#anyway at least i KIND OF slept??? i woke up but i was out of it

[loverboydotcom]

trying to psychoanalyse my multiple dreams about being in berlin last night

[toastsnaffler]

roommate got a new laptop but can't get her wifi connected from the kitchen so she's taken it back to her room to set up..... huge loss for annoying nosy ppl everywhere :-(

[forever-rogue]

Ok, just got an idea of tasm.

What about a first introduction with May, like reader is so anxious about meeting her and when she finally does so she realizes May is so sweet with her 🥺

Aunt May being so sweet with Peter's girl just got me ✨😭

AN | No, but May is the best! She’d absolutely adore Peter’s girl❤️

Pairing | tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Main | Peter

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A million thoughts were racing through your mind; unfortunately none of them were good. You were about to meet the most important woman in Peter’s life, beside you, and all you wanted was to make a good first impression. You had no clue what you would do if she didn’t like you. You’d probably be dumped and heartbroken. 

“Stop being stupid,” you groaned at your reflection as you fixed your hair. You wanted to look perfect without looking like you were trying too hard. Ugh. You were definitely overthinking this. It was supposed to be a simple dinner, not some sort of life changing event. But…it kind of was. For you anyway.

“Hey Bug,” you hadn’t heard Peter let himself into your apartment. When you looked up, you found leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest as you met his gaze in the mirror, “you look beautiful.”

You relaxed at his words, letting out a soft sigh as you turned around to face, “are you sure? It’s not too much or not enough?”

“It’s perfect,” he took a few steps closer to you, “you could wear anything and it would be perfect.”

“Shut up,” you gently pushed at his chest but he didn’t budge, instead only softly laughed, “I’m nervous, Pete.”

“Don’t be nervous,” he cupped your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek, “there’s no reason to worry. May is going to love you - she might even end up loving you more than me.”

“I hope she likes me at least a little bit,” you whispered, leaning into soft touch, “what if she doesn’t for some reason?”

“That’s impossible,” he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head as you huffed at him, “trust me.”

“I do…mostly,” you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his lips, “but you know, the whole not telling me about the fact that you were Spider-Man doesn’t help your honesty credibility.”

“To be fair, Bug, I didn’t and wasn’t going to tell you,” you raised an eyebrow at him as his cheeks flushed lightly, “I mean, I was going to eventually…but you beat me to it.”

“You weren’t exactly subtle, Peter Parker,” you remembered the evening you discovered his alter ego like it was yesterday, “you came into the bedroom in the suit and bleeding profusely, remember? Or did you lose too much blood and forget?”

“I remember,” he mumbled softly. It was one of the first nights you’d stayed over at his apartment but duty had called; he left in the middle of the night while you slept soundly in his bed. He’d intended to be back and next to you in bed before you even woke up. Unfortunately it hadn’t happened that way at all, “it was…not how I planned on telling you.”

“Nevertheless, you lied to me…sort,” you waved your hand around before leaning against the counter with a heavy sigh, “so what you’re doing that to me now and you just know May will hate me?”

“I…” he paused for a moment, incredulous at your little theory as you pouted at him, “do you really think I’d do that?”

“No,” you sighed softly, your shoulders sinking as he pulled you into a hug, tucking you perfectly into his frame, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “I just want this to go well, Pete.”

“It will,” he rubbed your back in soothing circles as you mumbled something against his chest, “it’s just May and me. Nothing is going to go wrong.”

“Fine,” you finally gave in as Peter chuckled softly, “let’s just go and do this.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You walked up the steps to May’s house, clutching on Peter’s hand tightly; if he was superhuman you might have even broken it. In your other hand was a bouquet of flowers that you’d picked up just for May. Your heart was beating so loudly you were positive that Peter could easily hear it. Once he knocked, you listened with bated breath for the door to be answered, trying to see if you could hear May coming.

And yet, it still took you by surprise when the door was gently opened and there stood May Parker, the woman, the myth, and the legend herself. She was a smaller woman but she had a giant presence about her; you could see how much Peter loved her just from the way his lit up, “Aunt May!”

“Peter,” he gently let go of your hand and wrapped her up in a giant hug that caused her to chuckle at him, “it’s good to see you, sweetheart.”

She pressed a kiss to his cheek before shifting her gaze over to you. You half expected to see some sort of judgment, but in reality you saw nothing of the short. If you thought she softened for Peter, she was even more gentle with you. 

“Hi Mrs. Parker,” you held out the flowers to her, hoping you didn’t appear too intimidated, “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

She said your name, so warm and tenderly, before taking the flowers and pulling you into a hug as well. There must have been something in the Parker family that caused all of them to give the best hugs; Peter probably learned from her, “it’s so good to finally meet you. It feels like it’s been so long and Peter never shuts up about y-”

“Alright, alright,” Peter’s cheeks pinked as you looked at him with a huge grin. Your heart felt like it was going to burst with all the affection that you had for these two people, “let’s, ugh, get inside before it gets too cold.”

“Oh Peter, don’t get all shy,” May wrapped her arm around your shoulders before leading you inside, “I think it’s wonderful that you have some to love so much.”

You flashed him a grin over your shoulder as you stepped inside the Parker home; he was a very bright red that gave you enough pause to hang back and press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Peter, can you please put these beautiful flowers into some water for me,” the kitchen and the entire house smelled absolutely divine. You’d been told that she was a good cook and that almost made your mouth water in excitement, “dinner’s almost ready.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” you couldn’t help as but cast curious eyes around the kitchen and dining area, looking at all the photos that were hung up and items that were displayed. A photograph of a young Peter caught your eye as you walked over to it and looked at it closer. He was super cute as a kid and you couldn’t help but wonder what your kids would like…you hoped that you’d get to find out one day, “oh my gosh, Pete! You were so precious!”

“Peter really was the cutest and sweetest boy,” May agreed as Peter looked mortified; he wished the floor would open up and swallowed him whole, “he was such a good boy.”

“Wonder what happened?” you teased as May laughed. Alright, you already liked her a lot. Your nerves were still there, but they weren’t nearly as bad as they had initially been. 

“Oh haha, you’re so funny,” he stuck his tongue out at you, before instinctively going to set the table. May had really raised him well, “one day I’ll get to see your old pictures and we’ll see how you like it.”

“It’s so fun to tease you,” you walked back into the kitchen to help May, “besides, maybe one day our kids will be that cute.”

It was no secret that Peter wanted a family one day, and you’d both agreed that you wanted at least one child together. Your comment definitely caused Peter to feel a certain type of way and his eyes grew wide as he looked at you. He was definitely going to hang onto this feeling later when it was just the two of you. May, meanwhile, made a small sound of agreement, “you two will have adorable kids, that’s a given.”

“Oh,” your entire face warmed up as you stole a glance at Peter. He looked a mixture of both excited and embarrassed, “well I guess we’ll just have to wait and see one day.”

That seemed to quell them both as your stomach exploded with butterflies. You knew that Peter would be a great father one day and were equally sure that May would be a wonderful grandmother. You felt lucky to have them in your lives; but then, you’d known that Peter would be something special to you from the day you met him.

May hummed in content as you helped her to finish dinner. She had such a warm and calming presence and you already loved being around her. It was easy to fall into a rhythm and pattern with her and before you knew it, the three of you were sitting around the table and eating dinner. She was an excellent cook and it was such a welcome thing to behold a home cooked meal. 

Afterwards when you were all stuffed, Peter helped May with a few things around the house while the two of you cleaned up. 

“You know,” her voice was tender and gentle as she dried the dishes that you had washed, “I haven’t seen Peter this happy in a long time. It makes me happy to see him doing so well. He deserves it.”

“He does,” you agreed softly, “he makes me really happy too. He’s a good man and I…I’ve never met anyone like him before. He’s special to me.”

“He’s always been a good boy,” she agreed, looking into the living room and finding him softly speaking to himself as he moved some furniture around for her, “it was hard for him, with what happened to poor Gwen, and it took a long time for him to be himself again. I was worried I’d lost my boy too, but slowly over time he got better. And then, when I noticed just how happy he seemed, he told me about you. Well, when he first met you, I should say.”

 “I met him and we were friends for a long time before we started dating,” you looked at her in confusion but she only responded with a knowing smile. You inhaled softly as you looked over at your boyfriend. He must have felt you looking at him because his gaze quickly shifted to yours and his entire face lit up, “oh. Oh.”

“Mhmm,” she put the last of the dishes away before giving your arm a small squeeze, “needless to say I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a long time.”

“Oh May,” you blinked back the tears that threatened to spill over before hugging her. In truth Parker fashion, she hugged you tightly and rubbed your back in soothing motions, “I’ve been so nervous and excited to meet you. Peter speaks so highly of you and I understand why. Thank you for being so kind and welcoming. Peter is amazing and he always says he owes it to you. I can understand why. You’re both great.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about,” she promised softly, “as far as I’m concerned you’re family, sweetheart. If you ever need anything or need me to have a word with him, just let me know, alright?”

“I will,” you beamed at her, “I will.”

“Hey May?” Peter walked into the kitchen sheepishly, “did you, umm, make dessert by chance?”

“Of course I did,” she tutted at him before exchanging a look with you, “I made your favorite.”

“Yes!” he kissed her cheeks, “you’re the best.”

“And don’t you forget it!”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you and Peter left May’s it was late; you hadn’t expected to be gone for so long but it was just so easy and fun to hang around with Peter and May. Peter held your hand, a knowing  little smile on his face as got into the cab to go back to your apartment. You, naturally, had a big tote full of leftovers to take with you. 

You’d fallen asleep next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. He was reluctant to wake you up but he did so gently before scooping you into his arms and carrying you upstairs. You wrapped your arms around his neck and held on tightly, burrowing your face into his chest. 

“That wasn’t so bad was it, Bug?” he asked as he set you down and bent over to help slip off your heels. You felt so incredibly warm and fuzzy at the sweet but simple gesture, “you lived.”

“Shut up, Parker,” you sighed gently as he pressed a kiss to your ankle before standing back and towering over you. You moved to take off his jacket and hung it up by the door, “I think you might be officially demoted to my second favorite Parker.”

“Wow,” he put his hand on his chest and sighed dramatically, “that’s hurtful baby. I should have known better than to introduce the two of you. My favorite women are ganging up against me already.”

“Never,” you reached for his hand and started to pull him towards your bedroom. You were tired and all you wanted was to cuddle up with him. He easily obliged, lacing his fingers through yours, “you’ll always be my favorite, Peter Parker.”

You quickly stripped off your clothes before tugging at Peter’s and getting him down to his boxers. You’d worry about your makeup and everything else later. Peter pulled you into his arms as soon as you were both lying down and under the covers.

“What am I your favorite of?” he whispered, causing goosebumps to raise up on your skin as he ghosted his fingers along your soft skin. 

“My favorite everything,” you replied as thought it was the most obvious thing in the world, “my favorite best friend, my favorite boyfriend, my favorite superhero…all of it.”

“You’re my favorite too,” he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, “in case that wasn’t obvious.”

“Hmmm,” you hummed in content, “will you stay tonight? No Spider-Man-ing?”

“Yes,” he gave you a gentle squeeze, “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Unless it’s an emergency.” 

“Unless it’s an absolute emergency.”

“Good,” you horribly stifled a yawn before settling further into the pillows, “love you, spider-boy.”

“I love you too Bug.”

[mediumgayitalian]

“Oh, shoot, sorry. Go back to sleep. Sorry.”

