouth and kissed you like he was drowning and you were air, his grip tight on your body.

You wanted more, the madness taking hold of you, your hand slipping beneath the water to caress his manhood, a thrill washing through you as he twitched and groaned.

You knew enough about what men and women did to know he could place himself between your legs, thrust forward and be inside you. You had heard some of the wives claim it hurt, while others hinted at immense pleasure. But you didn't care. In that moment, your mind was a fog of desire, your body singing for him.

He pressed himself against you, searching your eyes for permission, his gaze heavy with want. You locked eyes with him, giving him a small nod and he eased himself into you. There was no pain, only a dull stretch of pleasure and fullness. His arms wrapped tightly around you, his hips moving slowly, thrusting into you. You dug your fingers into his hair, moaning as he filled you, your bodies coming together in a dance of passion and lust.

"ástin mín (my love)" he whispered, his voice thick with desire, his breath hot on your cheek. You clung to him, lost in the moment, his body moving in sync with yours, the feeling of him buried deep inside you was more than you could have imagined.

The water churned around you, your bodies moving together, your breath coming in shallow gasps. The pleasure was building, a coil of ecstasy twisting tighter inside you. His hands gripped your waist, his gaze locked on yours, the need and desire between you binding you together, the need for release overwhelming.

And then it hit, waves of pleasure crashing through you, his body shuddering as he found his release, the two of you clinging to each other, the world around you fading away.

"I love you," he whispered, his voice low and hoarse, his eyes shining with emotion, his hand cupping your cheek. "And I do not care what the gods have in store for us,"

"Elijah," you breathed, a warmth filling you, your heart fluttering, "I love you too,"

He pressed his forehead to yours, his hand cupping your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair. You closed your eyes, savoring the moment, the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the scent of him, the sound of his voice.

"í þessu lífi og því næsta (in this life and the next)" he whispered, his gaze locking on yours, the look of adoration in his eyes making your heart race.

You smiled up at him, lost in the love you shared, "í þessu lífi og því næsta,"

Fear gripped your heart as you felt the weight of a raider on top of you. His face contorted into a terrifying grimace as he looked down at you. The stench of his foul breath washed over you, making you feel sick. He lifted his arm, intending to bring his axe down on you.

You screamed and woke up in your tent, Elijah watching you with concern. He reached out and took your hand, rubbing circles onto your palm in an attempt to soothe you.

"Come here, sweetheart," he whispered.

You moved closer into his waiting arms, settling in between his legs, resting your back against his chest, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

"You are trembling," he said, nuzzling your hair with his nose and continuing to rub small circles into your palms. "Another bad dream?"

"Aye," you muttered.

"Tell me what you saw."

"The raid, it haunts me," you said, swallowing hard, "the screams, the blood, the bodies,"

He hummed softly, kissing along your shoulder, "It haunts me as well,"

You closed your eyes, letting his gentle kisses wash over you, chasing away the darkness. His warmth and strength were a comfort, making you feel safe in his arms. You let out a sigh, sinking into him, the feel of his skin against yours a reminder that he was there, protecting you, loving you.

"You need to rest, tomorrow will be a long day," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear, his hand gently stroking your arm, his words soft and soothing.

You nodded, the memory of your dream still fresh in your mind, the images leaving an ache in your chest.

His hands began to roam, his touch sending sparks of pleasure through you. You moaned softly as his fingers grazed your skin, leaving trails of heat in their wake.

Since your first time together in the hot spring, the two of you had not been able to get enough of each other. Every night you would succumb to the desire between you. With each touch, each kiss, your feelings for each other grew deeper, the bond between you strengthening.

He would use his mouth, his hands and his body to give you pleasure, to bring you to the edge of bliss, to teach you every sinful thing you could do. He taught you how to please him, and in return you learned that you held power over him. To watch his eyes darken with lust, his face a mask of pleasure as you rode him, it made you feel like a Valkyrie.

"I cannot sleep," you whispered, the memory of your nightmare fading, the ache inside you building, your skin tingling.

He chuckled, laying back, pulling you down with him, holding you close. Bringing the furs over you, cocooning you both.

"After we rescue Henrik and Gerda, I will make love to you in a bed," he whispered, kissing along your neck, "not the ground or in a spring,"

"Or against a tree... or the side of a hill..." you smirked, a hint of playfulness in your voice, "I can keep going," you teased, turning to face him, your hand caressing his cheek, his stubble scratching at your skin.

"Aye, or that," he laughed, his hand cupping your rear, his touch sending a jolt of desire through you.

"What will happen to us?" You whispered, your expression clouding, "what will we do?"

"We will find a home, a land where we can build a life together," he murmured, his thumb tracing along your bottom lip, "where we can be together," he paused, a flicker of doubt crossing his features, "that is if you want to come with me," he whispered, the hesitation and vulnerability evident in his voice. He searched your eyes, his gaze intense, his heart open and exposed.

"I want nothing more," you replied, your voice a whisper, the words tumbling out, your chest aching, "I could not imagine my life without you," you added, leaning into his touch, his skin warm against yours. "But... What of Niklaus?" 

"He.... he will adjust," Elijah sighed, "it will not be easy, but he will understand," he said, his eyes searching yours, his expression a mixture of worry and affection. "I hope," he added, his brow furrowing.

He sat up and stretched, the sun just beginning to rise, beams of light filtering in through the opening of the tent. You watched him, the muscles in his back flexing, the curve of his rear, the broadness of his shoulders. You let your eyes wander over his body, committing every detail to memory.

"Since sleep is evading me, I shall go and hunt," he smiled, pulling his tunic over his head, his hair messy and wild, "there are still a few hours before we must leave, and I want to ensure we have plenty of food,"

You smiled up at him, nodding, "I will gather the supplies and get the horses ready," you said, sitting up and reaching for your clothes.

He leaned down and kissed you, the familiarity of his lips against yours sending a wave of heat through you. His hand cupped your cheek, his eyes filled with adoration and desire. He lingered, his thumb stroking your cheek, his eyes filled with longing and need. You pulled away, your heart racing, a flutter of excitement blooming in your stomach.

He turned and walked out of the tent, leaving you alone, your mind swimming with thoughts of him. You fastened your hair into a long braid, your thoughts consumed by the upcoming battle, the plan laid out, the odds stacked against you. A pang of fear gripped your heart, the weight of responsibility and duty on your shoulders, the fate of your sister in the balance. You shook your head, forcing the doubts away, steeling yourself for the task ahead.

Elijah returned with two rabbits, the scent of blood making your stomach twist, the thought of the coming battle, the risk of losing Elijah or Gerda making you nauseous. You usually didn't mind the sight of blood or the scent, but today it made you feel ill. You swallowed the feeling and quickly got to work, cooking the rabbits over a small fire, your mind whirling, your thoughts a storm.

"It will be a long day," Elijah said, handing you a flask of ale, "drink, it will give you strength,"

You thanked him, taking a sip, the taste of honey and berries filling your mouth. You handed the flask back to him, and he took a drink, his expression grim.

"The market will be busy, but we will be able to blend in with the crowd," he said, packing away the rest of the supplies, "there will be plenty of Blackthornes, so be wary,"

You nodded, taking a deep breath, he took your hand in his and squeezed.

"Do not lose hope," he said, his voice steady, "we will rescue Henrik and Gerda,"

You gave him a small smile, the confidence in his words easing some of your worry.

"If we get separated, meet me back here," he said, his expression serious, "and remember, keep a low profile, do not draw attention to yourself,"

You nodded and kissed him softly "I will,"

The smell of fish and salt hung in the air, the morning market in full swing. Merchants and traders lined the streets, their wares on display. Children ran and played, their laughter echoing through the bustling town.

The slave markets were separated from the main market, but the smell of death and blood still permeated the air. The screams and cries of those being sold haunted the town.

Elijah walked alongside you, his expression tense, his hand gripping his sword. You could feel the tension rolling off of him, his worry for Henrik and Gerda obvious.

As the two of you passed the slave pens, a woman caught your eye, she was sitting on the ground, her head in her hands. She reminded you of your mother, her hair the same color, her eyes the same shade.

You wanted to free her, to tell her she was going home, but Elijah grabbed your hand, pulling you along.

"You can't help them all," he said, his voice low, "we must find the young ones,"

You nodded, following him through the crowds, the noise and chaos making your head spin. Your heart pounded in your chest, your stomach churning, the anxiety and fear coursing through you.

The sight of the gallows was a stark reminder that this was a dangerous mission, that one wrong move could lead to death.

The crowd was thick, the heat and stench of the bodies pressed together unbearable. You could hear the auctioneer shouting, his words muffled, the air thick with anticipation.

Elijah pulled you to the side, the two of you standing at the edge of the crowd. You could see a few men wearing Blackthorne colours scattered about. It gave you hope that Henrik and Gerda might be nearby.

"This is our chance," Elijah said, his voice low, "keep your head down and follow my lead,"

You nodded, taking a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves. You followed him down to the water, to where they loaded the ships with cargo. The slaves were being kept there until the auction began.

That's when you saw her, your sister, chained and shackled. Her hair was matted and dirty, her clothes tattered and stained. She was thin, her face gaunt, her eyes haunted.

It took everything in you to not run to her and wrap her in your arms. You bit your lip, your fists clenched, the urge to free her nearly overwhelming.

You squeezed Elijah's arm, and he turned, his eyes widening when he saw her.

"Go, I'll distract them," he whispered, before stepping forward.

You watched as he approached the Blackthornes guarding the prisoners. His stance was relaxed, his voice smooth, his demeanor calm and confident.

You could tell the men were suspicious, their eyes narrowing, their hands gripping their weapons. But you couldn't worry about him right now, you had to focus on freeing your sister.

You approached the slave trader, a tall man with broad shoulders, his dark hair pulled back in a tight ponytail.

"How much for the girl?" You asked, nodding towards Gerda.

The man's eyes roamed over your body, his gaze lecherous, making you shudder.

"She's a pretty one," he said, his voice a low rumble, "but she's a feisty one, needs a firm hand,"

You swallowed hard, the thought of her being touched, abused by a monster like him, made you want to scream.

"So will that lower the price?" You asked, forcing a smile.

The man considered, his eyes raking over you again, "Aye, a fair trade,"

He held out his hand, and you took it, his grip tight, his skin rough. With the other hand you grabbed the dagger at your waist, and plunged it into his neck.

He collapsed, unable to make a sound, you looked around to see if anyone noticed, but the men were still distracted by Elijah. You grabbed the keys off the trader's belt and quickly unlocked the shackles around her ankles and wrists.

She blinked up at you, her eyes wide, her expression confused. The pain in her eyes broke your heart, you could only imagine what she had been through.

"Systir?" She said weakly, her voice hoarse.

"Aye, Gerda, it's me," you said, pulling her into a hug.

She clung to you, her arms wrapping around you tightly, her tears dampening your tunic.

You pulled away, helping her to her feet. Her legs were weak, her body trembling.

"You've got to be strong," you whispered, "do you know where Henrik is?"

"He was sold," she choked out, her face crumpling.

"We'll find him," you said, gripping her arm.

Just then you heard the sound of fighting. You turned to see Elijah and the men locked in combat. Blood was pouring from a wound on his arm, but he didn't seem fazed. You felt torn, wanting to help him, but needing to get Gerda out of harm's way. You knew what you had to do and what he would want.

"We need to get out of here," you said, pulling her away.

The sound of battle rang out, the clang of swords, the grunts and shouts of the men. You scooped Gerda up into your arms, and she wrapped her arms around your neck.

"Hold on, Gerda," you whispered.

She buried her face in your neck, her breathing ragged, her body shaking. You ran back to the market, slowing your pace, trying to blend in with the crowds.

You could hear the men shouting, the sounds of their pursuit growing louder. You weaved in and out of the crowds, trying to lose them. Your heart was pounding, your mind racing. Suddenly a hand grabbed your arm, spinning you around.

It was Niklaus.

You felt immense relief wash over you, seeing him there, safe.

"You're alive," he gasped, his voice hoarse, his eyes wild. "Do you know what happened to Elijah? to young Henrik?" He asked, his gaze darting around, looking for danger.

"Henrik is gone," Gerda sobbed, her face red and blotchy, "sold, not long ago," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper.

Niklaus' expression darkened, his jaw clenching, his eyes flashing with anger. "Are you hurt?"

You shook your head, "I'm fine, I'm taking Gerda somewhere safe, Elijah was fighting the men who held them captive,"

Niklaus cursed under his breath, he looked like a true warrior, his head shaved into a mohawk, the Mikaelson colors painted on his face. You could see his muscles rippling underneath his tunic, his chest and arms were covered in tattoos. The scars on his arms and face told the story of a fierce fighter, one who had survived many battles. It had only been a few months since you had seen him, but he had changed so much and so had you.

"Take her and leave," he growled, "go to the forest, hide there,"

"I won't leave without Elijah," you said, your tone firm.

He gave you an odd look, and you felt a wave of guilt wash over you. But now was not the time to dwell on it, now was the time to act.

"Stay safe," he said, before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

You pulled Gerda along, keeping to the shadows, trying to stay out of sight. The sound of battle echoed through the market, the cries of the wounded, the clash of steel. You came across the stables, her weight growing heavier with each step. You could feel her heart pounding against your chest, her breath coming in short gasps.

As you approached the stables, you could hear the sound of a man's voice, the familiarity of it making your hair stand on end. Einar.

"We need to hide," you whispered, setting her down.

She leaned against the wall, her chest heaving, her body trembling. You looked around the corner of the barn to see Henrik on the ground, Einar looming over him.

Your blood ran cold, rage burning inside you. You gripped your axe, the familiar weight of it calming you.

"Stay here, Gerda," you said, your voice low.

She shook her head and clinged to your arm, her nails digging into your skin.

"You can't take him," she whimpered, "he's too strong,"

"I have to try," you said, pulling her into a hug, you handed her a small dagger Elijah had given you, "take this, if anyone tries to hurt you, use it,"

She nodded, her eyes filled with fear.

You crept around the corner of the barn, the stench of urine and manure assaulting your nose.

"Not even worth the money I paid for you," Einar snarled, kicking Henrik in the stomach.

The boy groaned in pain, his eyes scrunched shut, his fists clenched.

"Get up, boy," Einar spat, grabbing Henrik by the shirt, dragging him to his feet.

You charged at him from behind, raising your axe and striking him in the back with all your strength.

Einar stumbled forward, dropping Henrik. The boy fell to the ground, clutching his stomach, his eyes wide with shock.

"You bitch," Einar growled, whirling around, his eyes filled with fury.

Cold fear shot through you, the sight of his scarred face, his cruel smile making you freeze. Your axe still in his back, you backed away, reaching for the dagger at your waist.

Suddenly, Henrik leaped onto Einar's back, his arms around his neck, trying to strangle him.

The sight spurred you into action, and you ran forward, stabbing the dagger into his shoulder, his scream of pain echoing through the stables.

Einar thrashed, trying to shake Henrik off, but the little warrior held on, his face grim with determination.

The three of you struggled, the fight raging, your breath coming in short gasps, the sound of steel clashing ringing in your ears.

Your body ached, the blows Einar landed, his punches, kicks and elbows leaving their mark. But you and Henrik managed to bring him to his knees.

He roared, flinging Henrik off his back, and the boy slammed into the wall, his body limp.

Einar's hand went to his waist, and you knew what was coming, he was going to grab his sword and cut you in half.

You scrambled backwards, the adrenaline coursing through you, the fear making you frantic.

You were cornered, no way out, no escape.

He raised his blade, his face twisted in a cruel smile. Gerda screamed and ran forward, putting herself between you and Einar. You cried out, trying to stop her, but she ignored you. Her face was a mask of fury and determination, her body trembling, but she didn't hesitate, didn't flinch. She stared up at him, her fists clenched, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Don't touch my systir!" she shouted, her voice strong and clear.

Einar laughed, "Two children and a woman? This will be fun,"

He raised his sword, the blade glinting in the sunlight. This was it, the moment of death. You closed your eyes, waiting for the pain, wondering if you would be worthy of Valhalla, if one day Elijah would find you there.

But the blow never came.

You opened your eyes, blinking against the harsh light. But then his expression turned to shock, a pitch fork jutting out from his chest. He fell to the ground, the weapon buried deep, a gurgling sound coming from his throat. You knelt beside him, his blood seeping into your clothes. You watched the light fade from his eyes, the life leaving him.

Behind him stood a dazed Henrik, his blade bloodied, his eyes wild with rage. He grabbed Einar's sword and threw it to you, and you caught it.

You stood up, feeling dizzy, your body aching. You could taste the coppery tang of blood in your mouth, your wounds finally catching up to you.

"Henrik!" Gerda cried, throwing her arms around him, sobbing into his neck.

He wrapped his arms around her, his expression a mixture of relief and pain.

"I'm alright, Gerda," he whispered, his voice shaking. "It's over,"

They both looked at you, their eyes shining with gratitude, they both looked like they'd seen hel, their bodies covered in cuts and bruises, their faces gaunt and pale. They had seen and experienced too much, too young. You reached out, and they both embraced you, their arms wrapping around you, their tears wetting your clothes.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, "I'm so sorry,"

"You came for us," Gerda said, her voice barely audible. "That's all that matters,"

You squeezed them both, feeling the warmth of their bodies, their hearts beating, their breathing, their life.

"Come," you said, forcing yourself to stand, "let's get you both home,"

Your horse was nearby, the stallion waiting patiently, seemingly unbothered by the commotion.

You got them both on the horse, handing Henrik the reins, he wrapped his arms around Gerda, and the two of them clung to each other, their eyes filled with hope.

"Go to the forest, wait for me there," you said, giving the horse a pat, "I need to find Elijah and Niklaus,"

"My brothers are here?" Henrik asked, his eyes widening.

You nodded, "they'll help us get home,"

The stallion took off, Henrik guiding him towards the forest, the two of them fading from sight.

You headed back to the market trying to gather your thoughts, the pain and exhaustion making it hard to think. You had to find Elijah, and Niklaus.

{Part One} {Part Two} {Part Four}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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[bomber-grl]

hi could I be able to request number 8. embracing them from behind for leo valdez? or if that one's closed by the time you get to this (it's probably popular cuz it's super cute ^-^), then number 30. Laying their head on the other's shoulder also works.

My request is something with some mild angst comfort, maybe Leo is having a stressful day and sees reader turned away from him, and he decides to help himself to some behind-hugs (feel free to adapt that to 30 if that's what you use, also if you wanna switch reader and Leo's places that's cool too). thank you so much I love your writing a lot, its seriously helped me and made me smile through a rough week this week (sorry for making this super long)

Prompt #8: embracing them from behind

The week was long and tiring. You and Leo hadn’t been able to meet lately and when you did it was because of something.

Either monsters, missions, or something just going wrong.

It was a mess and in all the chaos you were finally able to find a calm and quiet place to relax: a place near the lake.

You weren’t the only one affected either, Leos usually cheery demeanor and vibrant light dimmed as exhaustion took its place.

He was really affected- actually. He was skilled and it was no wonder why he was occupied all the time.

Your thoughts stopped swarming you as you picked up on the sound of footsteps against rocks and stray sticks snapping.

It should’ve been scary, it was night but you knew whose footsteps those belonged to.

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” Leos familiar voice rang, loud in comparison to the previous silence.

“Nothing, just relaxing, I guess…” you began playing with the dirt.

Usually sounds of laughter, teasing and jokes would be heard but right now you just needed to be near each other.

He got closer and sat behind you as he wrapped his arms around your your shoulders and stuck his face into the crevice of your neck.

You let out a pathetic laugh, “you tired?”

He let out a mumbled “yea” but then stepped back from his position to stand in front of where you were seated.

Your confusion was short lived as he sat down and spoke once more.

“Can you hold me too?”

Despite the fact that you were both facing each other you somehow ended up switching positions, with you embracing him and now him being embraced.

This time, however, you were both leaning back against a stray log and he was laying in your arms.

Sand was all over the place but despite being near the lake and night, it still held the warmth of the day.

Luckily your hands weren’t a victim of the sand, and so you lifted your right one to play with his hair while your left one remained on his chest.

Mostly because Leo was holding onto it.

“Feels nice” his voice was raspy and his drooping eyes showed how truly spent he was.

“Go to bed, you’re tired ” you spoke without a second thought to your surroundings.

Worst case scenario you’ll wake up by some harpies, maybe Chiron. You’ll get teased by campers, that’s it.

Worst case because if something were to be a danger, you could defend you and Leo.

Leo finally cracked a smile and began giggling at your command. “Really?” His tone was dripping with sarcasm.

You playfully smacked his shoulder and chose to ignore it. “Yea, I’m going to sleep too I don’t care if we become the laughing stocks for a few days. As long as you’re here with me is all that matters.”

He hummed “Kay’ me too then” he yawned “ I never really cared either.

You both fell asleep near the lake and when you both awoke you were lucky and watched the sun rise.

Then scolded for not returning to your cabins last night, dish duty for you!

-

A/n: I’m glad my writing helped you and that you enjoy my posts, it makes me happy. Also don’t worry for how long it is, it’s fine :)

[frecklystars]

I fucking love Ryan Gosling in these Barbie interviews. Someone asked "hey what would Ken say in his bio on a dating app? what kind of person is he looking for?" and Ryan's like "uh... well before he even looks for a Type Of Person™, he's gotta be real up front that he's got no job... and no house... no real prospects of any sort, really, he just kinda sleeps on the beach, and -- you know what, he doesn't even have a phone? I... I don't know if he can even sign up for this app?" and Margot said "oh but he has abs. That should get him somewhere" and he said "no, no, I don't think he even has an email address, I don't think there's any way to contact him??"

and it's like three minutes of them talking about Ken not even having any pickup lines because his way of flirting isn't even flirting, it's him picking up something Barbie accidentally dropped (even though Barbie doesn't make mistakes) and saying "oh hey you dropped this 😳" and then offering it to Barbie and then when Barbie says thank you while making eye contact he's shaking and thinking "oh god what a perfect day Barbie looked at me" and then he'll ride that high the entire day. and the interviewer was like "but that isn't a pickup line" and Ryan said "no I don't... I don't think Ken does that, I think he just creates moments with Barbie and cherishes them" WHAT THE HELL SIR YOU'RE MAKING ME FALL FOR KEN EVEN MORE

[volk-swag-genitalia]

the prophetic dreams are getting much more concerning

[shotmrmiller]

need simon to be retired and living in the middle of nowhere with a car-fixing hobby, and you're pulling into his 'shop' because you were road-tripping across the country and now some funky noises are happening underneath the hood.

you tentatively walk towards the open garage, only to spot him under some run-down vehicle that has more rust than sun-faded paint, deflated tires, and a license plate that's also got rust gnawing at the edges, the numbers on it barely discernable.

you rap your knuckles gently on the weathered car, and the wheels of the creeper he's on squeak in protest under him as he rolls out to look at you, filthy gloves smearing the dust on his brow instead of wiping it away.

"err, hi. uh, i was pointed this way by some lovely folk that work in that diner down the way, and they said that you could take a look at my car."

he rises smoothly, even though his joints pop as he does, dark eyes squinting against the sun. he towers over you with broad shoulders and thick arms. a tough-as-teak country man.

you start when he speaks, deep voice echoing off of dusty walls. "they said tha', did they?" he lifts the hem of his grease-stained wife beater to wipe at the beads of sweat on his forehead, and your gaze involuntarily wanders to the thick trail of coarse, dark hair under his navel.

"what's wrong with it?"

if you knew that, you wouldn't be here, blatantly ogling him in some decrepit workshop located in a sleepy corner of the countryside. "i don't know. it's making some scary popping noises and figured that it needed to be looked at, asap."

your grimace is involuntary when he extends an oil-streaked gloved hand. you really hope he's not expecting you to-

"keys."

right. you wordlessly hand them over and walk a few steps behind him as he heads toward the front of your car. "did ya get it looked at before your trip?"

you want to snap at him, that obviously you did. you may not be some car wizard, however, you can do the bare minimum for it but he's your only hope for getting the hell out of here, so you press your tongue against the back of your teeth for a moment before answering.

"yes. i did prepare for it. got new tires, an oil change, and anything else it may have needed."

he hums at your answer, a low sound in the back of his throat, and curls his fingers under the hood and begins to feel for the release. your mind is in the gutter as your eyes linger on his sun-kissed skin, watching the tendons on his inked forearm ripple with each movement.

your mind is snapped back to reality when he mutters, "i hope ya don't think i'm doin' this for free."

"wouldn't dream of it. you don't seem the charitable type."

the latch yields under his fingertips, and the hood springs open. "i'd say i'm pretty charitable, considerin' i'm even helpin' ya with this."

your eyebrows furrow, corners of your lips pulling downward. "what, were you closed or something?"

he gives you a small smirk while his hand searches for the prop rod inside the engine bay. "do i look like a business, sweetheart?"

embarrassment burns your cheeks, and your mouth gapes unprettily as you turn around to truly take in the place. past the grease-smeared floors, there's rust blooming on the only workbench in the garage, a single red toolbox resting on the ground. there's a car jack tossed in a corner, a vibrant blue cooler by the door, and a few firearms on pegboard shelves. it looks like a simple garage. a personal one.

"oh my god," you stammer, "i'm so sorry, i just- the townsfolk, they led me to believe that you're a mechanic." how bloody mortifying.

he ducks his head under the hood, bending at the waist to lean over the engine, eyes swiftly scanning the machinery. "it's a hobby. i fix my own vehicles... and now yours, i reckon."

eventually, he turns the car on and listens to the engine roar to life before it begins to pop, standing over the open hood with thinned lips and furrowed brows.

he tells you that he can fix it, it'll just take a bit for the part to get here, obviously, so he recommends staying at a rented cabin in town for a few days— maybe even a week— and he'll give you a ride over.

he gets you there in no time, unsurprising because he drove the motorcycle far too fast— illegal, really. he helps you off the bike, your clammy hand in his much bigger, roughened one.

you rip off his helmet, pushing it into his barrel chest. "please never drive me around that fast again." he gives you a couple of pats to the shoulder, chuckling under his breath.

"unless you're plannin' on walkin' to get your car back, i can't promise tha'."

grrrreat.

(the issue was the serpentine belt, it was slightly frayed but the man kept you around for 2.5 weeks under the excuse of something taking too long, or the car being under worse condition. maybe he charges you a kidney for fixing it, and since you can't obviously pay that ridiculous amt of money, he tells you to go on a date with him. gross. or maybe he's a sane man and he just sends you on your way in 2 days time. idk. installs a gps in your car? keepin' tabs on ya cuz he plans on passing by wherever you live by complete coincidence.)

[lixzey]

lovelorn

luke castellan x daughter of apollo!reader

word count: 7004 words

summary: you and luke have been friends since the day the two of you met. you've had a crush on him since the two of you were fourteen; needless to say, he doesn't know about your feelings.

warnings?:  unrequited love, oblivious luke, jealousy, falling for your best friend, reader writes songs and plays guitar, reader lowkey hating the girl luke likes, faking, heartbreak, reader is friends with everyone and juniper the dryad, use of nicknames between reader and luke (melody and charming), swearing, will loves his sister!!, platonic chris rodriguez x reader, platonic clarisse la rue x reader, and platonic silena beauregard x reader (chris calls her sunshine, clar calls reader sunny, while silena calls her love), mention of fainting and dehydration.

a/n: take note of every little thing in this first part, because i laid clues for what's gonna happen in part two.

August by Taylor Swift is the song she sings during the camp fire.

ONE. TWO. THREE. FOUR.

You smiled as you watched your best friend teach your younger siblings how to wield swords, which was futile, as children of Apollo tend to be better at archery than sword fighting. 

But Luke was patient with your siblings, which always made you smile. Maybe it was from experience. Having a cabin full of mischievous kids tends to give experience in being patient with hyperactive children.

You were sure you could stare at him forever. Bright brown eyes full of mischief paired with a contagious, kind smile.

“Y/n, are you listening?” Dawn snapped her fingers in front of your face, pulling you out of your daze. “You’re staring at Luke again, gods, you are hopeless.”

“I wasn’t staring, Dawn,” You rolled your eyes, turning your full attention to your younger sister. “Now, what were you saying?”

“You were, you ain’t fooling me,” Dawn teased, a smirk on her lips as she leaned back against the hard stone walls of the arena. “Anyway, are we singing at the campfire tonight?”

You scowled at your younger sister, your gaze landing back onto Luke. “You’re annoying, you know that?”

“I know, but I’m still the best sibling you got,” Dawn grinned cheekily. “So, are we singing or not? Or are you just going to ogle at Luke the whole day?”

Your cheeks started to heat up, like being kissed by the sun in the early morning. “We’re going to sing, happy now?” you grumbled, averting your eyes away from the senior counselor of the Hermes cabin. 