Nico shifts, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. The light in the infirmary is low, and strangely soothing. It’s almost hard to keep his eyes open. But he manages, rubbing his knuckles under the curve of his eyesockets, and searches in the dark until he finds what woke him up.

Will stands a couple feet away from his bed, figure curled and shadowy, owlish eyes wide and almost unnaturally reflective in the dark.

“‘S’okay,” he mumbles. “Couldn’t really sleep anyway.”

“Oh.” There’s a shuffling sound, and suddenly Nico feels warmer where Will has stepped closer. “You in pain?“

“No. Just bad at sleeping.”

“Hey, me too.”

Surprise at Will’s easy admission and a little bit starstruck at the bright flash of Will’s grin, Nico doesn’t have the chance to beat himself up over being so flippantly open. His teeth seemed to glow as much as the whites of his eyes, which would be creepy, except it’s hard to feel anything but calm as a cool night breeze wafts the scent of lavender from the sill planters in every inch of the infirmary, and it’s hard to think of Will as anything but warm. Especially the hand he places, briefly, on the curve of Nico’s knee.

“Insomnia?”

“Something like that.”

“Still. Sorry for waking you up.”

Nico hums, fiddling with his skull ring. “Why were you up, anyway?”

“Oh, I won’t have time to sleep for another couple days.”

There’s a mellow cracking sound, and then all of Will’s knuckles begin to glow a soft, sunset yellow. Nico startles.

“Apollo thing,” Will explains. A smirk is now visible at the corner of his mouth, forcing a dimple on his right cheek. In his hands, almost hard to see under the glow, are three small vials of something Nico doesn’t recognize. “Getting meds and salves in order.”

Hesitantly, Nico drags his gaze away from the clinking glass bottles, forcing himself to meet Will’s eyes. They’re ridiculously bright. Is that an Apollo thing, too?

“Why does that mean you can’t sleep?”

Will gestures to the myriad of occupied beds outside the curtains Nico has pulled up. “Shitton of injured, man. I got way more people than I got stuff. I prepped for the Romans beforehand, obviously, but I didn’t have a good hand on their numbers and didn’t prep enough. I’m short on supplies. Haven’t slept since Gaea did.” At Nico’s look of alarm, he quickly assures, “But don’t worry, I had Cecil brew me something strong. It’s disgusting, so I think it might be his Coffee Redbull Matcha Heartstopper Special, With A Shot Of Crushed Caffeine Pills For Good Measure, but I’m not sure. Hands are only a little shakey, though, feel.”

In a mirror of a few days ago (fuck, Nico hopes he’s kidding; how long can people go without sleep?), he darts out and rests his hands under Nico’s. Sure enough, they’re trembling, although nothing nearly as bad as before.

“Dangerous levels of sleep deprivation aren’t as bad as delivering a baby, huh.”

Will shudders. “Don’t even joke.”

He looks so genuinely horrified that Nico can’t help but laugh. All they’ve seen, all they’ve suffered — and golden boy is gagging at the miracle of life. If Nico wasn’t so sure that he’d seen at least as many gory nightmares as Nico, if not more, he’d tease him for being squeamish.

…Actually.

“What kind of school nurse wannabe is squidged out by birth?”

“Nurse?” Will squawks, snatching his hands away (Nico finds his own hands, strangely and suddenly, cold). “I didn’t go to seven years of med school to be called a school nurse wannabe!”

Nico narrows his eyes. “You didn’t go to med school. You’re fifteen.”

“As I said.” He grins teasingly. “I didn’t go.”

It takes Nico a second, but when he gets it he cannot physically hold himself back from kicking him. Solace, weak from muffled laughter, stumbles sideways into a lamp.

“Ay! Be careful, you wanna kill the camp’s only brain surgeon?”

“If he’s being annoying,” Nico bites back. He can’t quite stop smiling, and he’s embarrassed about it, but thankfully the darkness hides his face. “There’s no way you’ve done brain surgery.”

The shitty cot Nico’s been coerced into camping on for the next three days creaks as Will perches on the edge of it.

“Have so. In the woods, two years ago, removed a brain tumour. Stressful as shit.” He flashes another sideways grin. “Couple dozen more medical emergencies under my belt, and I might actually be as qualified as a nurse in this country’s garbage medical system. Thank the gods for them, honestly. They do a shit lot more than a lot of doctors claim to.”

Sensing the topic change for what it is, Nico doesn’t press any further. “That what you wanna do?”

“Aw, man, I don’t even want to think about it. The idea of someone else running this infirmary gives me a stress ulcer. Y’all do a lot of stupid shit and frankly some of the procedures I have performed exist in no medical textbooks anywhere, medical or no.” He snorts. “Anyways.”

His hands are blazingly warm again, almost like sun through a maginifying glass, when they pat his shin twice. He stands, stretching — more bursts of light appearing along the length of his spine, lighting what his fading knuckles leave out.

“Try to sleep again, Neeks. You’ll need it.”

“Maybe I should be the one to say that to you,” Nico says. Will waves his hand dismissively, and in a fit of impulse Nico reaches out and grabs it, meeting his raised eyebrow with a stubborn set to his jaw. “I mean it, Will. No one’s awake right now. I just woke up. Why don’t you crash for an hour or so? I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

Will hesitates. “If anything happens, that’s on me. It — I can’t let it be on me.”

“Do you trust me?”

Stupid question. Of course Will doesn’t trust him, Nico let someone die in front of his eyes, Nico is the bringer of death and darkness, why would he —

“Yeah.” Will sighs. Nico looks up, startled, but the medic is eyeing one of the few spare cots, face screwed up in consideration. “You’ll wake me?”

“Immediately,” Nico assures hastily. He nods his head at the bunk next to him. “Sleep, man. You look like you need it.”

“Oh, well, just what I’ve always wanted to hear from you. You look stunning, by the way.”

Nico knows it’s a joke, but he flushes anyway. Thank Hades again for the dark infirmary, and the length of his hair.

“Whatever. Sleep or don’t.”

“I’m going, I’m going.”

In seconds he’s out of his flip-flops, slightly-scratchy blankets turned up and wrapped tightly around him all the way up to his neck.

“Thanks, Nico. I owe you.”

In the next breath, he’s out, all that’s visible of him the flutter of his light eyelashes and the tangled mop of blond hair. He snores, slightly, with every puffed exhale; a tiny, stuttered sound, not unlike a cat. It’s kind of cute, and Nico’s smiling before he realising.

“You don’t owe anybody shit.” He shakes his head fondly, leaning back onto his pillows to keep an eye out. “Goodnight, Will.”

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 15: Right Now, You’re Still My Baby

You and Joel take care of Ellie and each other. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 14, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: SMUT! Unprotected P in V sex. Childcare struggles. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5.5k

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Ellie’s sharp little cry woke you up. 

You’d slept soundly, more soundly than you had in weeks, your nose buried in Joel’s naked chest, his come slick on your thighs. 

Your eyes shot open at that realization, something that had been so overwhelming it had knocked you out before sending your heart racing now.

You’d slept with Joel. Your best friend Joel. The same man who had said it would have been better to sleep with anyone but you, the same man who needed space after you made each other come at the hotel in Dallas, the same man who had called just fucking kissing you a mistake. You’d slept with him, when your life was in complete shambles and you were desperate for what help you could find, you’d slept with Joel. 

“S’OK,” he said, his voice groggy, his large hands spreading wide on the bare skin of your back. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Stay here, I got ‘er. You need to rest.” 

He pulled himself from the tangle your limbs had made together, bed squeaking a little, and you heard him pause for a moment before padding out of the room. 

You rolled onto your back and stared up at Joel’s ceiling, a familiar sight in so many other contexts but not ones where you’d just fucked your best friend, right when you couldn’t afford to lose him. You couldn’t have him regret you, not now. 

It was still dark outside and you listened as Ellie fussed and then quieted, Joel already so much better with her than you had been. That was an incredibly low bar, you realized, but still. You wished you could be like that, have that natural instinct, be something that this child needed. He soothed her and you heard him leave her room on the monitor, leaving his room almost eerily silent.

You sat up, clutching the sheet to your naked chest and looking around to try and find something to put on in the dark. There was a discolored pile of fabric on the floor and you grabbed it, keeping the sheet tight to your skin as you reached for it even though there was no one there to look at your bare body, anyway. It was one of Joel’s oversized t-shirts and you pulled it on, feeling a little better now that you had something covering you up. 

What the fuck were you going to do now? You pulled your legs - still covered by the sheet - into your chest and gnawed on your lower lip. You couldn’t lose Joel right now, you couldn’t afford to lose Joel right now. You weren’t sure you’d ever be capable of losing him again - you’d barely survived it the first time, falling into bed with the first man who showed you a scrap of kindness and interest and look where that had landed you - but you really couldn’t do it now. 

It’s not that you’d blame him for regretting things with you. You knew there were things about yourself that were difficult and lord knew he’d dated plenty of better looking women. But fuck, if he could just regret it without pushing you away and saying how much he wished it hadn’t happened, at least for long enough for you to be able to figure out something for Ellie, then you could get through it. As long as it wasn’t permanent, it would be OK. 

“Alright sweet girl,” you heard Joel through the baby monitor, apparently back in the nursery he’d set up for your niece. “We’re gonna put you down and you’re gonna stay nice and quiet for me, alright? Think you’ve put your auntie through her paces plenty…” 

You heard him humming to her then and it took you a moment to place it as Sweet Child of Mine. The soft sound of him soothing her made you choke up. He was so good at this, built for it, it seemed, in ways you just weren’t. 

You heard the door close softly on the baby monitor and then the quiet click of his bedroom as he let himself back in. He tiptoed at first and then froze when he noticed you sitting up, watching him in the dark.  

“You should be sleeping,” he said quietly before crawling up the bed beside you. 

“Joel…” 

“You’re exhausted,” he said, draping his arm over your chest and gently nudging you onto your back. “I got her, she’s back down and it’s only about three, you need another four hours at least…” 

“But Ellie…” 

“She’s OK,” he said, lying down next to you, his arm still over you, just enough pressure to keep you from getting up. “She’s out. You need to sleep.”

You looked at him. He was on his side, his face so close to yours, close enough that your noses almost touched. You realized that he was still shirtless, his skin warm next to your own. 

“Joel,” you whispered again, like saying his name was going to somehow untangle this tension that had fallen between the two of you. His hand left your shoulder, tracing his fingers over his shirt that you’d put on, trailing up your neck before smoothing your hair back and cupping your cheek. 

“It can wait ’til the morning,” he said softly. You opened your mouth to argue but he moved closer, his forehead against yours and you could feel the cotton of his pajama pants against your bare legs. “It’s OK baby. I’ve got you.” 

Your eyes dropped to his lips before you could really help it, remembering how he tasted, how soft his mouth was on yours. 

“It’s OK baby,” he said again and you rolled onto your side so you were facing him, keenly aware that you were still naked from the waist down. His hand skimmed over your body, his palm shaping to your breast, arching over your curves before stopping at the bare skin of your hip. 

He waited for just a moment before kissed you, giving you a chance to pull away. You didn’t take it. Instead, you kissed him back. It was gentle at first, hesitant, like you were both afraid of what the other was going to do. It was Joel who broke the kiss, pulling away ever so slightly but still close enough that your bodies were aligned, that you were breathing the same air. 

“This OK?” He asked, a tremble in his voice. You just nodded quickly, breaths shaky, not sure you’d be able to string words together if you tried. 