Dawn smiled triumphantly, rising to her feet. “I think I’m going to join Lee and Michael,”

You raised a brow at her. “You’re shit with a sword.”

“Yeah, but it’s better than watching you hopelessly be in love with him,” Dawn jerked her head in Luke's direction. “Frankly, it’s nauseating.”

“Shut up,” you grumbled, rolling your eyes. 

Dawn snickered, starting to walk away. “I’ll leave you alone to daydream of Luke sweeping you off of your feet, leading you up the stairwell-”

“Shut up!” You snapped at your sister, who was still snickering.

“Is everything okay?” A voice you know oh so well spoke behind Dawn.

“Oh, it's nothing,” You quickly said before Dawn got another idea to embarrass you. “Dawn was just going to train with Lee and Michael. Right, Dawn?” You say through gritted teeth, making your sister chuckle.

“Yeah, I’ll leave the two of you to talk.” And with that, Dawn finally left, golden hair dancing in the wind.

“You okay, melody?” Luke asks, sitting beside you, concern etched on his handsome face.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” You smiled, trying to look genuine despite wanting to kiss him and run your fingers through his curls like it’s the end of the world. 

You never wanted to be in love with your best friend. You knew the consequences of it—thanks to your friends from cabin ten's constant reminders, but your stupid heart just wouldn't listen.

You've known Luke since the night he and Annabeth arrived at camp when you were fourteen. You'd been assigned by Chiron and Mr. D to tend to Luke and Annabeth’s wounds and bruises, being the head of cabin seven and the best healer camp has to offer and all.

Luke was charming, you had to give him that, charmed you into letting him attend training one first day despite not being healed properly yet. And then, half an hour later after he left the infirmary, one of your siblings brought him in—one of his wounds that you patched up, bleeding and was unconscious after insisting that he was okay minutes ago. Annoyed, you put him on bed rest. When he woke up hours later, he insisted to be let go—wanting to prove he can be better than that Ares kid he sparred with.

“Come on, doc, I’m okay now!” Luke raised his arm, but winced at the pain beneath his underarm. “See?”

“You are going to lay in that bed and you are going to rest. Doctor’s orders.” You simply said, humming a song as you checked his wounds for any infection.

“But-” 

“One more word out of you, and I’ll curse you with bubonic plague.” You said, stuffing a cube of ambrosia in his mouth, smiling sweetly at him.

Luke chuckled, raising his hands up—wincing through it—in defeat. “Alright, doctor melody.”

“What?” you asked, brow raised in confusion. “Melody?”

“You’ve been humming, you know, while fixing me and Annabeth up last night. And you did it again, just seconds ago.” Luke explained with a small smile. “Aren't the children of Apollo good at music too? Like, singing? Since he’s the god of music and all.”

“Yeah, he is,” You smiled, reaching to hold the sun shaped locket dangling from your neck. “Apollo, god of the sun, archery, art, music, poetry and a shit ton more.”

“Can you sing for me, melody?” Luke grinned, sitting up. “C’mon, it’ll make me feel better, promise.”

“I’m not gonna get out of this, am I?” You ask, laughing softly.

Luke shook his head. “I’m stubborn, I’ll just ask you again and again, so you might as well do it now, melody.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling. “Aren’t you just charming,”

“I’m waiting, doc,” Luke teased. “I can’t wait for an eternity like the gods.”

You shook your head, a giggle escaping your lips. “Fine, fine, but do you promise to rest your stubborn ass for the night?”

Luke nodded. “Yes, ma’am!”

“Okay, here goes nothing,” You muttered, taking a deep breath. “And they called it puppy love. Oh I guess they'll never know.

How a young heart really feels and why I love him so…”

Luke started clapping his hands. “Damn, melody, that was amazing!”

“Oh, shush,” You waved a hand dismissively, feeling your cheeks heat up like the sun, as if your dad kissed you on the cheek. “I’m not that good.”

Luke raised a brow. “And I thought Apollo was the god of truth,”

“I am telling the truth,” You insisted, folding your arms over your chest.

“Whatever you say, melody.”

From then on, you and Luke have been friends. Never one without the other, the two of you made it a pact. 

“Michael and Lee are getting better with swords,” Luke commented as the two of you watched your younger siblings.

“Better?” You snorted, tying your hair up in a ponytail. “They are far from getting better, charming.”

Luke reached up to mess your hair. “You saying my methods aren’t great, miss melody?” he asked, feigning annoyance.

You hit him playfully on the shoulder. “All I’m saying is those kids,” you jerked your head to Michael and Lee, who were getting ready to duel like medieval princes as Dawn laughed her ass off. “Are shit with a sword.”

“Fair point,” Luke chuckled. “Let’s just hope they learned a thing or two from me.”

“If not?” You asked with a raised brow, passing him a bottle of strawberry flavored energy drink. Your hand grazed with his, sending shivers down your spine, better than any cold could. 

“At least they have you,” Luke gave you a lopsided grin, opening the bottle of red sugary liquid and bringing it to his lips to quench his thirst. You could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he downed the energy drink, the beads of sweat on his forehead and neck made him even—if possible—more handsome, making you gulp and look away.

“Yeah,” You squeaked out, your eyes widening at the tone of your voice, mentally slapping yourself for it. “They’ve got the best sister.”

“Damn right, they do,” Luke agreed, capping the now empty bottle. “You are the best sister Lee, Michael, Dawn, and the rest of your siblings could have, melody.”

You smiled, pushing out a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. “Thanks, charming,”

“No need to thank me, melody. I mean, it is the truth. That you are the best sister to your siblings and bestest friend to me.”

You felt your heart break a little. You wanted to be more than just being best friends with Luke. You wanted to be his muse, the girl he loves until his final breath. Maybe Aphrodite had cursed you or something, because Luke never saw you more than a friend or a sister.

“I’m the best,” You agreed, trying your best not to sound sad or anything about your feelings for him slip out.

“You hungry? I think it’s lunch time.”

You nodded, fixing your hair back up in a ponytail. “Yeah, you?”

“Starving, like I could eat a pegasus. Come on, let’s get some lunch and eat by the docks.” Luke stood up, stretching his arms and legs. “You comin’?” He asked, offering his hand to help you stand. 

“Of course,” You beamed, reaching for his hand. “Let’s.”

You followed Luke out of the arena, before yelling over your shoulder. “Dawn, you’re in charge of the boys! Don’t let them die!”

“Yeah, Dawn! Don’t let ‘em die!” Luke yelled over to Dawn with a laugh as the two of you strolled away, leaving your siblings and a few other campers at the arena.

“Race you to the mess?” You challenged, a teasing grin on your face.

“Not fair, Y/n!” Luke scowled as you started to run ahead. “I just trained kids!”

“Too bad, Lukey,” You stuck out your tongue at him. “Last one there cleans the stables!” 

“Oh no, you don’t!” Luke scoffed as you ran ahead of him, laughing as he easily caught up to you. “I’m not cleaning the stables!” He said, lifting you up with his strong arms and placing you on his shoulder, making you yelp.

“Put me down!” You giggled, playfully hitting his toned back.

“I don’t think so, Miss L/n,” Luke then ran towards the dining pavilion, with you still on his shoulder, screaming like an enraged harpy.

“Luke Castellan!” You shrieked, gripping his shirt for dear life, earning the amused looks of other campers. “Put me down, put me down!”

“Your voice sounds better when you aren’t screaming, you know that?” Luke commented, his pace slowing to a brisk walk.

You hit him hard on his back, again and again. “Put me down, Castellan! Now!”

“Ouch, woman, that hurt!” Luke grumbled, finally relenting and putting you down on the ground, just a meter away from the pavilion.

You pinched him on the side. “You son of a bitch!”

“Ouch!” Luke yelped, jumping slightly. “Violence is never the answer, woman!”

“Violence is never the answer,” You mocked him, rolling your eyes. “I’ll do whatever the hell I want, thank you very much.”

“Fine, fine, let’s just get food,” Luke placed his hands on his hips, catching his breath for a minute. “All that running with you on my shoulder got me extra hungry.”

“You’re the one who lifted me like I don’t weigh a thing!” You retorted, pushed him slightly. “I literally weigh like a minotaur!”

“Nah,” Luke dismissed, slinging his arm over your shoulders. “You don’t weigh that much. Stop thinking that you are.”

“Whatever,” you grumbled, making your way to the long table where all the food the dryads made for the day are served.

An array of food greets you as soon as you arrive at the table, Luke two steps behind you. There were bowls of fruit—strawberries, apples, and grapes—bread in all sorts of shapes and sizes, a container of mac and cheese (which you know has broccoli and carrots blended in to sneak vegetables in picky eaters’ food), and some other options.

“Look, there’s some waffles and pancakes,” Luke pointed to a platter of said breakfast items beside some yogurt parfaits and (tofu) sausage.

“You go get the waffles and pancakes along with some yogurt and ask Lily for some extra,” You pointed to the yellow haired dryad, Lily. “I'll go get the fruit and bread. You want some mac?”

“Nope.” Luke said, already making his way to the waffles and pancakes. 

You chuckled, shaking your head before heading over to Juniper, a red haired dryad in charge of the fruit and bread.

“Hey, Junie,” You greeted, smiling at the dryad. “Got something for me?”

“Just these,” Juniper pointed to the array of pastries and bread. “Mr. D allowed the Demeter kids to get some croissants and tarts from a bakery in Manhattan.”

“Oooh,” Your mouth was already watering as you eyed the lemon and blueberry tart and those flaky croissants. “Can you put some in a picnic basket? Luke and I are going on a picnic by the docks.”

Juniper smiled brightly. “Are you and Luke going out on a date?”

You choked on your own saliva. “What?”

“You know, have you told him about your feelings yet? Are you boyfriend and girlfriend now? That’s what boyfriend and girlfriend do, right? Dates?”

“Shh!” You quickly shushed your friend. “No, I haven’t told him yet! He doesn’t know!”

Juniper frowned. “It’s so obvious you like him,”

“He’s stupid, I know.” You sighed, picking up a strawberry.

“Your siblings and those Aphrodite kids figured out you liked him years ago.” Juniper said as she filled up a picnic basket with tarts and croissants along with strawberries, grapes, and apples.

“Maybe one day,” You smiled, a hopeful look in your eyes. “When Aphrodite decides to reward me with a perfect love life.”

“I’ll pray to Aphrodite for you,” Juniper smiled, boosting your confidence up. “You deserve to be loved.”

“Thanks, Junie.”

“No worries, your secret is safe with me.” Juniper chuckled, she then passed you the picnic basket filled with food, looking almost like a cornucopia. “Here you go, packed and loaded for a picnic.”

You gave Juniper a grateful nod, mouthing a quick thank you before turning to go and find Luke, the picnic basket locked in both of your hands.

You walk towards Lily the dryad’s station, but Luke wasn’t there anymore. Instead, you walked around the large dining area, eyes scanning the place for your curly haired best friend.

When you finally spot him, your heart sinks.

Luke was talking and laughing with a girl. A girl you know to be a child of Athena, a sister of Annabeth Chase.

You felt the picnic basket in your hands grow heavy, along with your heart feeling like it’s slowly sinking into a bottomless pit.

Lacy Matthews—pretty, smart, beautiful, kind, stunning, intelligent. 

Nothing like me.

Luke leaned on one of the pillars of the pavilion, eyes steady on Lacy as she discussed with him about something—probably architecture, like Annabeth would always ramble to you.

Hair gold as the sun, eyes gray as stormy clouds, skin like puff pastry, and a mind sharp as blade, no wonder Luke would like her.

You contemplate, whether you walk to Luke and disturb his talk with Lacy, or just walk to the docks alone and eat the food Juniper packed as you cry your heart out. Maybe pray to Aphrodite while you’re at it. 

You sigh, taking a very deep breath, before making your way to them with shaking hands.

“Luke?” You ask as soon as you’re in earshot. “You ready for the docks?”

Lacy looks at you first, smiling sweetly at you. “Oh, hi Y/n! How are you?”

You stood there, silent for a minute. Feeling a myriad of feelings all at once, taking you over like a spirit. “I’m….okay.” you answer after what felt like eons.

“Your skin hair looks amazing,” Lacy compliments you, but it feels more like bullets on skin. “I wish I had your hair.”

You give her a tight smile, turning your attention to Luke. “Docks?” you ask, hoping he’d get the gist of it. 

“Oh, Y/n,” Luke scratches the back of his head, your heart breaking another of its pieces at the mention of your name. He always calls you melody, your name feels like poison out of his lips. “Can we take a rain check? Lacy and Annabeth need help with cleaning cabin six, you know, books.”

“Tonight, then?” You ask with a shaky breath. “After the bonfire?”

“Tomorrow, l guess?” 

“Uh, yeah, sure. No problem. I’ll see you? I guess.”

You quickly turned around, the basket of fruits and pastries still in your shaking hands as you made a beeline towards the nearest exit, your heart beating fast like pegasi galloping in the wind. Your eyes stinging like a fresh cut you wanted to just drown in antiseptic.

“Y/n?” You heard a small voice from behind, you whipped your head to see your little brother, Will Solace. “I cut my hand on a sword.” he mumbles, lower lip shaking like yours.

You kneel to his level, the basket still in your hands like they had their own minds, refusing to let it go—maybe hoping that Luke would reconsider and go with you to the docks instead, but you knew deep inside that it was a long shot.

“Okay,” your voice was hoarse, as if there were thorns blocking the back of your throat. “Let’s get you fixed, is that alright?”

Will nodded, blonde hair falling into his face, blue eyes hiding underneath them, making you chuckle. At least I have something else to think about for the meantime.

“Come on,” You reach your hand out for Will to take. “Let’s get some cute band aids for that cut.”

Crying on the docks would have to wait.

Will takes your hand as the two of you head to cabin seven where you keep a box of medical supplies just in case. You didn’t feel like going to the Infirmary, you were just too tired to do so.

“Why are you sad, sissy?” Will asks, big innocent blue eyes looking up at you.

“It’s nothing, I just have dry eyes. Think I need some eye drops.” You answered the younger boy, trying not to be, well, sad.

“I can feel that you’re sad, you don’t have to lie to me, sissy.” You look at your brother, how in Apollo’s name did he know? He was only seven, and wasn't even trained properly yet.

You sighed, pushing out the hair from Will’s face. “I’m just bummed.” you answered honestly, at least you tried to.

“Why?” He asks further. “Maybe I can help.”

You took a deep breath. How do you explain to a child that you are sad and hurt because the boy you like chose a girl over you, his best friend. “I’ll tell you when we get to our cabin, alright?”

“Okay,” Will agreed. “I’m gonna do my best to help you sissy!”

You tried suppressing a laugh, but failed miserably. Will was like a literal ball of sunshine. Since he arrived at camp a little over a year ago, he’d become a beacon of hope for you. You’d cling to your little brother when shit goes wrong for comfort, and he did the same, it was like you had an empathy link with him.

As soon as the two of you stepped onto cabin seven’s premises, you let Will run to his bed—he wanted to get the macaroni bracelet he made you—while you went to get your medical supplies.

“Look, sissy! I made this for you! I made one for Dawn too, and Lee and Michael!” Will excitedly showed you a blue and yellow colored macaroni bracelet. “Do you like it?”

You smiled, kissing the top of his head. “I love it,” You slipped the bracelet onto your wrist. “I’ll never take it off.” you promised the little boy—who was smiling from ear to ear.

“Okay, so are you gonna tell me now why you’re sad?” Will asked, straight to the point like an arrow through a bullseye.

You sighed, rolling your eyes playfully as you dug through your medical kit for some bandaids. “Luke and I planned earlier that we’d head to the docks to have a little picnic, but last minute…he, uh…”

“He what?” Will pushes further, peeking as you went through looking for your medical kit.

“He kinda ditched me? I don’t know if that’s the appropriate word, but instead of going with the original plan, he asked for a raincheck to go and help Lacy from cabin six clean out their cabin.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Will looked up at you as you poured antiseptic on a cotton ball, wiping it on his cut. “He’s helping others.”

“Oh, sweet baby boy,” You sighed, remembering that Will was still a child. “I like Luke—no, maybe I love him at this point. And I’m sad because I’m jealous and he chose to be with her after he asked me to a picnic that I was looking forward to, because I wanted to spend time with him.” You took a deep breath. “Even if I didn’t have romantic feelings for him, it still hurt because he picked her over me, he was my best friend first before everything.”

“What do you want to do?”

“What do you mean?” You ask, brow raised as you placed a bandaid on the cut.

“Are you mad at Luke? Do you wanna prank him because you are? Or curse him to be sick for a week?” 

“William Andrew Solace!” You chastised, shocked at what he had suggested.

“What? He hurt you, he deserves it.”

“He hurt me, yes, but he does not deserve any of what you suggested, William.”

“He hurt my best big sissy, so he deserves it.” Will muttered under his breath.

“William,” You sighed, tucking behind a strand of your hair behind your ear. “What he did was wrong, as a friend. But I don’t have any right to be angry at him for liking Lacy, I’m just his friend, nothing more.”

Will’s face softened. “You deserve everything, sissy,” he then reached up, placing each of his hands on both of your cheeks. “You are the best sister in the whole world. You deserve to be loved, like the way you love me and everyone else.”

You smiled, tears stinging the corner of your eyes, your heart swelling with love from your little brother. You may not have the love of the boy you loved, at least you had your brother’s making up for it, masking up the heartbreak, even just for a little while. 

“Alright,” You wiped away a single tear. “You’re all fixed.” you pat him on the cheek, wiping the sweat away on his forehead. 

“I love you, sissy!” Will says as he wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you too, kiddo,” You chuckle, ruffling his blonde curls, kissing his forehead. “Go find Dawn, she’s at the arena. Watch Lee and Michael duel like idiots. Don’t tell them I told you that.”

Will nodded enthusiastically, before sprinting out of cabin seven. “See you later, sissy!”

You let out a shaky laugh, feeling the loneliness eat you up as quick as it left. Your eyes landed onto the basket with food still packed for two.

Luke still wasn’t going with you down to the docks.

You choked back a sob, grabbing the basket and your guitar and notebook from your bed before heading out to the docks. You might as well kill time until the bonfire, alone with your breaking heart.

You didn’t stop at anyone, walking straight to the beach with your guitar strapped onto your back and the basket wrapped between your arms. You just didn’t have the will to talk to anyone, even your friends and siblings.

The salty smell of the sea breeze infiltrated your senses as you approached the beach, the docks that you and Luke always hung out at nearing  your view. You took a deep breath, letting the soft breeze take over you as you stepped onto the wooden platform, the waves crashing beneath it. You set down the basket, sitting beside it as you pulled your guitar to the front, your fingers lightly strumming a little tune—one you knew like the back of your hand, the song Luke always asked you to play.

“'Cause if one day you wake up and find that you're missing me and your heart starts to wonder where on this earth I could be,” You sang, trying your hardest not to just break down despite the tears you had been pushing back were threatening to spill. “Thinking maybe you'll come back here to the place that we'd meet and you'll see me waiting for you on the corner of the street,” you sniffled softly. “So I'm not moving, I'm not moving.”

You can’t help but wonder what would Luke do when you leave camp for good. Would he be sad? That you, his best friend, gone with the wind? Or would he ask you to stay?

You wished that you didn’t know the answers to your own questions your own damn mind plagues you with. You wished that he knew he was all that you think about every goddamn night, that he was the reason for those teardrops on your guitar, that he was the only thing that kept you wishing on a wishing star. 

You sighed, grabbing your blue notebook that you had slid inside the basket and the pen you had packed alongside it. You needed to let it out, even just on another tear streaked paper.

You hummed a little melody as you continued to write what you felt, your chest burning with untold stories.

“Hey, sunshine,” You heard a voice call from behind you, whipping your head around almost immediately, nearly dropping your notebook into the sea.

“Chris,” You gave him a small smile, adjusting the strap of your guitar.

“Mind if I join you?” Chris asks, walking closer to you but stops a few steps from you with a grin plastered on his face.

You quickly closed your notebook, stuffing it in the picnic basket. “I don’t mind,” You scooted to the side to give him some space to sit, your hair blowing in the gentle sea breeze. 

Chris nods at you, making his way to the vacant spot beside you. “So, what are you up to?” he asks, leaning slightly back. “You weren’t at archery practice earlier.”

You shrugged your shoulders slightly. “Just wanted some time alone, I guess.” you turn to look at the basket sitting unopened beside you, wondering if you should offer Chris one of the pastries. “What about you?”

“Luke,” Chris chuckles, he rolls his eyes with a shake of his head. “Can’t stand him making out with Lacy in cabin eleven.”

“Oh.” You say, the pain and sadness slipping out in your voice, your heart, now broken completely as another fresh set of tears threatens to spill. “Well, good…good for him.”

Chris raises a brow at you, noticing the tremble in your voice. “You okay?”

“I’m okay,” You lied, wiping away the tears that spilled from your eyes, hoping Chris wouldn’t notice. “Do…do you want, uh, a croissant?”

“You are not okay,” Chris says, pulling your hand away from your face. “You’re crying, what’s wrong?”

“No, no, it’s nothing,” You sniffled, trying to assure him that you were alright, but he wasn’t believing any of your attempts to cover up what you were feeling.

“C’mon, you can tell me,” Chris tells you with a soft smile. “I won’t tell anyone, promise.”

You turn to look at him, your eyes now red and puffy, tears still streaming down. You felt numb, broken, and empty. You didn’t have the words to try and tell what was happening inside your heart and mind. All you could see, against your will, was the image of Luke kissing Lacy.

You wanted to scream, you wanted to jump onto your feet and storm over to Luke and hit him for hurting you this much, and you even wanted to just jump into the ocean and let the salty water fill up your lungs so you couldn’t breathe the same air as them.

“You like him, don’t you?” Chris asks, his smile fading.

You blink back your tears, Chris’ words echoing in your head. “I love him.” you whimper, wiping your tears away.

Chris sighs, scooting closer to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “I knew it, I figured you liked him years ago. I’ve known you and Luke long enough to know how different your looks at each other are.”

You lay your head onto his shoulder, your tears spilling still as you silently sobbed. “It’s not fair,” you mumble out. “It’s not fucking fair.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, let it all out, it’s okay.” Chris soothes, rubbing your shoulder to comfort you. “You’re hurt, you deserve to cry.”

“Am I ugly? Unlovable?” You ask with a shaky breath.

“Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” Chris cups your tear streaked face in his hands. “You are not unlovable. You’re the kindest, most selfless, and loving person out there. You help everyone in need, you make people smile, and don’t get me started with how your music makes everyone feel. How would that make you unlovable? You are very lovable. You are loved, your siblings, your friends, everyone.” 

Chris pushes strands of your hair away from your face. “And you are most certainly not ugly. You are beautiful. You are beautiful like the sun, like a sunflower, especially when you smile—radiating beauty like rays of sunshine. Luke is too fucking stupid to not realize how lucky he is to have you loving him.”

“The boy who I love is now in love with someone else,” You murmur, moving your head out of Chris’ hand, closing your eyes. “He’s the only one who's got enough of me to break my heart.”

“It’s his loss, not yours.” Chris says, rubbing circles around your back. “He’s a fucking idiot, for hurting you. Even if he doesn’t know.”

“She’s pretty, I’m n-” 

“Stop it, stop,” Chris cuts you off. “You are beautiful, pretty, stunning, dazzling, whatever the hell you want to call it. Don’t you dare compare yourself to her, you are far better than her. She’s beauty and brains, but you? Beauty, brains, talent, and a big heart.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” You hiccup, wiping your tears away.

Chris scoffs playfully, shoving you slightly. “I’m trying to comfort you, woman.”

“Thanks,” You chuckle, moving your hand to the basket beside you. “Want a croissant?”

“Eating your sorrows away, huh?”

You rolled your still red and puffy eyes at him. “I’ve got a basket full of it,” You explained, bringing the basket onto your lap and opening it, the smell of the pastries mixing with the salty ocean breeze. “Luke and I planned to eat these here, but bailed on me to help Lacy.”

“That son of a bitch,” Chris grumbles, reaching for a croissant. “Wasting food and bailing on his best friend.”

“I mean, Hermes is a bitch,” You snort, picking a blueberry tart up. “So, technically…”

“Yeah, well,” Chris bites into his croissant, crumbles falling into his lap. “I’m not one to dump my best friend for a girl.”

“Not even for Clarisse?” You ask, a teasing smirk on your lips.

“Clarisse would beat me into a pulp if I did.” 

You smile at Chris. “Thanks for being here, even by chance.”

“I’ll always be here for you, sunshine,” Chris ruffles your hair, making you laugh. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Thank you for making me feel important,” You took a deep breath. “I needed that.”

“You are important, never think that you aren’t.” Chris gives you an assuring smile. “So, is the tart good?” 

You let out a giggle, your eyes going to the tart in your hands. “I think so,” You raise the blueberry tart to your lips for a bite, your eyes lighting up. “Mmm, gods this is good!”

Chris laughs at your reaction. “Good, huh?”

You nod, licking your lips. “It’s divine, better than cookies!” You say, taking another bite. “This is my new favorite dessert!”

“There’s the sunshine I know,” Chris chuckles, an amused look in his eyes. “The light in everyone’s lives.”

“Now you’re just fueling my ego,” You giggle, reaching for another tart.

“It’s true,” Chris insists. “Ask anyone—except Luke, ‘cause he’s an idiot—and they’ll say the same things I told you.”

You roll your eyes playfully, raising your hands in defeat. “Fine, fine,” You say through a bite of your tart. “You win.”

“I’m amazing,” Chris says with a cocky smile. “The best, even.” 

You groaned playfully. “Note to self, never tell Chris Rodriguez he’s right.”

“Hey!”

You burst out laughing, nearly falling off of the dock as you leaned forward if Chris hadn’t grabbed your arm. “Sorry,” You say through fits of laughter, the sadness and hurt you felt just moments ago, fluttering away. “You get…wait,” you wheeze out, clutching your stomach. “So cocky when someone tells you you’re right, but you end up looking constipated!”

Chris gasped, feigning offense. “Take that back!”

You shook your head, laughter still coming out of your lips. “Never!”

“I hate you,“ Chris fake grumbles, an amused look twinkling in his eyes. “You’re a meanie!”

You burst out laughing, again

“Yeah, go ahead and laugh your ass off, sunshine,” Chris shoves you playfully. “It’s the best medicine out there!”

Out of breath, cheeks flushed, you leaned flat against the wood platform. “Chest hurts,” You wheezed, though still smiling.

“Well, you did laugh like a fuckin’ lunatic, sunshine.”

“How am I going to sing at the bonfire tonight?” You say through breaths, mentally kicking yourself for not bringing any water—despite being surrounded by it.

“You can do it,” Chris assured you as he laid beside you, leaving enough space that you’re not uncomfortable. “I know you can. You’re camp’s best singer, you can’t fuck up the best thing you’re good at.”

“You think so?”

“You’ve been singing for as long as we’ve been friends, sunshine,” Chris yawns, stretching his arms up. “Pretty sure, you’re gonna nail this, like you always do.

You were regretting your decision to come to the bonfire.

Here you were, sitting beside your siblings, across Luke and Lacy—arms linked together like they’d perish if they didn’t. 

The mere sight of them shamelessly flirting made you want to vomit everything you ate, and maybe even your brains out. It was sickening, how Luke smiles as Lacy whispers something into his ear, her delicate fingers around his biceps.

You wanted to walk up to him and drag him by the ribbon on his left arm—which was one of Lacy’s probably, watch him burn into ashes, but decided against it. Because, one) Hestia wouldn’t approve of it, two) well, he’s still the love of your life and best friend.

It was torture for you, watching them be happy. It makes you wonder, how the hell did they get that close. They had started talking just hours ago, but now? They looked like lovers reunited after the war.

What was so special about her? You ask yourself again, even though you knew the goddamn answer. Smart, sexy, Lacy. God, she was making you crazy. Dazzling starlet, like a Bardot reincarnate. And then there you were—messy hair, paint stains everywhere, guitar string marks, flab on your belly and arms, band aids in your pockets, basically nothing like her. 

Luke looks at her as if she was the sweetest thing on this side of hell, like she was the greatest thing to ever exist in this world. 

Like ribbons in her blonde hair, your stomach was all in knots. She’s got the one thing that you ever wanted, wrapped around her finger without even trying. 

The fire continued to burn golden-orange flames as your siblings led the song Down by the Aegean, everyone was happy and content, except for you.

Jealousy lingered around you like a moth drawn to the flame. Making it hard for you to concentrate on anything else aside from Lacy laying her head on Luke’s shoulder as he toasted marshmallows for both of them. The thought of them plagued your mind, despite trying everything to keep it away from your thoughts.