“Good,” he said, his hand running down your thigh, around the back of your knee to hitch it up over his hip, pulling your bare center against him as you gasped. He was hard, you could feel the thick of him through his pants and your heart beat faster. He tugged his pants down just enough to free his cock, the silken softness of his skin against your most tender place making you moan. “‘Cause I need to be inside you one more time.” 

He pressed into you, his passage eased by the slick of your come and his from just hours earlier and you moaned at the stinging stretch as he buried himself to the root in you. Joel pressed his hand into the small of your back, holding you right where he seemed to want you as he ground his cock deep into you. The head of him tight to the most sensitive parts of your body made you pant and keen and he kissed you, so firm it was almost harsh, his beard scratching your skin as he fucked into you. 

Things were so much more intense with Joel than you were used to them being. It’s not as though you’d had many lovers in your life - you’d only ever slept with Joel and Gale - but you didn’t think sex could be that different between people. You’d always kind of assumed you’d gotten things mixed up in the memory of your first time with Joel. You’d never had sex before, after all, so of course things would have seemed intense. It had been your first time in a foreign land, the terrain eventually becoming familiar territory as you started sleeping with Gale. It was a memory, you thought, that needed to be taken with a healthy dose of skepticism because of its very nature. It couldn’t have been that way. But you knew now that you were wrong. It was that different with Joel, it had been that intense, it had felt that good, something about feeling him inside of you touching a part of your very being that had been dormant since that night when you were just a clumsy teenager.

It shocked you now, how suddenly desperate you became. He wasn’t nearly close enough, wasn’t fucking you nearly hard enough, there just wasn’t enough and you needed more. 

You clutched at him, needy and aching, rolling your hips into him, tongue delving into his mouth. He moaned into you and it made your cunt clench around him. His thrusts stuttered when it did and he pulled his mouth from yours, panting, his eyes ranging over your face. You pushed him onto his back, leg tight over his hip to keep him buried inside and you were straddling him, settling on top of him as your body adjusted to the way his filled it. 

“Oh fuck,” he breathed, his hands going to your thighs, his thick fingers splaying wide over you. You froze for a moment, breathless, looking down at him spread out below you. Your heart stuttered, terrified that he’d changed his mind. “Christ, love seein’ you in my fuckin’ clothes…” 

You groaned, starting to ride him. You moved slow at first, getting a feel for him. You hadn’t been on top in a long time - Gale preferred being in charge - and Joel’s cock was so thick and so long that you could feel so clearly just how deep he reached inside of you. It took you a moment to find your rhythm, to figure out just how to move on him so that he was filling you and not overwhelming you. 

“That’s it,” he whispered, his hands sliding up your legs, below where the shirt was pooling around your hips to your waist. You groaned at his touch, trying to push away the gnawing fear of Joel feeling you there and finding something he didn’t want as his fingers sank into the soft parts of you. You angled your hips so your clit was tight to the base of his stomach, grinding against his warm, soft skin, building your orgasm higher. “Feel so good baby, so fucking good…” 

You just moaned and closed your eyes as you rode him harder, faster. Feeling this good and being this aware that it was because of Joel felt dangerous. Some part of you, even now, in this moment, knew that it would be temporary. Or, at the very least, the feelings behind it one sided. Looking at his face - looking him in the eye - while you made yourself come on his cock might just be the end of you. You weren’t sure you’d be able to handle losing this with him after that. 

That didn’t keep you from moaning his name as your body drew tighter around him. He thrust up into you, meeting your every movement, his hands clinging to you the way your channel was clinging to him, too. 

“I’m gonna come,” you panted, barely even aware of what you were saying. “I’m gonna come, Joel, I’m gonna come, I…” 

“Good,” he sounded desperate, fucked out. “Want you to come, please come for me, need to feel you come…” 

Your hips stuttered and you bit your lip and buried your face in your shoulder as best you could to muffle your strangled cry as your pussy rippled and fluttered around his cock and he groaned with it, pressing his cock into you while pulling down on your waist. 

“Fuckin’ hell,” he panted as you came. One of his hands flew to your clit, rubbing you in tight little circles. “Christ, can feel you throbbing on me, so goddamn good baby.” 

“Why…” you panted for a moment, trying to get ahold of your thoughts again as your climax eased. “Why are you calling me that? I’m… fuck… I’m not your baby.” 

“Ain’t you?” He asked, still sounding breathless. The hand that had been working your clit went back to hold your waist. “At least for tonight?” 

You opened your eyes and looked down at him. Even in the dim haze from the streetlight outside his window he looked desperate, his eyes wide as he watched you closely. Your heart pounded in the cage of your chest. 

“OK,” you nodded, panting. “At least for tonight.” 

He swallowed hard enough that you could watch his throat move with it before he nodded and started guiding your hips over him again. Your second orgasm was already starting to build - so much faster than it ever had with Gale - when his hands left your skin to take hold of the hem of the shirt. You stilled for a moment, frowning down at him. 

“Lemme see you,” he said. “Want to look at my baby…” Your pussy tightened at his words and he groaned, closing his eyes for a moment. “Holy… fuck, please baby. Lemme see you.” 

You just nodded before helping him take the shirt off and he moaned, sitting up below you, making your hand fly to his shoulder as his arms went around your waist. He buried his face in your chest, kissing over your breast bone up to your throat, running his teeth over your skin to your chin and you moaned, arching your back into him. The feeling of his skin tight on yours, his mouth on your throat was making the heat inside you pool low and full. There was so much need inside you, so much aching pleasure it seemed almost too big for your body. Like if it built any more, it would burst out of your skin and you’d be lost to it. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he groaned, his lips at the hollow of your throat as you rode him. Your arms went around him, clutching his head against you and his hold on you tightened. “Want you to come with me, baby. Can feel it, you got one more right there, want you to give it to me. Gimme everything, baby, know you want to…” 

“Joel,” you whispered, riding him so hard the movements were getting sloppy. You could feel the wet of his come and yours dripping out of you, making a slick mess of your thighs and his stomach. 

“S’OK,” he said, pressing you tighter. “Just me, baby. S’OK. Give it all to me, just give in to it, want to feel you.” 

You couldn’t help but obey then, your orgasm this time even stronger than before, seeming to seize your whole being as you came undone around him. Joel thrust up into you twice more before holding himself deep and moaning into your chest and you could feel the heavy throb of his cock as he pumped you full of his come. 

When the aftershocks of your orgasm finally seemed to fade, you pulled back from him, just enough that you could look down and see his face, your stomachs still tight together, his cock still buried deep inside you. 

Your eyes searched his for a moment, as though there was some answer for you there. How did we end up here? What do we do now? Where do we go next? You didn’t think he knew any better than you did. 

Instead of answering your unspoken questions, he leaned forward - just enough that you could feel his cock move within you - and pressed his lips to your throat before pulling back again. 

“In the morning,” he said softly. “We can talk in the morning. Right now, you’re still my baby. Lemme take care of you.” 

You just nodded and let him carefully guide you onto the bed beside him, groaning a little as his cock left your body. He adjusted his pajama pants so his slick cock was covered and he went to the bathroom, coming back with a warm washcloth. He gently cleaned between your legs, panting a little as he did, before he grabbed the shirt you’d picked up off his floor. You put it back on while he found your panties and he helped you put those on, guiding each foot through a leg hole before guiding them up your calves, your thighs. He nudged you onto your back and you lifted your hips as he redressed you. You turned your head to watch him lay beside you, his eyes on you the way yours were on him. 

“I’ll get up with her next time she cries,” he said quietly. “Try to sleep if you can.” 

“But…” you frowned, but he cut you off. 

“I got it,” he said. “Told you. Lemme take care of you.” 

You swallowed, trying not to choke, and nodded he gently moved beside you, nudging you onto your side before pressing against the back of you, his legs curving against yours, his arm finding the perfect place to rest between your ribs and your hips. His breath was warm on your neck and he trailed his nose over your skin before pressing a kiss into your shoulder. 

“Get some rest, Goldie girl,” he said quietly in your ear. “I’ll take care of you.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered back. 

He squeezed you a little tighter. 

“Any time, baby.” 

***

Fuck. 

That was all Joel could really think as he slowly bounced Ellie in his kitchen as the sun rose, the sky all pink and orange, your infant niece a warm bundle in his arms. She was eating well, at least, making those tiny, fragile little baby sounds Joel had loved so much when Sarah was a newborn as she drank her bottle. 

He was fairly certain he’d managed to grab Ellie before she woke you up. He hadn’t really fallen back asleep after fucking you a second time - Jesus, what had he been fucking thinking? - he had more drifted in and out of consciousness as he held you in the dark. He had his arms around you, he could feel you breathing, he could smell your skin and you were warm and safe and close. It’s not like he wasn’t tired - he was - but his mind was so hung up on soaking up your presence he couldn’t seem to quiet it enough to sleep. 

So when Ellie started to fuss quietly in her crib about 6:30, he was awake to hear it. You were passed out, your whole body soft and relaxed, and he delicately, reluctantly pulled himself away from you to go take care of her, not bothering with a shirt in the hopes of getting to her before she started really wailing. He turned the baby monitor off when he got in the room before he changed her diaper and he hoped her crying jag as he cleaned her up was far enough away that you slept through it. He was so worried about her waking you that he scooped her into his chest before he put her onesie back on her and she calmed quickly, her skin on his. 

“Oh you like that, huh, baby girl?” He asked quietly, shifting his weight from foot to foot as she curled her little legs into her stomach against him. She cooed but didn’t fuss, settling into his chest. He smiled a little. Sarah had been big on the skin on skin thing at this age, too. “Alright, we can wait a bit. I don’t need a shirt too bad, do I?” 

He swayed with her for a little while, until it seemed like some change in the motion wouldn’t set her off and then he took her to the kitchen, making her a bottle and watching her as she ate, her big eyes watching him with an almost burning curiosity. 

“I know,” he said quietly to her. “I’m still the weird one, ain’t I? S’OK though. Your auntie is here, she’s got you, too. And I’m sure your mama will be back soon. She loves you so much baby girl, I know she does. We all do.” 

As Ellie finished the bottle, Joel grabbed a dish towel from the handle of the oven and threw it over his shoulder before tucking the baby against his shoulder. He bounced her gently and patted her back, waiting for the inevitable spit up and hoping this would settle her little stomach enough that she would sleep and so would you. 

“What am I gonna do, huh?” He asked her quietly, pacing the kitchen. It’s not like he was actually expecting an answer but he was still a little let down when none came. “Wish I was better at figuring this shit out. She deserves better than however I’m about to fuck up.” 

And he had royally fucked up this time, he was sure of that. He wasn’t sure how he kept ending up in bed with you - maybe you just needed a physical outlet but were too gun shy of casual sex to get it the way he usually did, maybe you just got swept up in things when he was an asshole who tried to make your relationship something you clearly didn’t want it to be - but he couldn’t keep doing this. It wasn’t fair to you.

“Dad?” Sarah yawned, frowning, as she came into the kitchen before her eyes went wide and she squealed. “Is that Ellie?” 

He shushed her, glancing back toward his bedroom. 

“Goldie’s still sleepin’,” he said quietly. “And this one is dozing off, gotta keep it down baby girl.” 

“Sorry,” she whispered, still looking excited. “Can I see her? She’s so little!” 

“Yeah, OK,” Joel said. “But you gotta do me a favor. In the room we set up for her is one of those bouncers… looks almost like a car seat but without so much plastic at the bottom. Can you bring me that? I’ll put her in that and you can look at her all you want while I make us breakfast, alright?” 