Stupid brain, stupid heart, stupid Luke, stupid Lacy, stupid love.

“Hey, sis?” A voice snapped you out of your insecure thoughts. You looked up to see Lee standing just a few inches to your right, looking at you with concern. “You okay?” He asks, his voice laced with worry. You then realized that everyone had stopped singing, and all eyes were on you—except those lovebirds who were making googly eyes at each other, as if they were the only person left on this damned world.

“Uh, yeah, I’m okay.” You say through gritted teeth, hoping no one would notice.

“It’s time for your special song, sissy.” Will nudges you from your left side.

Oh. You thought. They were waiting for you.

“Oh, right,” You chuckled nervously, reaching for your guitar from Dawn.

You didn’t know what to sing. All the thoughts and memories in your head seem to have faded into dust.

You shakily strum a chord on your guitar, your fingers gliding over the metal strings. The guitar was a gift from your dad, enchanted to play whatever you had in mind with just a few strums of your fingers. 

You sigh, letting your fingers do all the work, hoping you could give the people around you your best. 

I can see us lost in the memory,

August slipped away into a moment in time

‘Cause it was never mine. 

And I can see us twisted in bed sheets, 

August sipped away.

Like a bottle of wine 'cause you were never mine,

You sang, the words coming out of your lips so naturally, all of what you felt pouring out like water. You saw the sympathetic eyes of your friends from the other cabins—the ones who knew about your feelings for Luke.

Your siblings were trying their best not to give you the biggest hug in the whole world, especially Will, who was sitting beside you. 

Some were confused as to why you were singing about some boy because you’ve never done it before. They hadn’t thought that you had feelings, too. 

Back when we were still changing for the better

Wanting was enough

For me, it was enough

“Shit,” You heard someone curse from cabin nine. “The fire’s blue!”

You look up, blazing blue, meeting your eyes. Hestia’s fire had never burned blue before.

“Beckendorf, this isn’t funny!” Someone yells in the background, amongst the whispers.

“We’re not doing…..anything,” Beckendorf trails off, as if he had been silenced all of a sudden.

To everyone’s surprise, the blue—almost black—flames burning in the firepit started to get bigger and bigger, as if they were swaying to the tune as you played.

To live for the hope of it all

Cancel plans just in case you'd call

And say "Meet me behind the mall"

And finally, as you finished up the song, from the corner of your eyes, a sore sight to behold. Luke and Lacy were making out, and they couldn’t have waited to even be out of sight—barely a meter away—before devouring each other’s faces.

So much for summer love and saying "us"

'Cause you weren't mine to lose

You weren't mine to lose, no

You weren't mine to lose.

Luke grabs Lacy’s waist, pulling her closer. They looked happy, and it was tearing you apart. They were killing you slowly, like a dagger was lodged in your throat, and they were twisting it. 

Cause you were never mine, never mine…

You felt tears filling your eyes like a dam, and anytime was ready to explode. But, forced them back down—at least, you tried to—hoping to save a little more dignity for your name.

Lacy has everything that you have to live without. She should hold him tight, and give him all her love. Look at him straight in those beautiful brown eyes and know she's lucky because Luke was your everything—your life, your world, everything. 

As the image of them faded from your peripheral view, you stared into the blazing fire in front of you. Now, red, blue, and black flames were dancing together, almost as if Hestia could feel what you were feeling.

You sigh, placing the guitar down, feeling arms wrap around you. You look up, seeing Chris, camp necklace dangling from his neck. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he murmurs, rubbing both of your shoulders.

“You want me to put his head on my spear, Sunny?” Clarisse asks, sitting opposite of Will. “One word from you, and I’ll skewer him.”

“You’re overwhelming her, Clar,” Chris says. “You don’t deserve this, sunshine. Yet, he doesn’t deserve you.”

“Do you want to spend the night with us, love?” Silena asks from beside Clarisse. “A little girls' night could help.”

You shake your head, the tears you’ve pushed aside spilling like an opened dam. “I’m okay,” you say, clearly lying. You knew your friends could always see through your lies.

“Come on, let’s take her to seven. She needs rest.” Your brother, Lee, interrupts. “She looks dehydrated; why the fuck is she dehydrated?”

“Language,” you weakly say, the view of the fire blurring. “Swearing, s’bad.” 

“And delirious,” Dawn mutters beside Lee, holding Will close to her.

Before you could retort a reply, your vision slowly went dark, and faint voices were screaming before you completely passed out. 

Luke was immediately jolted awake from his honeymoon daze by the sounds of frantic screams and yells, just a few steps away from him and Lacy.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Lacy asks, her delicate hands cupping his face, lips swollen from kissing just a few seconds ago.

“You heard that?” Luke asks, pushing her slightly to the side. “I heard screami-”

Luke cuts himself off at what he sees.

Chris is sprinting to the Big House with you, unconscious in his arms. Luke’s heart starts to beat rapidly—faster than ever before—as his legs subconsciously take him in your direction.

“Melody.”

Lacy stands there as Luke makes his way to you, huffing and arms crossed in annoyance. “What the hell, Luke!?” She yells after him, but it’s like he hears nothing. 

taglist:

@lilmaymayy @mischiefmoons @m00ng4z3r @woodlandwrites @sflame15-blog @the-sylver-dragon @ceruleansx @evsolostheuniverse @patitotodd @jennapancake @kur0m1sblog @emryb @onecojg @caramelandvenus @y0urm0m12 @hottiewifeyyyy @7s3ven @atashiboba

[bookofbonbon]

green is not your colour (1) - coriolanus snow.

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader.

Warning: Implied cheating.

Summary: You've been engaged to Coriolanus Snow for a few short weeks and have been living together for even shorter but, the betrothal is put through its first test when Coriolanus's affair makes itself known. Part (1/2).

Wordcount: 1.3k.

A/N: This takes place in the 'You Keep Him There' universe. A couple of months before Christmas Kiss. Please tell me you catch the Yellowstone reference.

11 months ago.

The stone bench cuts into the skin of your exposed thigh, one leg crossed over the other as your arm rests along the back of the garden seat. Goosebumps cover the length of your body; remnants of last night’s cold snap are still evident as the icy blanket that covers the Manor’s grounds slowly melt away with the slow rising sun. 

Of course, the cold was of no concern. Not when you had your new found habit to keep you warm. 

Taking a drag from the lit cigarette between your fingers, your gaze is unwavering as you stare down the anxious chauffeur who had pulled into the driveway of your new home at the same time that you did - belonging neither to you or Coriolanus.

It had taken you all of 30 seconds to piece together what was going on and who the car belonged to - after all, you weren’t supposed to be home until the afternoon. You aren’t surprised Coriolanus would do this but, it doesn’t make it hurt any less; doesn’t temper the green eyed monster threatening to rear its ugly head.

Sure, you didn’t like him but, the two of you had known each other your entire lives; would marry in less than a year, he belonged to you- you'd hoped those things would at least mean something to him too but, it doesn’t and again, that doesn’t surprise you but, you are disappointed. Disappointed that he would bring this into your home.

The chauffeur fiddles with the cuffs of his sleeves, unsure of where to look as his gaze shifts nervously between you and the front doors until finally, they open and he relaxes slightly, eager to escape the weight of your stare as he wrenches the car door open for his passenger. 

You watch, hidden from their view as she emerges from your home, bidding farewell to your fiance. Crushing the cigarette, you wait until she’s about to enter the car to make your presence known. 

“I always suspected there may be something more between the two of you but, to become his mistress?” You stand, making your way over to her. 

Stopping a metre out, you drag your gaze lazily over her figure until you meet her own surprised one. 

“My, my, Clemensia, I never expected that from you,” you tut. “Although, I won’t lie. After your… stint in the hospital back in our academy days, I didn’t think he’d ever look at you again.” 

She flinches at your words but it doesn’t keep her down for long. The red-eyed, puffy-cheeked beauty straightening her back and puffing her chest with an air of arrogance that you did not appreciate. 

“What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” you repeat, laughing at the nerve of her. “Clemensia, this is my house. I can come and go as I please but, you? Well, we are going to have a problem if I see you around here again.”

"You can't stop me. He was mine first."

You take an intimidating step closer. 

“You want to sleep with Coriolanus? Fine. That’s your choice but, not in my house. Affairs are for hotels not homes, and if you ever step foot in mine again, I will make sure you never take another step again. Got it?”

She swallows thickly but nods her understanding. 

"Good. Now get off of my property before, I have you removed from it."

You don’t wait for her to go, sights immediately set on the fool you were to take as your husband in less than a year.

“Coriolanus,” you yell, throwing the doors open, anger finally revealing itself. “Coriolanus!”

You find him sitting at the head of the dining table, looking equally as surprised as his whore to see you. Unlike her however, he’s quick to hide it. 

“When did you-”

“You keep your whores out of my house, Coriolanus,” you warn him. “You keep your whores out of my house or I will teach you a lesson that I promise you will never forget.”

-

You spend the rest of the day sleeping, too tired from the morning's events and traveling to do anything else but rest, so it’s dark out by the time you leave your room. 

Padding down the staircase, your tummy makes its hunger known, growling out for anyone awake to hear. Sleepily, you make your way to the kitchen, not noticing the dim light emitting from the space until you're already inside with an unwanted guest. 

You look at him for a moment, thinking about whether to tuck tail and turn away or continue on your journey for food- your stomach makes your decision for you however, when it growls again. 

Coriolanus is the first to speak. “There's a plate in the fridge for you.” 

You don’t acknowledge him, opening the fridge in silence and indeed finding the plate of food inside. You pretend he’s not there as you move around the kitchen to warm your food up. When everything is ready, you take a seat at the kitchen bench- it’s then that Coriolanus decides to speak again.

“I think we should talk about this morning.”

“We have,” you answer him, tone clipped. “And I told you not to bring your whores into my house again.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

You breathe a laugh of disbelief. Was it not enough to discover what you did this morning now, he wanted to discuss it too? Picking up your plate, you make to leave- there were other rooms in this place that you could eat peacefully in. 

“It’s over-” he follows after you, blocking your path. “Me and Clemmie. I ended things with her.”

“Clemmie,” you scoff the name. “How very considerate of you. Does she know that?”

“She does and I didn’t end it because of what happened this morning- I ended things weeks ago. She’s just having a hard time letting go but, I promise it is. I’m with you.”

You pause- pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You should’ve ended it months ago, well before we even got engaged.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” 

You nod but don't forgive him and he uses your silence to keep talking. 

“I want to make this work, I want us to get along, I want-” he hesitates, taking your free hand. “I want you to like me.” 

“What makes you think I don’t?”

“You made it very clear in the Academy that you don’t, I doubt your opinion of me has changed much since.” 

You smile bitterly down at your joined hands. Your dislike for Coriolanus in school differed vastly from why you disliked him now.  

You wonder if it would ever be possible to like Coriolanus Snow now. 

It was hard to see the possibility when your entire being now depended on marrying him. Your grandparents had already loved him, he was Old Guard, cut from the same cloth and as he got older, they saw the future in Coriolanus Snow, future president of Panem. And that was before the proposal was even brought to them. Once it was… they would be damned if you married anyone else. When you attempted to go against it, they had made it known that they were more than willing to reduce you to nothing; taking steps to ensure you couldn’t refuse by hinging your inheritance of the Blizzard Telecommunications and Mass Media Empire and wealth on marrying him. Coriolanus Snow had snatched any freedom or hope for the future you envisioned for yourself away from you and he didn’t even know it. 

Maybe one day you’d move past it or maybe one day he'd accept that you never would but, for now you settle for “maybe you can start with buying me a new house.”

Coriolanus chuckles but you're being serious and he agrees, "soon."

“And Coriolanus?”

“Yeah?”

“I don't ever want to see you with Clemensia Dovecote again. I don’t take kindly to those who you would threaten to take what is mine. Green is not my colour and, I promise you won’t like seeing me in it either.”

-

All fics are my own work - I have not posted my work anywhere else.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

bookofbonbon 2024. All rights reserved.

[kissingchoso]

i’m so into the thought of your “best friend” just pressing you into the bed, making out with you.

it starts off as a slow afternoon. the sun was shining directly into your room with a nice summer breeze entering through the crack of your window. your favorite album is quietly playing on the record player somewhere in the corner. and there lies a handsome boy, right on top of you, dancing his lips on yours as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

he excuses this as a way to pass the time. lazily make out with one another until the heat from the summer and your hormones becomes too bothersome and you’re whining for him to pull away.

his tongue traces against your bottom lip before gaining access to your mouth. teeth gently knock into each other every once in a while the more he tilts his head. any onlooker would probably think he’s trying to devour you whole— and for a split second, you would’ve believed it.

he swallows all of your small sounds, every sigh, moan. it’s all claimed by him with no chance of you owning up to it completely.

this is the part where hands wander and your bodies readjust themselves. large hands slide from your hips down to the backs of your knees, pushing them up and out so he can slot his hips in the space. your cotton shorts slide up even further from the new position and right against your clothed cunt do you feel the hardness of his dick pressed up right against you. your smooth legs wrap around his waist to keep him trapped there while your hands slide up to the back of his hair.

you moan quietly against his lips at the new position, silently craving more but you didn’t know where to even begin asking for it.

it’s fine though. your best friend’s got it covered.

he pulls his lips away from yours to allow you to catch your breath, a thin string of saliva connects you two together before inevitably snapping away. you don’t get to properly look at him before he’s diving back down, peppering kisses against your check and all the way down to your sweaty neck.

it’s so hot in there.

a large hand slides its way up and under the tank top you were wearing. the heat from his hand almost feels scorching but that sensation fizzles out to pleasure once it reaches your breast. this is usually how far this goes before he stops completely, but there’s no end in sight this time around. your nipple is teased with his thumb rubbing against it every once in a while and causing it to pert up against his ministrations.

at this time, your moans have picked up much more. your head is pressed against your pillows and your rocking your hips against his without fully realizing it.

he doesn’t realize that he already has begun to grind down into you, offering the both of you some reprieve this way.

the heat becomes more pertinent when he breathes against your neck. his lips found a new spot to assault for a little while but this is a certain spot that has you keening. your body temperature has undoubtedly gone up higher and you can now feel the sweat beads forming against your pores.

you breathe his name out airily, squeezing the strands of hair that find themselves tangled between your fingers. but he doesn’t answer, opting to move his lips and tongue against any skin he finds.

again, you try his name but a little firmer. finally getting the hint, does he pull away to look down at you with far away eyes, struggling to bring himself back to his current reality.

“hm? what’s wrong?” he initially asks, bringing his hand from under your shirt to to cup your cheek. “‘s too much for you?”

quickly, you shake your head. “no, not that,” is all you say, legs tightening against him. the movement causes him to grunt slightly. “what is it then?”

“‘m really hot,” you whisper, pouting up at him. it’s only then does he realize the heat in the room. the once opened window does nothing to stave off the warmth emanating in the air, nor the rising heat from the skin to skin contact your bodies are making. there’s even hair sticking to his damn forehead from how hot he is.

he blinks a couple of times before nodding. “let me close the window and get the AC going, yeah?” he reasons.

while yes, it would be good to get some cold air circulating, he just wants to be between your legs again and making out with you. even if it doesn’t lead to anything more.

before he can move off of you, you grab his elbows. “just take your clothes off…” you say, albeit desperately.

“baby…”

“it’s fine. i promise. ‘s just me,”

“i know, i know. but we can’t go back after i get you completely naked,” he starts, eyes trailing down the bead of sweat that slides from your jaw to the base of your neck. “might not be able to stop myself at that point.”

you reach up from the bed to kiss him a couple of times, each of which he reciprocates immediately. “i don’t want you to, dummy.” you giggle. “if you don’t do anything, i swear to god i might implode or something.”

a devilish grin appears on his face at the implication. “been holding out on me, baby. if i knew i left you like this, i would’ve gotten you naked a long time ago.” he finalized his statement by sitting up, sliding his shirt off completely.

“we can make up for loss time starting now,”

“oh, i plan to sweetheart.”

kaeya, childe, kazuha (biased), aether, kaveh (i have a soft spot for him), hinata (extremely biased), bokuto, sugawara, kuroo, atsumu, gojo, toji, sero, shindou, steve harrington, eddie munson, your other favs ofc <3

[elixrr]

“I might be in love with you.”

How they realized they were in love.

ft. Xiao, Wanderer

Xiao：

When you held him amidst his karma.

The most interesting part of the tale? You weren't there. But he saw you. Even through the fights with himself and the surrounding darkness, he saw you— the way your sleeves fell loose on your shoulders, the way your feet glided along a garden of lilies and the way the silk and linen of your clothes weaved around your body. Even when he felt his body shatter in vigorous pain, Xiao saw the luminous glow of the moonlight reflecting off of your skin. The scenery of the dark, star-filled sky with the vibrant glaze lilies surrounding you had crafted such a beautiful picture in Xiao's head that, when he snapped back to reality, he could no longer feel the hurt. There was simply you. He couldn't see you, but he thought of you, and, even with his loyalty to Rex Lapis, he still smiled, thanking you for saving him from his karmic outburst.

But, wait a minute.

You weren't even there? How did you save him? Xiao pondered back on the image he created in his mind. It definitely wasn't something he saw, and it definitely isn't something happening now. It is night, but it is far too dark. The vibrancy of the moonlight is not present, and the bright, shining stars are instead clouded by fog and translucent mist. He definitely couldn't picture you outside right now, especially at this hour.

Hold on. What if you really were out? He is on Wuwang Hill, so of course it's foggy. What if it was brighter for you? What if the moonlight found its way to you instead?

What if that vision of you was real?

Without a second thought or consideration for his duties, he teleported to the balcony of Wangshu Inn, where he could have the possibility of seeing you, and indeed, he did see you. He teleported to a tree that stood by you, leaning on it. The remaining pain of the karma seemed to whisk away, yet his heart beat hastened. Something about how you brushed your finger against the bulb of a sweet flower made him smile.

“Xiao?” You whispered, and he swore he could feel the sun rioting the moon and rising amidst the darkness of the night.

“You called?”

“Oh!” You nearly jumped out of your skin. “That was unexpected. You actually came!”

“Of course I did. I made a promise to you, and I will honor it.”

A smile fell upon your face, and Xiao froze in place.

“Especially because it's me, I presume?”

“Wh—” Roses blossomed on his cheeks, and his heart exploded into petals.

“I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I wanted to ask if you'd be willing to walk home with me? I haven't seen you in a while, so maybe we could catch up?”

“Uh–m, I— Sure. That would be... Quite nice.”

“Oh, wow, you actually said yes!” You cheered, and Xiao's eyes glistened. It was perfect, this moment, because the clouds dispersed, and the stars and moon finally found themselves visible, shining through the clouds. You've conquered the spotlight tonight, and you've conquered Xiao's world, even if he couldn't tell.

But, you extended your hand to Xiao. This was just like his illustration of you from earlier, but he was now included. The moonlight reflected on your skin, your clothes weaved magically across your body, and surrounding the two of you were a field of flowers.

Xiao, without much thinking, grasped your hand tight, and you held it, too.

He felt a bloom in his heart, and the world around him brightened. Even as you were talking, he couldn’t pay attention to a word you said. You were graceful, and he felt the strangeness in the way your fingers interlocked with his.

You weren't holding him, really, but you held him somehow. In fact, you stole him away from the old world he lived in, introducing him to something new, something unique.

And in that moment, somewhere in the combination of his mind and heart swelled, sweeping in to tell him and make him realize that he was in love.

That he was in love with you.

Wanderer：

When you fell ill for the sake of him.

Kuni remembers it. His birthday came soon, and because it never snowed in Sumeru, the flowers still found themselves vibrant. Though, something in him found you to be more colorful and much more appealing to look at than a few colored petals and a stem, yet he could never bring himself to admit it; his pride would shatter and you would become giddy, and— if there was finally a heart to replace his hollow body— he would feel a twinge in his chest and an ache in the hollow shell of himself. Kuni figures that, because he has no heart, he is therefore heartless, meaning that this twinge in his chest can not be love like Nahida had suggested time and time again. Rather, this ache symbolized a feel of annoyance. After all, if he did have a heart, how would he be able to mercilessly kill so many people and commit so many sins?

Yet, he would catch you again and again, plucking the most beautiful, rare, and exotic flowers in Sumeru. Many of which were far too dangerous to even obtain, and that was something he realized far too late. He trusted you slightly. Actually, he didn't trust you. Kuni trusted Tighnari because you have consulted the expert many times about the flowers you picked.

But, one day, you fell ill. It wasn't due to the flowers or anything similar, but due to the weather. Kuni had been coincidentally passing by for a research project, and he stumbled upon you by a hillside, unconscious, bleeding, and sickly. You were lucky enough to forget your basket of flowers, meaning you hadn't lost any of your previously collected ones, but you were still quite unlucky. It was pouring, and atop a hill was a beautiful kalpalata lotus flower. It wasn't a terrible walk, except you were sick, and you ended up slipping and falling to what could've been your doom.

The moment Kuni saw you, he paid no mind to the flowers, nor did he care at all about his research. He needed to help you, and he, as quickly as he could, flew you over to Gandharva Ville, where he almost screamed for forest rangers to come and help you.

As you laid on the bed unconscious, Kuni stayed with you. He never left your side once.

And then you woke up.

“...What?” The pain in your head wrung from side to side, front and back. Your nose was significantly stuffier. Kuni, happy and terrified, immediately rushed over to you.

“Idiot! What were you doing out there?” He yelled, holding back the urge to punch himself for not finding you sooner, “You could've died from that sort'a height!”

“Sir, please, lower your voice. Y/N's healing process could falter if you don't shut up.” Tighnari hissed, and the two glared at each other.

“Fine, sorry. But still, what were you thinking? My birthday or whatever isn't that big a deal, and it's really not worth your damn life.” Kuni sat down on the stool next to the bed, and you looked down at the provided blankets.

“I mean, I'm not dead,” you conjure up a smile and hold in a cough, “but yeah. That was sort of stupid, but it would've been worth it if I did get you the flower.”

“What? You're mentally insane.”

“I could be.”

“That's— That's so stupid!” Why do all of that... for me? Kuni feels his chest ache again.

“Oh, it was. But hey, I'm really stupid when it comes to you.”

“What?” Kuni's eyes furrow, and Tighnari almost slams his head into the desk after hearing that.

“I mean that I'm literally stupid for you. Why else would I leave and get flowers when it's raining and when I'm sick?”

Something clicks in Kuni's head. He saw some of his peers in class talk about this phrase and suddenly connect it to some girl who was in love with a guy and...

Wait.

“I'm leaving. I'll be back— you'd better be conscious!”

“I can't guarantee that, but I'll try.”

Kuni leaves the room, frustrated. Nahida has said that he likes you, his peers have said the same thing, and maybe...

“I'm literally stupid for you.”

“That idiot..” He smiles, looking through the window to see you talking to Tighnari, who appears to be scolding you for being so careless with your health. Kuni holds in a chuckle and turns around. His ache resurfaces in his chest, and he grips the part of his top that covers his 'heart'.

Maybe, just maybe—

“I'm making a bouqet for you on your birthday!”

—maybe he is in love with you.

y/n's real name is robloxnation3000 /j

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) — task force 141 x reader

02 — THE NIGHT WE MET

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

Turns out, as much as water is wet, Soap likes to talk.

“Bloody Shadows,” he grunts under his breath. You’d given him your knife, so he could help you take down the men searching the tunnels. Now, after killing one, he’s got a weapon not unlike your own. In one hand, he wipes off the bloody knife on his thigh and slides it into his belt, and in the other, he checks over the stolen gun.

The water soaks your calves, a cloud of blood and a body along with it floating behind you both. Taking another step forward, the water ripples, the weight of it pulling as you continue to move forward, Soap at your flank.

“Your men feckin’ suck at their jobs, lass,” your new companion hisses, low enough not to echo but loud enough to have you rolling your eyes.

“They’re not used to this kind of fighting. It’s not their fault.” You’re not exactly sure why you’re defending them, when you’re decidedly betraying your entire unit, but you feel obligated to anyway.

“Or you’re just a bad Lieutenant.”

You shoot him an annoyed glance. “Wrong. I’m not a Lieutenant, Sergeant.”

You knew of his title because of something Ghost had said earlier, his voice carrying loud enough through the earpiece in the quiet of the shops. It suited him, in a way you couldn’t quite explain, just as the smell of the sea felt like more of a home than any building you’d encountered.

Keeping your head forward, you miss the roll of Soap’s eyes, and the flexing of his hand around the knife at his waist.

“Sorry, Corporal,” he retorts, and you bristle.

“Colonel will do,” you snap back, quickening your pace but keeping your movements quiet as you spot the shadows of your men up ahead. Stretching your hand out, you encourage Soap to pause.

Soap scoffs. “Dinnae think you’re above me.”

You go to continue the petty argument, when –

“Graves has lost his fucking mind over his chick.” A Shadow says around the curved corner, and Soap stops as you do. You see a flash of red, their flashlight, up ahead, and pull Soap’s shirt to stand with you against the wall.

“How much do you bet she’s found out about another girl he’s got goin’ on the side?”

Your chest constricts, and your body feels as though it’s frozen in time. Soap’s hand comes up to remove your grip on his shirt, and you don’t make a single argument or movement against it.

“That, or she’s gone to find another superior to fuck,” the other replies.

Within one moment, and the next, you pull your knife back from the sheath on Soap’s belt, and take a massive, sweeping step to your right.

It’s not a second later that the knife has flung from your fist, and met the neck of one of the gossiping Shadows. Blood spurts out of his neck, and he quickly finds himself falling forwards onto his knees, and then effectively being pulled by the motion of the flood.

“What the –” The other starts, but in one click, you’ve pressed the silencer onto the end of your gun, flicked off the safety and shot a bullet into the back of his head.

Your hands do not tremble. You don’t even make a noise.

Soap does, though, just as the sun is set to rise.

“Christ, lass, that was clean,” he says under his breath, before letting out a low, impressed whistle. “Colonel it is.”

You don’t respond. Instead, you just put your knife back into its rightful spot in your vest, flip on the safety, and continue to wade down the tunnel.

The words of the two Shadows echo in your mind, like your very soul has been hollowed out for the sole purpose of being a cavern of mindless thoughts. You suppose that’s the way of life.

By the time the two of you reach the end juncture of the tunnel, Soap’s killed two more Shadows. You haven’t hurt any since the last few, but it’s a small mercy. You’re not exactly itching to murder your… previous subordinates.

Previous. Past.

Whatever.

“Ghost says the church is just to the right, ‘nd up the stairs,” Soap supplies as the two of you make it to the T-junction. Giving him a small nod, you turn right, finding the said stairs mere metres away.

“It’s going to be rough out there,” you warn with a short glance his way.

He chuckles a humoured sound, surprising you with its warmth. “Aye can handle rough, lass,” he teases, and you’ll forever be grateful for his positive outlook on the situation. Humour was good, when one was going through such… bullshittery.

“What’s the plan after we meet with Ghost?” You ask lowly as you start ascending the brick steps, the dripping of water a debilitating soundtrack. 

Soap is just a few steps behind you, his steps just slightly slower due to his injuries and general stress. “Eh, we’ll see. Ghost has probably got a rough idea already,” he admits. He seems to almost worship Ghost, although in a very different way to how you do – did – with Graves. “Lt for a reason, hen.”

“I’m not a chicken,” you snark back, hand resting at the dagger strapped onto your thigh. It’s a familiar habit.

Soap’s laugh, this time, comes out boisterous and almost shocked. It’s a loud, genuine thing, and you can’t find it in yourself to despise it. 

“Yer funny for a traitor,” he responds, and your stomach hollows out once more.

Traitor.

That single word – title – rings in your ears like the bombs you’ve set off in past missions. Like a tormenting, cruel ghoul, whispering taunts in your ear. Traitor. Traitor. Traitor.

You don’t reply as you make it to the inside of a house, the front door seeming to face exactly where the two of you needed to go. Pausing before it, you look to Soap once more, cocking your gun.

“Ready, Sergeant?” You ask, both for his sake, and your own. Your resolve is weak, trembling, almost, but there’s no going back now. Not after this.

Soap lets out his own exhale, before his deep blue eyes meet yours. “Aye, I’m ready.”

You turn.

And you open the door.

“Jesus fuck!” Soap yells out, and your focus is quickly split between his sudden words, and the hilt of a gun crashing into the side of your head.

Falling to the ground with a groan, a bloom of light taunts you in the corner of your shut eyes, your skull pounding with the sudden pain. Bringing a hand up to the source of your ache, you slowly blink your eyes open, watching as your fingers come away with sticky blood coating them.

“I found her! She’s with –” 

Looking up, your mouth falls open as a bullet lodges itself into the Shadow’s forehead, and he too, falls to the ground.