“Yeah!” She darted off, Joel hearing her feet pound on the first few steps of the stairs before she paused and then moved slowly, quietly, the rest of the way up. He shook his head a little, still swaying with the baby. He wondered how long it would be before Sarah started asking him for a baby sister again, something he was in no position to give her. It’s not like he was in a relationship and he was in no shape to go looking for one, especially not as hung up on you as he was. 

Sarah came back and put the bouncer in the middle of the kitchen table, sitting eagerly next to it, watching as Joel kept settling the baby. He had his back to her, working his way toward the opposite end of the kitchen, when she spoke. 

“Aunt Goldie!” She said, sounding about as happy to see you as she’d been to see Ellie. Joel turned around so fast that he almost tripped over his own feet, finding you standing in the entry to his kitchen in his shirt and his pajama pants, the legs too long on you. Your eyes were wide and on him and one of your arms was crossed protectively over the front of you as you watched him. Sarah didn’t seem to notice. “When did you get here! Why do you have Ellie? How are you? What’s…” 

“Alright, kiddo,” Joel cut her off, still watching you. “Let’s not give her a pop quiz first thing in the morning…” 

“It’s alright,” you said, finally tearing your eyes away from Joel to look at his daughter. “I came over pretty late last night. I’m giving Anna a break for a little while but babies are a lot of work and your dad was nice enough to offer to help with Ellie.” 

Sarah just nodded, not questioning any of it. 

“Can I help with her, too?” She asked. “I can hold her and feed her and I can learn how to change a diaper even though that sounds kind of gross but that’s OK and…” 

“Sure,” you laughed a little. “You can help. I think you’ll be really good at it, Ellie really likes you.” 

“She does?” Sarah’s face lit up. 

“Mhmm,” you said, sitting across from her at the table. “Remember when you held her at the hospital and she was all calm and relaxed? She likes you.” 

She beamed. 

“Cool.” 

“Alright,” Joel said, satisfied with how quiet Ellie seemed to be. “Think I can set her down, she’s been fed but the rest of us still need food. Scrambled eggs? Yeah?” 

“Yup,” Sarah nodded, settling further into the chair. 

He looked to you, brows raised. 

“Um,” you said, watching him. “Yeah, sure, that sounds good.” 

He nodded and put Ellie in the bouncer. Her little face scrunched in her sleep and he waited for a moment, ready to scoop her back up again, but she settled and he strapped her in, taking the spit up covered towel off his shoulder as he did. 

“Baby girl, do me a favor, go toss this in the laundry room and grab me a t-shirt,” he said, passing the towel to Sarah.

“Anything to get you to put clothes on,” she teased good naturedly, taking the towel and scampering off. 

You watched her go as Joel went to the fridge to get out the eggs and the bacon and the hashbrowns. 

“Joel,” you whispered as he set the carton of eggs on the counter. He looked over to you, your eyes wide, hair in disarray. “What are we…” 

“Sarah’s got a birthday party in a few hours,” he said, just as quietly. “Friend’s picking her up. We can talk then.” 

The deadline sat like a rock in his stomach the rest of the morning, his fate with you looming over his head as he made the three of you breakfast and did Sarah’s hair and showed you the angle he’d been holding Ellie at to take her bottle. When Sarah’s friend came to the door and she ran outside, Joel stood on his front stoop and waved goodbye as she got into the car for far longer than he needed to, afraid of what going back inside could mean. 

But, eventually, he couldn’t put it off any longer and he found you there, Ellie starting to fuss in your arms as you paced with her around the kitchen. 

“It’s OK,” you said, your voice thick as you tried to soothe her. “I know, it’s hard, but you’re OK and…” 

“Here,” Joel said, tugging his shirt up and over his head and draping it over the back of a chair. Your eyes went wide and he realized how he must look. “No, not… she likes the skin on skin stuff, guess it’s a thing with babies sometimes. Calms them down, here.” 

He held his hands out and you hesitated before passing her to him. He pulled her into his bare chest and she let out one little cry and then relaxed into him, her little, huffing breaths calming. He swayed with her, bouncing her rhythmically and you watched, arms crossed over your chest, an almost pained look on your face. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Joel asked quietly. 

“Why can’t I do that for her?” You asked, your eyes meeting his. “Why can’t I be that safe place for her when she needs it? I want to be, I’d do anything for her but…” 

“Take off your shirt,” he said. You opened your mouth to protest but he cut you off before you could. “The skin is helping her right now and… well, it’s not like I haven’t seen you, so…” 

“Right,” you said, wincing a little. But you obeyed all the same, taking your shirt off and putting it next to Joel’s on the back of the chair. He gently pulled Ellie away from his chest and held her out to you. You took her reverently and brought her to your chest as she started to squirm and fuss. She seemed confused for a moment when she touched your skin and your face fell but then she settled, cooing contentedly against you. You smiled in that way you had, slow and hesitant and then all at once as you watched her there, swaying with your niece as she took comfort in you.

“See?” Joel said. Watching you with a baby like this making him ache for you. He wanted to do this with you for a baby that looked like you and him together, wanted to make a family with you even though he knew that wanting that would only lead to heartache. “You can do it.” 

“Yeah,” you laughed quietly, looking at him with misty eyes. “That’s the first time I’ve done that, she’s never calmed like that for me so fast, it’s always been because she wore herself out and never because…” 

You trailed off, looking back down to Ellie, pressing a kiss into the soft tufts of hair on the crown of her head. Joel just watched you for a moment, humming to her, knowing just how soft your bare skin would be if he reached out and touched you in that moment. 

Instead, he ducked quickly into the living room and grabbed the throw blanket from the back of the couch.

“Here,” he said, and you looked up as he held the blanket toward you. “Want me to…” 

You frowned a little but looked back down at Ellie before you nodded. 

“Yeah,” you said, a twinge in your voice. “Thanks.” 

He draped the blanket carefully around you so he couldn’t see the parts of you he’d spent so much time touching the night before - parts he’d kill to touch again - as you soothed the baby in your arms until she calmed enough that she could be set down again. 

“Let’s put her back in the crib,” he said gently. “Then we won’t need to keep an eye on her and we can… we can talk.” 

You nodded and Joel led the way to the room he’d set up for Ellie. You slowly, carefully, lowered her into the crib and he turned the baby monitor on before the two of you backed out of the room as silently as you could. 

Joel led the way to his bedroom and you hovered by the door as he got the receiver to the baby monitor, the blanket tight around your body. He went to leave, to have this conversation somewhere else but you stayed where you were, your gaze locked on the bed that was still a mess from everything you’d done the night before. 

“What are we doing, Joel?” You asked quietly.

“Taking care of Ellie,” he said, even though he knew that wasn’t what you were talking about. 

“No,” you shook your head. “I mean what are we doing? You and me together, what are we doing? What did we do?” 

“Goldie…” 

“I’ve been seeing someone,” you said it like you were trying not to cry. “I have Ellie to take care of, I have to find Anna, I have a book I need to finish, I can’t… I can’t handle you disappearing on me right now, Joel, I can’t lose you, I can’t do it, please, I…” 

“Hey,” he said when your voice started to quiver, going to you and taking your face in his hand, making you look at him. “It’s OK, I’m not going anywhere and you’re not either, alright? We don’t… it… we…”

He closed his eyes for a moment. He couldn’t look at you and find the words he knew he needed to say. He took a deep breath and pressed on.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he said again, opening his eyes and looking at you. “I… I know how you feel and… it’s alright, I’m OK with that, it doesn’t have to be weird. This can… it can just be something that happened and we move on, it can be something we do again and we just deal with it… it’s OK is what I’m saying. Nothing else has to change. You’re my best friend, I don’t want to lose you again. It doesn’t have to be like it was then, we can just… it’s different now. We can figure it out.” 

You looked at him for a moment, his heart thudding heavy in his chest as your eyes searched his. He wasn’t sure what answer you were looking for there but then, it didn’t really matter. He’d tell you whatever you wanted if it kept you close. 

“You and me, Goldie,” he said quietly. “We can figure it out.” 

Your eyes dropped to his lips for a moment, so fast he thought he might have imagined it, and then you nodded. 

“OK,” you said. “We can figure it out.” 

Next Chapter

A/N: So they kind of talked 😌

Look. I promise I have something in mind for these two that I think makes sense for the characters and their story, I swear I'm not dragging this out to be mean! I appreciate you sticking with the story, even as these two kind of tap dance around their feelings for a little while longer. Nearly two decades is just a long time to have stuff buried to just bring up and work through!

It is coming, though. Promise!

Thank you for reading! As always, feel free to yell at me in the comments or in my ask box. Love you!!

[7s3ven]

okay I feel like you would be the perfect person to write this request! Obviously you don’t have to write it if you don’t want to :)it and idea for a Luke castellan x reader (and spoilers for the books/series if you haven’t read the books or know the plot!)

Is there anyway you’d be interesting in writing a Luke x reader where they’re a daughter of Poseidon fic where he betray the reader and like poisons them instead of percy but reader and Luke where in a relationship??? Idk mad woman by Taylor’s swift like opening lyrics give off that sort of vibe sorry if this makes no sense 😭

THE WAY I GASPED AND SHOUTED "THAT'S EVIL". Nahhh, poor Y/N. I feel so bad for the suffering I'm going to put her through...

( master list )

POISON AND TOXIN. luke (pjo)

IN WHICH... Luke commits the unthinkable and Y/N no longer wants any part in his life. Unfortunately for her, Luke isn’t ready to let her go.

"I'm takin' my time, takin' my time. 'Cause you took everything from me. Watchin' you climb, watchin' you climb over people like me."

Warnings : spoilers, details will differ (I haven’t read the books in ages), obsessive love, yandere! luke, kidnapping, angst, betrayal, toxic relationship, mentions of sex, manipulation, y/n + luke know they’re toxic but they can’t stay away from each other

—

The last few days without Percy had been uneventful to say the most. Y/N groaned as she slowly sat up, clutching her aching head. The pain was pounding against her skull, causing her to quietly scoff. She groggily reached for a bottle of pills beside her bed, taking one to relieve the pressure.

The harsh light from the sun seared into the room and she groaned, squinting her eyes to protect them.

“Another late night, Y/N?” Harmon, a boy from the Apollo cabin, called out as she exited her cabin to breathe in the morning air. He jogged over to a swaying Y/N.

“Yeah. It doesn’t feel right without Percy.” Y/N groaned, running a hand through her untidy hair. She probably looked like a mess right now but with all the thoughts rushing through her mind, she didn’t care.

It felt wrong without Percy. All those years alone had done some damage on her and it had been exciting to have someone new in her cabin, for a little while at least. While Percy occupied the bed in the corner of the dusty room, Y/N’s nightmares came to a temporary halt. She was happy for the time being, her dreams filled with pretty flowers and romantic settings instead of chilling monsters and bony hands threatening to drag her to the bottom of the ocean.

“How’s Luke?” Harmon questioned, causing Y/N to heave an annoyed sigh. She rolled her E/C sighed, scowling.

“As distant as ever.” She sneered. She lifted her head, making eye contact with the one person they were talking about. Y/N held strong eye contact with Luke before glancing back to Harmon, smiling at him. “Have you had breakfast yet?” She questioned, tilting her head to the side. “Do you know if there’s any food left?”

“There might be. You woke up pretty late.” Harmon grinned.