Except, unlike you, he would never get up again.

“Was that you, Lt?” Soap calls into his own comms, and he sounds nothing if not impressed. Rising to your knees, you manage to find your way back up to your feet, albeit with shaky movements.

Your vision is slightly skewed, and you feel somewhat out of it as you look outside, and spot the darkened streets once more.

Whatever Ghost responds with makes Soap laugh, but all you can focus on is that the church is so close. You guys could make it – no, you would make it.

And you would convince Graves to stop this, and to continue being the man you thought you knew.

You could fix everything.

“All good?” Soap asks you, then, appearing at your side like a trusted dog. You’re all too aware of how you must look – bewildered and bloody.

“What’re we waiting for?” Is your reply.

Turns out, a lot.

By the time the two of you make it to the steps of the church, there’s enough blood on your hands to make you think that it’ll never come off. Both figuratively, and physically.

“Johnny!” 

Breath stilted, head pounding and ears ringing, your weighted gaze sloppily meets that of Simon Riley’s.

You’d never met the guy, never seen him, either. And in person, he’s terrifying in a guttural, instinctual way. All dark-clothed bulk, skull mask dirtied and stark in the eery night. The sniper strapped to his back just adds to his whole image.

“Fuck, Ghost, you’re –” Soap begins, but a bullet just missing his ear has his words silenced.

“We gotta find a way outta here,” Ghost directs, and you nod instinctively. At the movement, his eyes zero-in on your frame – and they narrow. His hands clench around the smaller, more close-range gun in his hands, and his jaw tightens.

Right. You weren’t friends, and you could hardly be called acquaintances.

Enemies, first and foremost.

Swallowing, you flit your gaze back to Soap, inclining your head towards the multitude of vehicles along the street to your left.

“Come on, we’re sitting ducks here. Let’s find a car and go,” you yell over the sound of the harsh pattering of rain, thunder reverberating through your chest. Your eyes maintain a wincing position, hair completely wet and droplets dripping from your face and gear, mascara coating underneath your eyes, and you’re sure, your cheeks.

“The lass is right,” Soap shifts his attention from you to Ghost, “C’mon, Lt.”

Ghost waits another moment, and even with Soap looking at him, his focus remains solely on you. His gaze is hard, cold, full of hatred and distaste.

“Please,” he insists, tone gone pleading and almost desperate.

It’s all Ghost must need, it seems, because he shifts the weight of his gun between his hands once more with a direct nod. 

It’s not a moment later that more bullets are shot at the three of you, causing you to instantly find cover and press your back against it, quickly checking that your weapon is loaded. It is, thank the gods, and you quickly peek around the stall of which you’d used as cover and pop a few shots at some Shadows you see lining the streets. A few drop, and more yelling echoes throughout the town.

“There’s a truck with its lights on up ahead!” Ghost’s voice carries over the cacophony of sounds down the street, and you heave out a shaky breath. Turning just enough that you can search for the vehicle he’s talking about, your heart thumps in your chest as your eyes lock onto it.

You figure that the man must be further along the streets than you, so steeling your nerves, you stand up once more and raise your gun.

Soap and Ghost have already made a dent in the soldiers after the lot of you, but you find yourself lodging bullets into quite a few Shadows’ skulls anyways. To be on the other side like this, to kill your men, it’s a kind of pain you’d never even considered that you’d have to experience.

Your chest rises and falls at a concerning rate as you find the truck just a few feet away from you, Soap’s hand gripping the door to the passenger’s side, and Ghost jumping into the driver’s seat.

With one final pull of the trigger, you push Soap into the car, and rush into it right after him, pulling the door shut with an audible slam!

“Drive!” You quickly direct Ghost, pulling up your gun over the back of the seat and aiming it at the Shadows directing their sights to the three of you. “Before they kill us all!”

Ghost jerks, the glass of his window shattering as a bullet flies through, a searing pain bursting through the top of your right cheek. Cursing under your breath, you pull the trigger of your gun, Soap shooting his own at the same time.

With a burst of the accelerator, the truck goes rearing backwards, and your eyes go wide as you watch Ghost reverse into two Shadows, their bodies churning underneath the wheel.

“Fuckin’ hell, Lt!” Soap cries out, and just as he does, Ghost quickly manoeuvres the vehicle into drive. He’s quick about it, and you flinch as he crashes through the wired gate that had previously blocked off the street, the truck lurching with the movement.

With tight swerves, and a few more bullets shot from your guns, both you and Soap finally loosen your postures as you lose the couple of Shadows left behind.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you exhale a deep, meaningful breath.

“You good, hen?”

Blinking away the blurriness of your vision, you jolt when Soap’s hand reaches out to cup your cheek, his thumb grazing the spot where the pain originates on your cheek. Letting out a small hiss, he immediately pulls away.

“Just a graze, I think,” you bite out, bringing your own shaky fingers to the wound. You can feel where the blood drips from it, along with the blood from your forehead.

“I found some cloth,” Soap pulls out said object, handing you a decently clean strip of tawny fabric. “Will it do?”

With a sharp nod, you take the fabric from his grip, righting yourself to face him properly. Looking down, you unzip one of the compartments on your vest, taking out a small first aid kit.

Soap lets out a low, impressed whistle. “Didn’t realise ye were a medic, lass.”

Despite yourself, and your situation, you can’t help the small tilt of your lips. “I’m a medical professional. Just chose to take lives, rather than save ‘em.”

“Well, ye saved mine today.”

Looking up from where you scavenge through the small kit, your eyes meet his. They’re so blue, and they shine beneath the night lights of Las Almas. Even with his wound, they seem so positive, so joyful and kind.

“And you saved my humanity,” you admit. It’s true, of course – if not for you crashing into him, you had no idea where you’d be right now.

Ghost clears his throat, and you quickly focus back in on your supplies, scurrying through them for the necessary items.

Pulling out a pair of medical scissors, and some cleaning alcohol, you wave for Soap to pull up his sleeve and give you his arm. He does, swearing under his breath as some of the crusted blood pulls away with the fabric of his shirt. His arm is nothing if not muscled, and if it were any other circumstance, any other man, you’d allow yourself a moment to appreciate such pure masculinity.

But this is an enemy, and this is a bullet wound.

“This’ll hurt,” you murmur, checking over the small alcohol bottle in your hand, before looking through the medkit once more. “And you’ve lost a lot of blood. Here.”

Reaching for a small piece of candy, you drop it into his open palm.

His eyes flicker from yours, to the small wrapper in his large hand. He seems to inspect it, for a moment, before his mouth twists into a mocking smirk.

“Sweethearts, aye?”

You roll your eyes, your cheeks burning for reasons other than your wound as you twist off the cap of the bottle in your hands. If you notice Ghost’s attention flit from the road ahead to the two of you, you don’t say a word.

“You need to get your sugars up. It’s not much, but it’s all I have right now,” you explain, refusing to look up at him. “Have one now, this’ll sting.”

He huffs, but undoes the wrapping and pops one of the lollies into his mouth. He hums.

With one hand on his shoulder, you bring up the bottle and drop some of the liquid onto the wound, flushing out any bacteria or infections. Hopefully.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Soap groans out, teeth clenched and jaw straining as his eyes flutter shut.

“Be careful,” Ghost warns, worry and threat bundled into the two words like a second skin. If you were one to be intimidated, you would take the sentiment seriously, but all you can focus on is the obvious care for his companion.

Very odd, indeed.

“How’s the candy?” You ask, grabbing a sterilising wipe and cleaning up around the wound. Luckily, the bullet had exited – there wouldn’t be a need to go digging in there. That also meant that you had to clean the other side of his arm, however.

Soap’s chuckle comes out strained, but it’s better than silence.

“Delicious, sweetheart.”

You pause your movements, briefly, your chest tightening at the mocking endearment.

“Sweetheart?” You repeat back, your tone a question, before you continue to clean his wounds, albeit with more stilted movements.

“The lollies,” Ghost supplies, and you can’t help but think that he either thinks you’re dumb, or just generally despises you.

Maybe both.

…Definitely both.

“Yer jus’ so sweet, lass,” Soap taunts, before letting out a sound akin to a whimper when you swipe the wipe a bit too close to his wound.

“My bad,” your smile is sickeningly sweet, your tone light and innocent.

Soap’s jaw sets, but silence fills the truck as you make sure that the cloth will properly fit around the wound, getting out a safety pin to keep it around his arm.

It takes a few minutes for you to wrap the makeshift gauze around his skin, the groans of pain from him few and far between. Despite everything, you were a good medic. You’d been trained well, and you had the cadence for it.

Usually.

Fastening the clip through the cloth, you fix it up so it looks presentable enough, and successful for its job.

“All done,” you say softly, hesitant to speak up in the silence of the space.

You go to pack up your supplies, before a hand reaches out and wraps around your wrist, stopping your movements.

Flicking your gaze up to Soap’s, you go to open your mouth to say something, but find yourself at a loss for words. Your eyebrows furrow, and he seems to sense your confusion, because –

“Yer wounds,” he blurts out, wincing at the suddenness of his proposal. “...Yer wounded. Too.”

You can’t stop a shocked, sharp laugh leaving your lips.  “I’m very aware of that, yes. Brilliant observation, Sherlock.”

“Let him speak,” Ghost grits out, and Soap’s grip tightens around your wrist. The smell of blood and gunpowder is potent in the night, but you find yourself at ease with the somewhat familiar scent. What’s throwing you off is the sudden add-on of their cologne – somehow, someway, you can smell it. Whether it’s military-duty, or it’s ingrained into their very bones, you haven’t a clue.

You could slap yourself for noticing, for being curious at all.

They smell oddly like cedarwood and musk.

“Let me fix ye up,” Soap supplies, and you can’t do anything but oblige.

Handing him the first aid kit, your fingers brush, and it really, really shouldn’t mean a thing. For the gods’ sake, you’d had your hands all over his upper arm just mere moments ago.

But there’s a spark.

Like a universal truth, maybe. Like a sensation of sudden purpose, as if all this time, all of your life, had led up to this very moment. To this very person.

You pull away sharply, and Soap doesn’t comment on it.

You’ll forever be grateful for that.

“This’ll hurt,” Soap chides, mocking your voice. You fight the urge to slap that smug grin off of his face.

You notice Ghost’s uneasy grip on the steering wheel as he cruises through the city, taking odd turns and slightly too risky manoeuvres. His focus is designated directly to his task, only occasionally checking on Soap.

Fingers underneath your chin force you to look to the Scot at your side, his movement gentle but fingers calloused and weathered. It’s an impossible dichotomy, but one you find yourself relaxing into anyways; the kind of impossible that one starts to think of as home.

Yet, your home is far from here.

Your home is in Graves’ quarters. At the Shadows’ base. 

It’s difficult to suppress the groan when Soap brushes the alcohol wipe against your cheek, but biting down on your lower lip does the job. If anything, it makes you focus on the sharp pain of that, rather than the graze on your cheek.

The trick lasts a few minutes, before Ghost goes over a particularly rough bump, causing the wipe to dig into your open wound. Your head falls forward, a soft grunt falling from your lips at the burst of pain.

“Aye, lass, ‘s alright,” Soap soothes, but it does little for your growing embarrassment. 

You shoot your glare his way, settling back further into your seat. “Thanks, but that’s enough for now.”

Soap’s expression betrays his inner turmoil, but you turn, looking out of the window. 

The darkness and rain battle along the forested roads, and it’s only now that you realise you’ve left the city. And, also, that you have no idea what’s happening, or where the fuck you’re even going.

“What’s the plan?” You ask steadily, falsifying your growing apprehension.

“A safehouse,” Ghost grunts the reply, and you already know that that’s all you’re going to get from him for now. Letting out a small huff, you fold your arms over your chest, resolutely not looking at Soap.

If you did, you’d see him personifying a kicked puppy.

Silence falls, once again, over the three of you. It allows for you to think, both over the storm brewing both outside, and in your head. 

You weren’t sure how long it would take Graves to realise that you betrayed him, if he would believe it at all. Somehow, you wouldn’t put it past him to say that this is all an elaborate kidnapping, but you figure he must have bigger problems to deal with than you going missing right now.

Then, there was the issue of alliances. Ghost hadn’t exactly agreed to working with you, and he definitely showed no signs of being anything but cold towards you. And, even then, could you really kill your – whatever Graves was – if it came down to it?

And what was to happen next? After everything was said and done? Would the 141 allow you to work with them?

Would you want to?

“We’re here.”

Pulling the handbrake, the truck stops, and you see that Ghost has pulled up outside a safehouse of some sort, in the outskirts of Las Almas.

You go to get out, but you realise that your door’s remained locked – and when you turn to question Ghost, you soon gather that it’s a purposeful move.

Ghost’s eyes narrow on you, calculating and assessing, before he says, voice like a gunshot in the quiet of the night –

“Give me a reason not to kill you right now, 'nd we might let you live.”

You swallow around the desert that your mouth’s become, and with shaky words, you respond.

a/n. first post of 2024!! i hope everyone enjoys, and if u did, please comment, reblog and follow!! mwah mwah

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias

[bby-deerling]

law + gossip

masterlist || commissions

tagging: @willowbelle @queenmimi2817 @fanaticsnail @eelnoise @kaizokuniichan @mirillua @atanukileaf

having been with law for a very long time, it was only natural that you would keep secrets for him; some were serious, and others... not so much, with the silliest of these secrets being that law loves to gossip with you.

he justifies it as a side effect of being the captain—he simply wants to be informed on everything that goes on aboard the polar tang. and his point was defensible, to an extent, until one considers the fact that law knows nearly every single detail about bepo's tiny spats with hakugan as they drive the submarine together, penguin's unfortunate love life, and he could write out a comprehensive timeline of shachi and ikkaku's tumultuous, years long on-again-off-again relationship with his eyes closed. maybe he enjoys the tiny tingles of schadenfreude coursing beneath his skin, or is simply curious about what his friends do when they think no one else is looking, but whatever the reason, it's relaxing to talk his ear off—and you've got an interesting piece of information for him today.

"you busy?" you ask law, as you step into his office, a small smirk on your face as you close his door. he's poring over some messily drawn maps of the region that bepo has cobbled together, but he shakes his head, mumbles out a no, and waves you over, craving some soothing company while he works. flopping down into the armchair across from his desk, you can barely contain your giggles, eager to relay the details of shachi and ikkaku's argument from this afternoon.

"shachi's in trouble again." you inform him. law's head snaps up from the map on his desk to meet your gaze, his full attention resting in the palm of your hand.

"things were going too well. what did he do this time?" law asks, leaning forward and resting his chin on top of his folded hands. a few chuckles escape his lips as you tell him, in colorful detail, how ikkaku had overheard shachi and penguin making some distasteful comments about wanting to catch a glimpse of the women of amazon lily—their argument had started over her accusing him of not respecting women, but snowballed into her criticizing his tendency to let his eyes wander.

"what'd he say to that?" law pries curiously, holding his opinion until you finish relaying the entire story as per usual, though the smirk that creeps across your face tells him that you're about to get to the good part.

"he said—and i quote—'why does it matter who i look at? you're not my girlfriend.'" you say, drinking up every bit of law's incredulous reaction with amusement spread across your face.

law pulls in air through his teeth as he lets out a disappointed sigh; the two of you had been rooting for them to finally get together for real this time, and it had seemed like things were so close to coming to fruition. "tch, he's such an idiot. so we're back to square one then?" he asks, a smidge dismayed.

"for now. you know how it is with them." you reply indifferently; the status of their relationship changed like the phases of the moon, and you knew that the push and pull of the tide would draw them back together at some point.

and, stable as the warm, bright sun rising in the east, you and law would sit back, content to watch them ebb and flow.

[goddessofwisdom-7]

I Gotcha.

Luke Castellan x daughter of Apollo!reader

Description: three times you promised Luke that you got him. The two times he struggled to believe and finally when he did.

A/N: the gif is not mine, credits to the owner.

************************************************************

The days spent at camp immediately after his failed quest were arguably the worst of Luke's entire life.

He had to drag himself back home with a burnt chunk of an apple, a dragon tooth and half his face destroyed.

You had nursed him back to health. Spending three days straight in the infirmary. The solo quest was a bad idea and you had known it. Luke had gone alone in some sort of attempt to prove himself, seeking glory but now this entire thing had backfired and you couldn't help but worry.

When he awoke he had stared in mute horror at the mirror you held up to his face.

"I tried to minimise the scarring as much as I could, Luke. I couldn't remove it entirely but with the correct balm and scar creams it'll fade," you had explained.

Luke knew you were the best the camp infirmary had but he couldn't explain the rage that boiled within him. This fruitless quest, with its dumb replication to Heracles' and his quest all for the sake of earning his father's attention had permanently marred him.

Physical proof of his father's neglect right there for everyone to witness.

And he would have to carry this stupid scar for the rest of his life.

"Luke?"

His gaze snapped to meet yours, softening slightly, as you placed the mirror facedown on his bedside table.

"Yeah?"

He didn't want to see sympathy in your eyes, no doubt too many campers will be looking upon him like he was a pitiful kicked dog, nor did he want to see disappointment; he wasn't quite sure how he'd stomach that.

But your face held neither of those emotions, instead a strong conviction resided in the lines of your face, lines that you were too young to have, that marked the effects of stress no adolescent should feel.

"I'm gonna take care of you Luke, okay?" You reached out and cupped his uninjured cheek, "I gotcha. I always gotcha."

And wasn't that something.

He reached out cupping your face in his hands, this was his whole world.

"Okay baby; yeah, please."

****************************

Luke had miscalculated. He'd failed to retain the master bolt and the helm of darkness.

Now, he was being punished. Severely. And he hated it but he deserved it. He'd let Kronos down, he needed to learn his lesson so he never makes the same mistake.

The nightmares cut too much into reality though sometimes. His entire body lit aflame but it always got so much worse when he was forced to face a scenario where he had to cut you up so that your pieces would replace the Titan.

He never failed this test, but it always took the most out of him. Even if you always understood his anger, he wasn't sure you'd understand his methods; and at the crack of every dawn, he'd escape his cabin and run to the lake where he knew you'd always be. Like clockwork, watching the sun rise.

This time his skin buzzed with the phantom recollection of his nightmares, he had to scrub at his eyes to clear his vision a few times, mistaking the blood on his hands to be real in his fatigued state.

You sat on the deck, eyes fixed on the changing colours of the sky. He could hear your voice humming a soft nameless tune. This was your ritual, your futile attempts at interactions with your father as he burst across the heavenly dome on his sun chariot.

Nonetheless, Luke always enjoyed the sound of your voice. He'd appreciate it if Apollo never would.

You'd sense his presence as you always did in the early hours and you'd beckon him towards you.

Sitting by your side felt right, amidst all the tension he'd been under. The weight of all his plans. Your song was familiar, the heat and strength of your figure a comfort.

"Nightmares again?" You asked, knowing the answer regardless.

He'd nod.

There were a few truths he was allowed to tell you. Sometimes if he said it with enough of himself, he could fool himself to believe that all you knew weren't mainly lies.

"Come here."

And you'd guide his head to you lap, gentle– loving, like the first rays of the sun. You would card your fingers through his curls, and every now and then lightly ghost your fingertips over the scar on his face.

On occasion, Luke would dream that you were healing him, erasing his scars, erasing his pains.

"I gotcha Luke," you'd murmur, "I always gotcha."

Some mornings he'd fall into a dreamless sleep.

************************

"I gotcha baby," oh he's missed that voice, "I always gotcha, Luke." It's been too long. Days, weeks, months. Years.

You were crying.

Percy and Annabeth were crying too but–

You're crying.

Don't cry.

He's really tired, and it's getting difficult to take a breath. He figures this is the feeling of death and he's trying to not be afraid.

You reach for him, and he forces himself to open his eyes and look at you.

It's not so bad. Your face has always been what he'd like to see last. It's just–

There's so much to say. So many things he has to tell you, to apologise for, to confess, to love and there's no time.

You're so beautiful.

Even covered in soot and monster dust and blood.

Your hands cup his face, fingers instinctively brushing his brows and scar. You keep mumbling small comforts, little assurances. But you don't promise life, because that wouldn't be true and while Luke has been a deceitful liar, you have never been one yourself and you won't lie to him even now.

But you promise that you got him. And he believes you.

"I know baby," He huffs and tries to say, "but now...it's time– time to let me go."

It's a struggle. His vision is blurry, he's really tired.

So he focuses on the feel of you instead, letting his eyes close. This is just like falling asleep.

*****************************************************************************

[peachesofteal]

ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / prev here

Six thirty in the morning might be your favorite time of day. 

It’s the before.

Before anyone else comes in, before the morning rush, before the chime of the front door’s bell, before the shop is filled with lines of people, before it all upends you.

At six thirty in the morning, you sit in the back, perched on the prep table, with a fresh cup of coffee. You leave the side door open, screen separating you from the world, fresh air mixing with the smell of strawberry basil scones, cinnamon coffee cake and mini kolaches, fruited with whatever jam you’ve managed to throw together. Steam rises, semolina spills, the sun dawns, and the world wakes… all well after you’ve had your breakfast.

This corner of the city is busy, and the shop always hums like a well-oiled machine in the dregs of a rush, the front counter team churning out specialty coffees and teas effortlessly. It’s cyclical, similar faces every day, morning commuters rushing in and out, locals settling in a nook with their laptops and lattes, people swinging in for a quick bite. You hide in the back, usually, elbow deep in sudsy warm water with your mountain of dishes, answering the occasional shout of 'do we have more of-' and 'just sold the last-'

This morning in particular, cranberry orange scones, pumpkin muffins and mini quiches are the only things left cooling on the speed racks, waiting patiently for their turn to be placed in the display case, an endless cycle of replenishment lasting until the rush dies down, morning fading into afternoon, triple shot monstrosities turning into decaf coffees. 

It’s laborious, this routine. Five, six, sometimes seven days a week, going to bed with the sun, rising before it. Your wrists ache from rolling dough, cutting dough, scraping dough. Your back weeps when you lift the bowl from the mixer stand every morning, and your joints fare no better. You need new boots, and new insoles for your new boots, and probably a new standing mat, though you know your boss will never go for it. 

You’re tired.

The exhaustion settles into your bones easily today, wearing you down until you’re allowing your eyes to close, wilting atop the butcher’s block- 

The shop phone rings. 

You heave yourself down and swing through the double doors to the front, scrambling for the classic corded receiver, nearly fumbling it in your hands. 

“Hello?” Shit. You always forget to answer with the shop’s name. You’re not exactly the customer facing part of the operation. “Galaxy’s.” You correct and… wait. 

There’s no response. 

You think you can hear someone breathing, something rustling, but it’s too faint and difficult to make out. 

“’Lo?” You try again, but still, there’s silence. It’s an unending moment, you on one end… who knows what on the other, and you hold your breath, straining to hear, to listen. 

The line clicks dead in the next second. 

Odd. 

The shop girl is chewing gum. 

You’ve told her a million times not to chew gum when she’s working the counter, but clearly, she’s never heard of norovirus, and you’re not the boss, or the owner, so being the broken record only gets you so far. 

“There’s someone out front to see you.” She snaps it between her front teeth, and your molars grind together like stone. 

“Who?” You toss a clean towel on the stainless steel table in the middle of the kitchen with a frown. You don’t really get visitors here, most of your friends are in the same industry, and either work the line too late to be up in time to even get coffee somewhere, or are already at work, buried beneath a bain-marie and the never-ending sound of a ticket printer. 

There’s dried, caulked dough caked to your fingers, shoved up underneath your nails, and you brush them self-consciously against the ratty old apron stretched across your waist. 

The surprise lingers on your tongue, and then explodes when you spot the massive dusky blonde from the other day, the one who was with the guy who split the coffee all over your favorite dress. He’s too tall, and too broad, and too imposing, everything in your sense of self-preservation screaming at you to run when he notices you approaching, gleam of a predator sparkling in his eyes.  

Still, somewhere, tucked away, it thrills you, the idea of them, the balancing act, two halves of a whole. He’s etched from stone, strong and steady, while his partner is saporous, vibrant, and riotous, crystal blue eyes sparkling in the mid-day sun. 

You wonder what they're like. What they talk about. What they do.

Curiosity killed the cat.

Your skin prickles once you fall into his orbit, immobilized by the molten toffee pooling around his irises. You float for a second, tracing his knife’s edged jaw, the fullness of his lips, imperfect pieces puzzled together to make a masterpiece, and then crash back to earth quickly, realizing you’re standing in front of him… staring. 

“Uh. Hi.” What is he doing here? How did he know where to find you?

“Sorry to barge in on you at work.” He starts immediately, wallet appearing from his back pocket like a magic trick. “Wanted to make sure we settled up.” Thick fingers hold a folded nest of notes, and you stare down at them, slowly processing what he means.

Cash? 

“Oh, I… I have… venmo. Or we could use apple pay, you didn’t have to come all the-“ 

“Don’t have venmo.” His mouth tilts, and you go with it, head listing to the side like a wayward buoy. “This is easier.” He pushes it into your hand, peeling your fingers back to enclose the money in your palm, heat sparking up your spine. 

“How did you know where I worked?” You blurt, unable to keep it at bay any longer. The question singes, settles uncomfortably in the sparks between you. 

“Saw you in the back yesterday, when we were in for a cuppa.” Oh. Suspicion sheds, snakeskin left behind on a cold, dusty trail, suspension of disbelief settling in the back of your mind. Sure. After all, this is where you ran into them last week, on your day off. They do come here. 

“Well. Thanks.” 

“It’s our pleasure. Hope the stain came out okay.” 

“Oh, yeah. It’s… still at the cleaners.” This is absolutely false, but he doesn’t need to know that. The spare bills will probably go towards your energy bill, and the ruined dress will go in the trash. 

It is what it is. 

“Couldn’t help but notice when I was comin’ through the parking lot that the back door is open.” His voice swoops low, dropping into a rumble, and you blink, lips parting. 

“Oh, um y-yeah. I like the breeze.” He shakes his head, a simple rejection, leaving you spinning. 

“City’s not the safest right now, yeah?” Oh, yeah. Of course, you knew. Rival factions of organized crime were leaving a red sea of bodies in their wake all over town, a new murder popping up in the headlines nearly every week. 

But you were safe. You were fine. Galaxy’s had never been stained with the bloody touch of any of them, and you took it as fact. Permanence. 

You agree reluctantly, watching the storm clouds roil on across his expression before evaporating. You shrug, hands clutched in your apron, doubt and skepticism clear on your face.

His expression shutters. His eyes turn cold.   

His thumb and forefinger dart through the air, latching onto your chin. 

You freeze. You should tug away, jerk backwards, yell and scream and hiss, but all you can do is stand there, caught in a trap and trembling as he leans forward to murmur in your ear. 

“Lock the door, little doe.” 

[ellenhghg]

Very short imagine of Sol visiting you at night. Thought I would feed the fandom with something small since we're all so starving ;-; Also to feed my obsession. No warnings and gender neutral :)

Sol's heart swelled with adoration as he gazed upon your sleeping form, his eyes drinking in every perfect detail - the flutter of your lashes, the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, the way you clutched the blankets close as if seeking comfort. A tender smile curled his lips while warmth flooded his entire being, the aching depths of his obsession momentarily soothed by your presence.

"My love, my life, my everything…" he murmured, the devotion in his hushed tone evident as he slowly approached the bed. Kneeling beside you, he carefully brushed a stray lock of hair from your face, fingertips trailing feather-light over the soft skin of your cheek. You looked so peaceful, so beautifully vulnerable that he had to actively restrain the nearly overwhelming urge to shower you with fierce, desperate kisses.

Instead he settled for ghosting his lips over your forehead, breathing you in like a man starved before reluctantly pulling away. As always, the fragile restraint he maintained threatened to snap; it was intoxicating torment being so close to his heart's desire yet unable to fully claim you as his own. Not yet… but soon…

«Patience is key,» he reminded himself, jaw clenching with the effort it took to withdraw from your side. Rising, he crossed to the window and peered out at the night-cloaked city, hands curling into tight fists. «I've waited this long to find my soulmate, I can endure a bit longer…»

The sleeping pills he covertly administered ensured you remained oblivious to his clandestine visits; a necessary evil to guarantee they wouldn't be interrupted. Still… your lack of response, however medically induced, sparked an aching loneliness in his chest. He craved your reciprocal touch, yearned to hear his name upon your lips…

«All in due time, my pumpkin…» The thought was bittersweet yet it granted meager comfort nonetheless. Sol stayed a while longer, content to simply bask in your presence as you slumbered. But eventually he slipped away into the shadows with great reluctance, his heart clinging to the promise of tomorrow when they would meet again beneath the waking sun.