“I will see you later, then. I have to make myself look presentable and not like a raccoon that just crawled out of a garbage can.” Y/N laughed at her own joke as she waltzed back into her cabin, kicking the door closed. She hummed under her breath as she pulled the crop top she slept in off, replacing it with her bra and the bright orange shirt she hated so much.

She quietly yelped when her door creaked open, thinking it was someone else. She felt a little relieved when it was only Luke. He stood there in all his glory, arms folded over his chest and a look on his face that suggested he wasn't happy at all. "What was that?" He questioned, sitting down on Y/N's bed as she looked at him in confusion.

"Uh... what?" She asked, her eyebrows furrowing. Luke scoffed at her perplexed face, not believing it for a second.

"You were flirting with that Apollo boy. You're my girlfriend, not his." Luke snapped, anger glazing over his usual kind eyes. Y/N was taken aback, staring at him with her red-tinted lips parted in surprise.

"I wasn't... what? Luke, I wasn't flirting with Harmon. He's my friend." Y/N resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she slid on a pair of pants. She could feel Luke's gaze watching her every move and wandering over her waist.

What had become of Luke? She was at camp before he even arrived and she was the one to show him around, introducing the boy to the perilous life of a demigod. Ever since that damned quest, he had been acting different. More closed-off, more secretive with someone he once shared everything with, and he let his temper get the best of him; always shouting at people and letting his anger flare up like he was Clarisse.

Annabeth could sense the change too.

"What's with you, Luke? You used to be fine with me talking to Harmon." Y/N took a careful step towards her boyfriend, not wanting to upset him even more.

"That was before he started staring at you like you were the only girl he could ever date." Luke jeered as he deeply frowned. Y/N smoothened out her messy bedsheets before taking a seat next to him.

She stared at him, not really knowing what to reply with. Her breath shuddered as she shrugged. "I guess I could... talk to him less?" She muttered, causing Luke's face to light up. He instantly smiled, pulling Y/N into a tight embrace.

"I love you." He whispered, pressing a light kiss to the side of her neck. Y/N blinked a few times, thickly gulping.

"I... I love you too, Luke." His hands felt like blistering metal on her bare arms but she couldn't find the courage to pull away, in fear he'd hurt her or leave her. Luke had never hit her, thankfully, but his words sometimes pierced her soul and he left her crying under her sheets, wondering what she had done wrong.

"I'll see you after archery, alright?" Luke ended the hug.

Y/N stared at him in confusion. "But... I thought you were teaching the newbies archery and I'd be showing someone else around?" She spluttered.

"Nah. I changed your job. Newcomer's a boy and I don't want him to get any ideas." Luke grinned and Y/N couldn't say no to his charming face. He passionately kissed her, cupping her face in his large hands to pull her closer.

"I should get going, Luke." Y/N breathed but he tugged her back.

"You can afford to leave them for a few minutes." He whispered, dragging Y/N onto his lap. She couldn't stop her cheeks from flushing bright red despite his hands harshly digging into her skin and his grip being so tight that she couldn't squirm away, even if she wanted to. Luke had no interest in whatever the new kid was saying. He kept babbling on and eventually, Luke managed to tune out his voice. The pair ended up in the arena and the boy, whose name was Gil, nudged Luke.

"Who's that?" Gil questioned, pointing at Y/N. Luke clenched his jaw and harshly cleared his throat. He placed his hands on Gil's shoulders, squeezing him tighter than needed.

"Y/N L/N." He muttered. "Pretty little thing, ain't she? She's great with archery. May as well be Apollo's daughter with that skill." Gil didn't notice the dark look in Luke's eyes, too preoccupied with craning his neck to catch another longing glimpse of Y/N. Luke cleared his throat, "The tour's over. I trust you'll be able to find the Hermes cabin by yourself?"

Gil mindlessly nodded.

Luke walked over to Y/N, tapping her on the shoulder. He kissed her cheek, making sure Gil saw his not-so-subtle advances. "What was that for?" She asked as she turned to Luke. The young demigods groaned at the sight of a couple and Y/N quietly laughed, effortlessly shushing them.

"I think you've had enough practice for today. Come back tomorrow, same time." Y/N said to the children, ushering them away. Luke slung an arm around her shoulder as they walked side by side.

"You have to stop attracting attention from other guys." Luke uttered to break the peaceful silence.

"What?" Y/N lightly gasped, offended. She glowered at Luke, quietly scoffing. "Oh, so it's my fault now?"

Luke shrugged, pressing his lips into an annoyed thin line. "I'm just saying. You wear low-waisted pants and a shirt that's too small." Y/N should have punched him for that comment but she was sure that Luke could do a lot worse to her pretty face.

"My clothes are not an invitation." Y/N quickly snapped.

"When did you start disrespectfully talking back?"

"It's hardly disrespectful, Luke. I'm simply standing up for myself. I do not condone your jealous behavior and troublesome remarks." Y/N harshly poked his chest, almost angrily baring her teeth at him. "Talk to me when you regain your senses. It's not my damn fault that you feel so threatened by other boys that you start blaming me."

Luke ran his tongue over his teeth as he watched Y/N storm off. He bit the inside of his cheek before huffing in frustration. Y/N would forgive him for his harsh and cold words in no time, she always did. Especially when he'd sneak into her cabin at night with her permission and press her hips deep into her squeaky mattress.

Y/N went to lunch furious and still fuming. A part of her wanted to wear an over-sized shirt to please Luke while the other refused to back down. What gave him the right to dictate her life while he could do whatever he wanted simply because of his gender?

Y/N was even angrier to see Luke standing at the Aphrodite table, entertaining the giggling girls who he knew had a thing for him. She gripped her fork tightly and jumped when someone slid into the seat next to her.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Y/N recognised him as the Gil boy, or whatever his name was. She raised her eyebrows as her lips curled into a slight sneer.

“Do I… know you?” She asked, “Only Poseidon kids are allowed to sit here and until my brother is back, nobody but me should be here.”

Gil quickly stood up, his knees hitting the table. “Sorry. I didn’t realise. I’ll, uh, go back to the Hermes table. Sorry, again.” He ran off while Y/N sighed. She picked at her half-eaten food before deciding she was no longer hungry. It was a rash decision but as soon as she reached the wildly dancing fire, she threw her food and plate in. Her father wouldn’t be too pleased but he could live with it.

Luke’s sharp gaze followed Y/N as she left the cheerful atmosphere. He quietly chuckled and smirked. If there was one thing that he knew about Y/N, it was that she didn’t handle jealousy too well either.

He left the Aphrodite table without an excuse, not caring about the girls drunk with love. “Hey, Y/N, honey, did that Gil kid upset you? I understand that he’s a little annoying but I can talk to him if you want.” Luke clasped his hands around her wrist, forcing her to stop walking so quickly.

“It’s not his fault!” Y/N exclaimed, spinning around. Her eyes were red and the tears welling up in her eyes shone in the dim sun. “It’s yours, Luke! You treat me like I’m some… some girl who worships the ground you walk on! Well, I don’t! I have some self-respect left. And if you want to flirt with other girls then that’s fine by me. But make sure you break up with me first because I’m not putting up with any of your bullshit.”

Luke chuckled, “Harsh words, don’t you think?” He almost jumped when Y/N let out a scream.

“You never take me seriously! All you do is play around and then you get mad at me for factors I can’t control! Yet you always brush me off when I’m trying to resolve things. You isolate me from my friends so I’m easier to mess with! Well, are you done now? Have you had enough fun?!”

“I’m not manipulating you. You’re crazy to think that. I love you, Y/N.”

“No! That’s not true! That’s a lie!” Y/N pulled at the end of her hair, “You fell in love with the idea of me! You’re in love with your version of me that lives inside your head! And then you get mad at me because I make a mistake and your Y/N isn’t supposed to make mistakes!But I’m not like her, Luke! You have pushed me too far and when I finally break, suddenly I’m the crazy one?! You always call me crazy. So guess what, maybe I am insane!” Y/N heavily panted as tears spilled over her hot cheeks, cascading down and temporarily staining her shirt. She had always been a kind soul but there was one particular flaw Y/N hated; her habit of crying whenever she was mad.

“If you won’t end our relationship then I will. We’re over, Luke. I’ve had enough of your jealousy and if you can’t accept that I have guy friends then maybe you need to think twice before attacking me.” Y/N reached up, grasping the necklace she had made Luke that hung around his neck, and yanking it off.

Luke watched in despair as the colourful beads dropped one by one to the floor, rolling under the green blades of grass. “Are you crazy?” He muttered, looking up. “You can’t leave me… I’m all you have.” He clutched his shirt, balling up the fabric, and he took long strides towards Y/N. “I made you into who you are. I created you from nothing. Before me, you were only a girl half-decent at archery. Now, you’re a prodigy. You would’ve been lost without my guidance and you have the guts to break up with me?!”

Y/N didn’t flinch, even when Luke’s voice pierced her sensitive ears. “It’s like you said, Luke. I am crazy. Breakups happen so deal with it.” She threw the remaining beads and the leather string at him before walking away, most likely to stay in the cool comforts of her cabin until Annabeth and Percy returned.

Luke could barely contain his rage and he hurriedly kneeled down to collect the beads, or at least the ones he could find.

Each bead and charm seemed to bring back a different memory of them arguing or fighting over a pointless topic. Luke sighed as he leaned his head back, knowing he had made a mistake.

But if there was one thing Luke Castellan refused to do, it was give up. So he stared at Y/N all throughout dinner. And even when Y/N made it clear that the sight of him made her sick, he still knocked on her door at night.

“Y/N.” He called out, impatiently tapping his foot against the old wood. “I’m sorry. Okay? Is that what you want to hear? I’m ready to talk everything out. I’m calm now.”

Those were the exact words he had uttered to Y/N last week, promising he would change but he never did. Y/N had learned her lesson from that, refusing to open the door and going as far as locking it.

“Y/N. You’re being unreasonable.” Luke grumbled as he desperately tried to open the door, barging into it with his shoulder. He heard Y/N laugh.

“That’s ironic considering you’re trying to break my door down.” She spoke over the hooting owls and buzzing cicadas. “You always promise you’ll change but you never do. Don’t you think it’s time to stop making empty promises?”

Luke could hear her voice waver and he felt a small pang of guilt, knowing he was the reason behind her agonising sorrow.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, not only to Y/N but to everybody he was about to hurt, even to his father who was the most wretched man in this world. He repeated his sentence, leaning his head against the door. It suddenly swung open and Luke almost crashed into Y/N whom was still gripping the door knob.

She quietly sighed, her gaze immediately spotting his mournful eyes and his lips pulled into a guiltily frown. Y/N hesitated before stepping aside.

“This is your last chance, Luke.” She mumbled but he knew she was lying. She loved him far too much to devoid herself of his charming face.

Luke smiled as he brushed past Y/N. She could never resist him, after all. In a way, Luke pitied her for being so forgiving and sick with love because she and Percy were in the most danger out of everybody, even if they couldn’t see it yet.

The day Percy returned was the day Luke decided to be a hopeless romantic. He took an unsuspecting Y/N into the woods, twirling her around a few times because she always liked dancing.

While Y/N was distracted by the babbling brook and dipping her hand in the cool water, Luke clasped his hands behind his back. He was thinking of what to do next, let Y/N to fend for herself or he could struggle to protect her.

But sacrificing so much for a mere girl seemed pointless, even if Luke was developing strong feelings for Y/N. He quickly clicked his fingers, catching Y/N’s attention. She glanced over her shoulder, her joyful smiling fading as she laid eyes on the huge pit scorpion.

She scrambled back while Luke watched her pathetic attempt at escaping.

“I wouldn’t.” He uttered, “Pit scorpions can jump fifteen feet and slice right through your clothes. You’ll be dead in sixty seconds. But, of course, you already knew that because you love reading about these creatures. That’s why you look so frightened.”

Y/N looked at Luke, searching for any kindness in his eyes to offer her mercy. There was none. His eyes were like a void, empty and dark and lacking any human emotions.

He looked nothing like her Luke who she had met on his first day of camp, scared, annoyed, and baffled at what had become of his dead friend Thalia.

“It’s a shame I have to end our relationship here. I was starting to enjoy your presence, but giving up all my hard work for you is hardly beneficial.”

“What?” Y/N spluttered, trying to kick the scorpion away. She only made it angrier and it clapped his claws at her, ignoring Luke altogether. The scorpion’s tail was raised in hostility and Y/N held back a loud shudder of fear, knowing Luke was thriving off her terror. “Luke… what are you talking about?”

He laughed as if she were an idiot. She felt like one for trusting him despite how much he hurt her. “You don’t get it, do you? I want revenge. On my father and on the gods who have forsaken their children! They don’t give a shit about us. They never did. To them, we’re just some nitwits who are stupid enough to suck up to them. I was the one who stole the bolt, Y/N. Not Hades. And I was the one who sent that hellhound after Percy.”

“Luke, I trusted you.” Y/N thickly gulped.

“A fatal mistake.”

“No. That’s our parents you’re talking about, Luke. And you wouldn’t try and kill Percy… would you? Not my brother. You know how much he means to me.” Y/N’s eyesight turned glassy as she furrowed her eyebrows.

It all made sense now. His sour mood and his bitter attitude. All those nights she spent crying over his glass sharp words. Y/N felt foolish for not noticing what he was doing, but she was far too preoccupied with saving her relationship with Luke at the time.

“What did you think I’d say to that? Join you?” Y/N huffed.

Luke’s eyes flickered to the large bug that was only getting more furious as the seconds ticked by. “Does a scorpion sting when fighting back?” He simply questioned.

Y/N’s hardened gaze bored into his soul as she answered. “They strike to kill… and you know I will too.”

Yes, Luke knew that. Y/N was an exceptional fighter with strategic moves rivalling Annabeth’s. Every carefully planned attack she dealt was like instant death. Luke knew if she had a weapon then she wouldn’t hesitate to land a blow. But he also knew she cared for him far too much to stab his chest. If he had a better weapon, would he do the same? Or spare her?

“It’s a shame you won’t join me… I know you won’t. You and your brother are too alike.” Luke let out a low hum, “I guess we’ve both changed. You used to be hungry for power. I remember you would train until the sunset with your bow and arrow, always wanting to be the best. You’d skip meals, even if you were starving, and I’d have to beg and cry for you to eat. Maybe if my father didn’t give me that quest then we would’ve been fine.”

Luke stared at Y/N for a moment before a grin broke across his face. He stepped over the furious scorpion, pressing a strong kiss to Y/N’s lips. It felt on acid on her skin, itchy and burning and painful.

“A part of me hopes you’ll survive this.” He whispered, “So you can live to see another day. I’ll create the perfect world for you… you’ll see. You’ll love me again even if I have to force the words down your throat.”

Something slipped into her pocket but Y/N’s mind was on the pit scorpion. She flinched as the it climbed up her shoe, snapping its pinchers again.

“Luke.” She breathed as he began to walk away. “Luke. Don’t leave me here! Luke!” She screeched. She would have continued screaming, even if her voice gave up and her vocal cords tore, if it meant she could spend one more day with the warm and loving Luke that she once knew.

The scorpion drove its tail into her leg and she shrieked in pain. She kicked the creature off and desperately searched around for a weapon. She found a small dagger in her pocket, realising that’s what Luke must’ve given to her.

Y/N sliced the scorpion, panting as the world become a confused hazed. She stabbed the creature over and over again until it was nothing but a gruesome corpse of a once terrifying bug.

Y/N limped towards the water but she stumbled, falling to her knees. The toxin was spreading through her blood quickly. She desperately reached out a hand for the creek water, knowing it could possibly heal her. Making it in time to camp would be impossible with her blurring eyesight and inability to walk properly. She’d have to drag her stung leg behind her.

Y/N clawed her way towards the water before her body gave in to the poison. Her limbs grew numb and they refused to move.

Y/N heard the loud noise of bushes rustling and Percy burst into the clearing, Annabeth and a few Apollo kids following close behind.

“Y/N!” He shouted, his voice deafened by the ringing in her ears. She felt dizzy and the world spun in slow-motion as the Apollo healers turned Y/N on her back. Percy kneeled beside her, holding her hand tightly.

“She’s been stung. We don’t have much time. Feed her the nectar.”

Black dots swarmed around in her vision. She could see Annabeth yelling at her but she heard no voices as she let her head loll to the side and she finally succumbed to sleep, not knowing if she would wake up again.

Y/N stirred as the harsh light peeked through the thin curtains of the infirmary. She lightly groaned, shifting around to get more comfortable. Her senses were slowly coming back and she could finally hear again.

“Y/N?” Percy was at her side in an instant. She smiled up at him.

“He really stole the bolt… didn’t he?” She whispered. Percy slowly nodded.

“Yeah…”

Luke’s betrayal would be hard to endure for both the Poseidon siblings and Annabeth. He was beloved by most of the camp and he threw it all away for one pitiful shot at glory.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I know you loved him.” Percy’s grip on her hand tightened.

A small laugh slipped past Y/N’s lips. “I guess I did… but he didn’t love me back. Or maybe he did and I simply wasn’t enough…”

Luke’s love had ever been pure or innocent. There was always a catch to it. He was obsessive with her, constantly ensuring that no other guys talked to Y/N. At least, not the ones that posed a threat.

A part of Y/N would always miss Luke but she could feel relief wash over her body because she no longer had to endure his lashing-out anger and sadness anymore.

She had escaped his cruel clutches and until they met again, most likely on a battlefield with their swords pressed up against each other’s throats, she could live in peace.

However, happiness never lasted long for demigods. “Get some rest.” Percy uttered as he stepped out of the infirmity. It was late at night and the last Apollo kid had just finished her daily rounds at checking the patients.

Y/N quietly sighed as she leaned her head back, her eyelids fluttering closed. The floorboards creaked but she paid it no mind. All the cabins squeaked, even the Aphrodite one.

Y/N felt drowsy under the influence of the medicine she had been given and she fell asleep in no time. Her long awaited rest didn’t last for long, though, when she awoke with a loud gasp.

She was outside. In a shallow river. Her clothes stuck to her body and she spat out a mouthful of water. Y/N shivered, rubbing her arms as a sorry attempt to generate warmth.

From the shore, she heard a familiar laugh. It pierced her soul and Y/N stiffened, her breath trembling. Luke sat not even a meter away, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. He saw her petrified face and it fuelled a sadistic need inside of him.

“I changed my mind, sweetheart.” Those words from him felt like poison to Y/N. “I got permission to keep you around as long as you don’t get into trouble.”

Luke inched forward and Y/N tilted away, trying to scramble rearward. Her back hit a large rock and she quivered, realising she was trapped between a boulder and Luke. Her former lover was approaching her quickly and she didn’t have time to react before he was kneeled in front of her, not caring how his clothes got soaked.

He gently grasped Y/N’s chin, an action that contrasted his aggressive approach back at camp. He tilted her head up so that she was forced to stare at him and sent her another sickeningly sweet smile.

“Did you miss me, sweetheart?” He whispered in her ear. His hands felt gross on her skin but her body refused to move. She knew she wouldn’t get far with her injured leg and weakened body. “Because I missed you terribly.”

His lips captured Y/N’s in a long kiss and for millisecond, she forgot all his wrongdoings. She almost melted before she came back to her senses.

As Luke pulled away, Y/N sank further into the river like it would save her from whatever callous and vicious act Luke was going to perform.

Her whole body shook, and not just from the cold, as she found herself cornered in Luke’s suffocating embrace once again after fighting so long to get out.

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[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

be my daddy tonight

pairing: real dad! chris x reader

cw: father-daughter incest, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, spit, slight degradation, dirty talk, accidental creampie, size kink

a/n: this is a commission for an anonymous commissioner! this is dark/taboo content, so please heed the warnings, and do not read this if incest makes you uncomfortable.

wc: 3.1k

Every time your dad comes home from God knows where, fighting God knows what, he seems more tired than the last. It’s been well-over a year since you last saw him in person. He often goes days without contacting you as well, so the moment he comes in the door feels like the second coming of Jesus Christ. Over the past few weeks you’d considered the possibility that he was KIA, but since he’d – informally – left the BSAA to form his own squad, there was no one to tell you if that was the case or not. His face aged ten years in the past two, but his eyes – gloomy and kind – stayed the same.

He doesn’t even have time to take his jacket off before you run to him, nearly knocking the wind out of him when your body crashes against his. His grip on you is tight – there’s no escaping a father’s love.

“Daddy, I missed you,” you cry into his chest. You rarely ever call him ‘daddy’, not since you were a little kid.

“Missed you too, kiddo.” He slips off his boots and puts his jacket on the coat hanger. “I gotta get some rest now, but we can talk all day tomorrow, do whatever you want.”

Your expression drops. It was false hope, anyway. “Dad?” Your lip quivers, making your words come out blubbered. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

It’s not off-putting, but still out of the ordinary.

“Uh- yeah, I guess- if it’ll make you feel better.” He can’t stand to see you on the verge of tears so he has to let you have your way.

“I love you,” you say in lieu of thanking him.

“Love you, too.”

You forget how big your dad is until you sleep next to him. He manages to take up at least half the bed. If he turns over in his sleep, he’ll send you tumbling onto the floor. Though you both wonder if he’ll be able to sleep at all with his insomnia. For the first time in forever, he truly rests, and when he’s dead asleep next to you, he wraps his arm around your side and pulls you closer, so you’re stuck to him until morning.

It’s the best sleep of his life. Chris would suggest sleeping in the same bed every night if he hadn’t woken up with his dick fully hard.

When he was a teenager, this happened all the time. No rhyme or reason. As a man approaching fifty, he can’t remember the last time he’s had morning wood. He quickly shifts away from you in the hopes that you won’t notice. But you do. You could save him the humiliation and choose not to mention it, but you decide it’ll be more awkward if you don’t acknowledge it.

“It’s no big deal, dad,” you say. “It happens.” Because it does. It happened to your ex-boyfriend almost every night you slept over at his place.

“Yeah,” he mumbles as he stands up, taking his boner out of the situation and into a refreshing shower. He thinks the cool water will make his dick go down but it doesn’t. He can’t will it away, so there’s really only one solution. Jerking off is normal, but jerking off when his daughter is in the other room feels wrong, even if she doesn’t know about it.

He tries not to think about you. He thinks about your mother – who passed away a few years back, so that gets him closer to tears than to an orgasm. He changes course – he thinks about Pamela Anderson in Baywatch, he thinks about that one scene in Basic Instinct where you can see up Sharon Stone’s dress if you’re really good at pausing the TV, he even tries thinking about Jill for a moment just to get his mind off of you.

But it doesn’t work. He woke up with your ass pressed up against his cock, not Pamela Anderson’s, not Sharon Stone’s – yours. You did this to him.

Unbeknownst to him, you’ve been struck by a similar feeling of arousal. Since your last breakup, you haven’t had sex. You’re not big into one-night stands. You prefer sex with someone you trust, someone you love… and then it dawns on you: your perfect match is your dad. You love him, you trust him, and objectively, he’s hot. You’ve tried to rid your mind of that last thought, but it’s a simple truth. Your dad is the human embodiment of sex with his strong, toned arms, his big hands, calloused from years of fighting, his tired eyes that flicker with hope when he sees your face. He loves you, he lives for you, he’d die for you – so, would it really be that wrong for him to fuck you? Honestly, you think, he deserves a thank you for taking care of you for all these years, sacrificing his own safety and sanity for yours. What’s a better present than pussy? Clearly it’s what he wants, right?

Admittedly, you’ve considered what your dad’s dick might look like — you’ve always been a curious person. You assumed it’d be big, and your suspicions were confirmed earlier that morning when you felt it through his sweatpants, but your curiosity is not satisfied - you need to see it, to touch it, to taste it. Your thoughts are interrupted by your dad walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He must’ve forgotten you were in his bed, or assumed you’d left the room.

You both take a guilty glance at each other, unable to resist the urge. The sight of him – sparse water droplets on his skin along with old scars, the v-line of his hips, his surprisingly well-trimmed chest hair, and most of all, the tiny patch of dark hair from his belly button down his abdomen (theoretically, it ends at the base of his dick, but your view is blocked by the towel) - only makes you yearn for him more.

Chris is a mature adult, so he decides to brush off the issue as best he can. He promised to hang out with you like a good father does, so he asks if you’d like to have a movie night. Of course you agree.

He feels so guilty for the events that unfolded that morning that he lets you choose any movie you want. You choose The Notebook since there’s no way your dad is ever going to watch it with you otherwise.

That night, when you sit down in front of the TV, you huddle close together on the couch with a blanket wrapped around you. You’re halfway in your dad’s lap and he has one arm around you while the other holds the popcorn bowl.

When the famous sex scene comes on, you don’t fast forward or talk through it to ease the tension, neither of you awkwardly excuse yourself from the room. You only take your eyes off the screen to look at each other.

Your dad can see right through you. He knows what you want, and he wants it too – he doesn’t even have to tell you that because you can feel his cock hardening against your thigh.

“This movie’s better than I thought it would be,” he admits.

“It’s not over yet. I won’t spoil the ending, but it’s really good.”

“I think we’ve both already seen our favorite part, haven’t we?”

“I do really like that part, yeah,” you say much quieter. “I think it’s… romantic…”

“And?”

“Hot. It’s hot. I’ve always wanted something like that but my ex-boyfriend couldn’t carry me upstairs like that.” You half-laugh, but it’s true – your ex sucked at sex.

“I can carry you.”

“Like that…?”

“Only if you want it to be like that.”

“I, um, I, well-”

Chris grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. “This is about you, sweetheart. If you don’t want to, then we can pretend this conversation never happened, but-”

You cut him off with a kiss and he takes it in stride. He’s Ryan Gosling and you’re Rachel McAdams. You’re not covered in rainwater like they are on screen but you are wet – embarrassingly so. But all of your worries fade into the background when Dad picks you up and carries you upstairs, only breaking the kiss when he lays you down on his bed. Your dad’s lips are pillowy soft against yours despite how passionate the makeout session becomes. If kissing him can make you feel this aroused, you’ll surely be done for the moment he gets his mouth between your thighs.

When your palm meets Chris’ clothed cock you can feel him straining against his pants. You set it free of its confines, slowly pulling his pants down to his ankles, keeping your eyes locked on his. When your hands stroke his meaty thighs, inching their way up, he runs his hand through your hair.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

You nod despite your nerves surrounding your skill level. While you gawk at the sight of your dad’s fat cock, it dawns on you that in a way you’ve already been acquainted with this part of him, considering the fact that he used this to make you. How the hell did mom fit this inside her? you think, but don’t say aloud. You want your dad’s mind to be completely focused on you. It is.

You spit on your palm as gracefully as one can and then start stroking his length languidly.

“You look so pretty like this,” he says, and as a thank you for his compliment, you like a stripe from the base to the tip.

A low moan rumbles from Chris’ chest when you take his cock into your mouth – you end up getting about halfway down before you choke. Chris snaps into dad mode and hoists you up, so you’re in his lap. His arousal is overpowered only by his paternal instinct to care for his favorite daughter.

“Dad, why’d you stop me?” Your eyes are already wet from when you choked but it still looks like you’re close to tears. “Was it not good enough?”

“No, baby girl, you were doing great until you started choking. Daddy can’t have you getting hurt.”

A frown stays plastered on your face until Chris says, “And, I think it’s my turn to make you feel good. Can’t wait to taste you any longer.”

He swiftly flips you onto your back then sinks to his knees at the edge of the bed. When he pulls your legs towards him you gasp. His impatience makes him rough. He’s quick to remove your pajama pants along with your panties but he stops when he sees your slit, glistening with arousal.

He marvels at the sight, running his fingers along your folds. “This all for me?” he asks, though it’s rhetorical.

“Uh-huh. All for you, daddy.” His touch makes your skin tingle from head to toe. You shiver, though the room is heating up.

Chris dives in, shoving his face in between your legs, and running on instinct, your hands fly down to his head, grasping at his hair. You can’t help but pull a little. He growls in response.

You moan so loudly that you’d normally be embarrassed, but you can’t focus on anything except the movements of your dad’s tongue across your clit.

“Taste so good, baby,” he mumbles into your core.

Your legs begin to tremble, thighs threatening to clamp around his head. Chris has to hold them open so he doesn’t suffocate. You don’t have to tell him you’re close – he knows.

“I’ll let you cum once you tell me that this pretty pussy is mine.”

“’S all yours, daddy,” you cry. “I’m yours.”

“Damn right you’re mine,” he says just before you cum, coating his face with your wetness. He doesn’t pull away until you force him to stop, until you’re overstimulated and sobbing.

You pull him in for a kiss, but first you say, “You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

“Yeah? Your boyfriend couldn’t make you cum like that?”

“No, he never did.”

“Needed your dad to help you this whole time, huh?”

“Yeah, I need you inside me, daddy,” you say. Chris already has the same idea. His fist is around his thick cock, though he doesn’t need help getting hard. In fact, you watch a bead of precum drip from his tip. He pumps himself a few times before he prods at your entrance, attempting to fuck you. He watches as your face scrunches up in discomfort.

He pulls back. “Thought you said you wanted me, sweet girl?”

“I do, I do,” you insist.

“Just too tight for me, then, huh? Got the tightest little pussy I’ve ever seen. Gotta get you ready first.” Without warning, he shoves two fingers inside you, curling them upward to meet your g-spot. He strokes that spongy spot while he stretches you out and you begin to clench around his fingers.

“Ah-ah,” he says, pulling them out – much to your dismay. “You’re not gonna cum yet. Not until I’m inside you.”

You grip the sheets while he fills you in one thrust – you’re still tight, but your wetness makes the job easier. The stretch still stings at first, but neither of you can stand to wait any longer. He doesn’t give you a minute to adjust – he grips your legs and brings them to his chest so he can fuck you as deep as possible.

You’re practically screaming already, feeling a familiar sensation in your abdomen. “Gonna cum already? Never seen such a sensitive girl.”

You nod frantically.

“Cum whenever you want, baby, but daddy’s not gonna stop until he decides you’re done.”

You couldn’t stop your release if you wanted to. You soak his abdomen in bursts while he continues to pound in and out of you.

He pushes your thighs to your chest and it makes you scream. Continuing at a merciless pace, he taunts you, “Screaming so loud the neighbors can probably hear you, baby. What would they think if they knew you were moaning like that ‘cause your dad is fucking you so good?”

He feels your pussy ripple around him and he knows the answer. “Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You nod dumbly. You can’t bring yourself to care about what your neighbors would think while you’re getting the best dick of your life.

“What a dirty girl,” he tuts at you. “Didn’t think I raised a slut.”

“’M not a slut,” you protest.

“Really?” When you nod, he grabs your chin and spits in your mouth. Your pussy clenches when you swallow. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

You don’t protest being called a slut anymore because you can’t. Your obscene moans are the only thing that leave your mouth – sometimes the word ‘daddy’ comes with them.

“I’ve fucked my little girl stupid already,” he says. “Can’t even keep yourself quiet. Guess I’ve gotta help you.”

Chris can’t stop himself – he’s addicted to the feeling of your cunt gripping him. So, to shut you up, he changes position. When he momentarily pulls out so that he can flip you onto your stomach, you whine, feeling empty and needy.

“Need daddy to fill you, huh? Couldn’t take my cock earlier and now you cry when I take it out for a second.”

It’s pathetic how much you like it, but he can’t see your reddening cheeks when your face is pressed into the mattress like this. You scream into the pillow, but the sounds of his balls hitting your clit with every thrust and his hand smacking your ass so hard it leaves a mark, is just as likely to get you caught. With the way his cock is stretching you out, you’ll surely be sore tomorrow, but the thought barely crosses your mind because it’s so deep inside you that the head is brushing up against your cervix.

Your dad is more talkative during sex than he usually is outside of the bedroom. It’s like a new man has taken over his body, a man who’s being held captive by your cunt.

“You feel so good. Shoulda known you’d fit so perfectly around my cock since I’m the one who made you.” His crude words have you soaking his already wet bed sheets. He bites his knuckles to muffle his own groans, but his other hand remains on your hip, gripping the flesh hard enough to leave marks. 

Knowing that he’s close to cumming, he lifts you up so that your back is pressed to his chest while he’s still on his knees behind you. He wraps his bicep around your neck in an effort to make sure you stay quiet. You feel light-headed when he constricts your airways, but you trust him to keep you safe.

Maybe you seem panicked – maybe you are, maybe your dad knows you better than you know yourself – your legs are surely trembling but that could be your rapidly approaching orgasm. Regardless, your dad worries, so he reassures you, “Hey, pretty girl.” His breath tickles the shell of your ear. “Daddy’s got you, not gonna let you get hurt.”

Still, he fucks you so hard you think you might pass out. You’re going limp in his arms, basically a rag doll, but like Chris said, he chooses when you stop – he’s going to make sure he gets to cum.

When your release washes over you for the third time that night it feels like a surge of electricity in your abdomen sending the current though your body rather than a smooth wave of pleasure. Your orgasm drags Chris headlong into his own, and he’s barely able to pull out fast enough to cum on you, rather than in you.

Once the realization hits him in the aftermath - while you’re curled up on his chest - he asks, “Are you on the pill… or anything?”

“Mhm, why?” You mumble.

He dips a finger into you and waves it in front of your face, showing you that he overestimated his ability to pull out.

“Did you cum inside me?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“That’s what makes it hotter.”

“So, if I did that next time, you’d like it?”

“I’d love it… wait- we forgot to finish the movie!”

“Do we have to?”

“C’mon I promise you’ll like the ending. It’s super romantic.”

“Is this not romantic enough for you?”

“It’ll be more romantic if you snuggle up on the couch with me.”

“Fine, but only ‘cause I love you.”

"I love you too, dad."                                                                                                                   

[maidragoste]

Two Rhaenys

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader (Daughter of Rhaenyra) x Aegon II Targaryen

part 7

Masterlist Serie

Hi guys, I hope you are well, I apologize again for the delay in updating. I hope the wait was worth it for you and you like the new chapter. As always, thank you very much for the comments, reblogs and likes, they always cheer me up, thanks for your support 🥰🥰💕💕

I remind you that my inbox is open in case you have any questions or want to share a headcanon of the series with me. I love reading them 🤭🤭💕💕

Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter 💖💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

You couldn't sleep. This time it had nothing to do with nightmares about your family's ghosts trying to kill you while calling you a traitor. It also had nothing to do with Cregan Stark's letter agreeing to come to King's Landing in peace. You still weren't sure that the war won't continue but at least you could rest assured that the lord of the North agreed to have a talk with you. You were hoping that you could convince him to bend the knee and that he would end this martyrdom once and for all.

The people who kept you awake were your husbands. Ever since Aegon and Aemond had returned to King's Landing you could feel the pressure from court and council. They knew that you had not yet shared a bed with the king. After how your wedding ended it was normal that you hadn't slept with Aegon but now you had no excuse, you were already recovered from the poisoning and he had returned from Harrenhal, not doing your duty. You had to sleep with Aegon and give him a baby. If possible you knew you had to be pregnant before Lord Stark came to town.

You weren't afraid of having sex with Aegon. You knew him and you knew he would do anything to spare you pain. Besides, it's not like you're a virgin. The problem was actually that you were afraid to enjoy it. Aemond would be in the room. At first, you were okay with it but now you didn't like the idea. What if you enjoyed being with Aegon and Aemond got mad at you? Would it count as cheating even though Aegon was also your husband? Would it ruin your marriage to Aemond? Since you knew the truth about Alys Rivers things had improved but sometimes you can feel a kind of tension between the two of you whenever Aemond finds you and the twins with Aegon in the nursery or walking through the gardens.

You already feel guilty for making out with Aegon in front of Aemond. Even sometimes just by holding his hand, how could you see Aemond's face after having sex with his brother in front of him? You'd like to have a conversation with Aegon the Conqueror to find out how the hell he handled having two spouses. Though you didn't think it would be much help either considering everyone knew how he spent one night with Visenya while he spent ten with Rhaenys. You didn't think it was a deal that would work with the three of you.

“What are you thinking about?” Aemond asked, grabbing your attention.

"I thought you were sleeping" you replied turning around to look at him.

"I was but your sighs are so loud they woke me up"

"Fuck you. At least I don't snore"

"I don't snore" your husband denied "Tell me what is worrying you," he asked as he caressed your waist. I knew that if he continued with the "discussion" about whether or not he snored then you would end up distracting him and not telling him why he kept you awake.

You hesitated before answering. You didn't want Aemond to be mad at you but sooner or later the two of you would have to talk about this. There was no point in delaying this conversation, maybe it would even save you some future headaches. Maybe it could even make you feel better.

"I was thinking of you and Aegon" you admitted causing the prince to raise an eyebrow.

"Are you finally going to tell me that you have feelings for my brother?" He said with obvious jealousy, remembering the last few days.

Now at council meetings you always sat next to Aegon, it makes sense because you're the queen but what doesn't make sense is the two of you spend the whole damn meeting holding hands. It also doesn't make sense that you're smiling at Aegon every time he says something sensible in meetings. It's his damn job as king, it's not like he's doing anything extraordinary.

Another thing that bothered Aemond was that now whenever he finished his training and went looking for you and the twins, he found them with Aegon and Jaehaera. Every time he saw you all together his stomach ached from the discomfort and jealousy he felt seeing that you seemed like a perfect family. As if he was always meant to be this way as if he and Helaena didn't exist. He hated to see how natural Aegon looked with his children. He hated the softness in your eyes every time you looked at his brother with the children. He hated when Baelon laughed at Aegon's silly faces. He hated when Baelon burst into tears when he separated him from Aegon. He hated to see Aemon so comfortable in Aegon's arms. They are his family, not Aegon's.

"What?" you said totally surprised.

"I'm not stupid. I see how you look at Aegon. Before the war, you didn't look at him like that." Aemond could see the surprise in your eyes as if you hadn't even realized it yourself. "My mother told me how close you two became in the war."

When you gave birth Aegon was by your side, it was he who held your hand and gave you strength when you thought of giving up. Aegon was the one who helped you calm the cries of the twins at night. Aegon was the one who listened to you and I don't judge you, but he made sure that you understood that you weren't a bad mother when you confessed to him that even though you loved your children, sometimes you wished they hadn't been born because you wanted to go back to your brothers. Aegon was the one who saw you at your worst when Jacaerys died. He was the one who ordered that the twins not be taken away from you when Alicent and Otto claimed that you were unstable and could hurt them after you tried to kill yourself, unable to bear the pain and guilt of Jace's death.

Alice was not lying. You and Aegon were always close, perhaps drifting apart for a time in your teens when Aegon's drinking problem worsened, but became closer in the war. The two supported each other. You couldn't hate him, it didn't matter that he had usurped your mother's throne, it was impossible to hate him when he saw the pain that the death of little Jaehaerys brought him. You saw him alone and you couldn't stand it, you accompanied him in his duel and you treated him as always, you offered him some humanity while the rest of the world only seemed to care that he was the king who had to win a war.

And when Aemond left, for the first time you felt alone in your own home, you were surrounded by enemies. You weren't locked in the black cells but it was obvious that you were a prisoner, there were always guards outside your door and you couldn't go anywhere without them. Something told you that if you weren't pregnant with Aemond's child then Otto Hightower would have had you killed. They let you live but it was clear that no one wanted the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen.

Then Aegon returned the favor, he accompanied you in your solitude. Every time he had a free space from royal duties he would come to see you. On sleepless nights you two always had each other's company. You and Aegon knew that when one of you couldn't sleep you could always knock on the other's door and there would be no problem. At dawn they submerged remembering their childhood and the good times before the war. Sometimes Jaehaera was even with you—since the death of her twin, it was hard for her to sleep and when she did, it wasn't for many hours at a time—on those nights you and Aegon tried to make her sleep by making up stories. It was funny because Aegon could come up with things that didn't make the slightest bit of sense.

When Daemon and your mother took over King's Landing, you were so scared for Aegon. You felt your breath come back when you heard that he had managed to escape before they could capture him. You prayed every day for his safety and well-being. There wasn't a day you didn't think of him. But that doesn't mean you'll love him romantically right? Anyone would be worried about a family member.

Aegon was your greatest support during the dark times. He was the only one who could bring you some joy together with your children. Your heart always warmed when you saw him with Jaehaera, Maelor, Baelon, and Aemon. He didn't have to take care of the twins but he was always ready to ease your load and help you with your babies.

It was normal for your love for your uncle to deepen after seeing him soothe your children's cries, sing to them and talk to them despite never getting a response from the babies, and watching him play with Maelor and them. How could you hate him when he treated your kids like his? How could you hate him when he always looked out for you and was ready to come to your defense? When he was the only person who comforted you and understood your pain?

But you weren't in love, were you? Did you ever think about what it might have been like if you had married him? Yes, but you blamed the wine. You weren't thinking straight. You only love Aemond. Do you love Aegon? Yes, but not in a romantic way.

Was there a moment when you got more excited about meeting Aegon again than Aemond? Yes, but that was when you thought your husband had cheated on you and before Aegon murdered your mother. When he returned to King's Landing, a part of you wanted to hug him and be by his side, you wanted to return to his safety and the early morning together. But you took it upon yourself to bury deep down any kind of love you felt for him. Aegon murdered your mother, traumatized your little brother, and imprisoned your cousin. You couldn't love him. So you ignored Aegon and focused on comforting your brother and trying to fix your marriage.

You didn't marry Aegon because you were in love, you only married to keep the peace and prevent the war from continuing. You don't have any romantic feelings for Aegon…So why do you feel guilty every time you kiss him? Why do you always crave his touch as much as he craves yours?

"I love Aegon," you said more to yourself than to Aemond. You took another moment of silence to assimilate your discovery "I'm sorry" you apologized feeling like a hypocrite. You got angry with him when you thought he had been unfaithful and during all that time you had fallen in love with another man. "I love you both" you assured him instantly as you moved closer to him. You felt relieved to see that he didn't move away from you "To be honest I didn't realize it until you said it"

"I regret telling you" he growled and you bit your lip thinking what to say next to leave him alone.

"This doesn't mean that things will change between us." Aemond looked at you, raising an eyebrow as if he didn't believe you. "I mean, it doesn't have to be a bad change. My feelings for you remain the same."

"So you won't leave me out?"

The question took you by surprise "Of course not." You instantly replied, "You are my husband and I love you." You kissed him tenderly, hoping to show him at least a part of how much you loved him.” I would never leave you aside. I could hardly bear to be without you when you went to Harrenhal” you said causing a small smile to appear on the prince's lips.

"I don't like the idea of sharing you, much less with Aegon," he admitted, making you wince. "But I know I have no other choice. I don't want you to be unhappy. So I'm willing to accept some sort of deal. Just promise me that I won't be your Visenya."

“There is no Visenya in this. I only have two Rhaenys" You kissed him again "Thank you for trying to understand. I know it's not easy” You caressed his cheek.

“You know that I will always make an effort for you”

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[writeyouin]

Could I request a scenario? During the mutiny of the Lost Light, liaison reader somehow missed the whole thing and is stuck on the Lost Light with no leadership and some bots who are not too keen on them being there. They hide out in the vents and sort of just stay there like “Day 23 in the vents. They haven’t found me yet but when they do they’ll be surprised.” Getaway swears he hears something but bots who are friends with the liaison swear they can’t hear anything.

A/N – Okay, so I actually wrote a full fic for this last year and I was typing it up and the whole thing got deleted and then I couldn’t find the notebook I wrote it in and ever since then I’ve just despised that I lost it and never attempted to re-write it. Anyway, now I’m going to do it as bullet points.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Maybe it’s just because you were so small that you escaped into the vents unnoticed, or maybe Getaway was planning on keeping you as a hostage, or some kind of fucked up pet. That seemed like something he would do.

Either way, when the chaos began, you went unfound, and you decided to keep it that way, stubbornly hiding inside the ventilation system. You knew them a bit too well because of regular games with Skids where you hunted one another, trying to beat the timer.

You had tried to get to Rodimus, Megatron, Ratchet, and any number of the bots you knew. But there was no reaching them in time.

Now, you were stuck on the Lost Light, unable to return to your room, except for the rare occasions you needed to reach the food replicator. You were damned lucky there were a select number of tiny storage compartments only you could get into which had been turned into toilets for you.

Frankly, you wished more of them were showers, but sometimes it helped to be sweaty and gross as you mentally lived the John McClane lifestyle, though frankly, you could get through the vents upright, with no need to crawl.

Initially, Getaway must have suspected that you might still be on the ship because he put your room under guard and left food traps out for you.

Honestly, how stupid did he think you were?

You were smarter than he knew, and on top of it, you were pissed.

Yet, when it became clear you couldn’t rescue the bots he and his crew had mutinied against, you decided to use your intellect to psychologically destroy him… or at least fuck with him as best you could.

Having fallen asleep in the vents, you had lost track of him. This happened every couple of days or so since you were more determined to watch Getaway than you were to rest.

Honestly, you didn’t know whether you were more or less healthy than before. You were losing weight from tiredness, despite having enough food and water in your pack from the replicator. But you had more stamina and endurance than before from all the stalking you did.

“Target acquired,” You said under your breath as you found Getaway in his hab-suite. He was in stasis.

Perfect.

You got in position, standing directly above his chassis.

“Okay,” You whispered, kneeling and rooting through your backpack. “Ready to deploy, Agent RJ?”

Agent RJ was one of the Roombas you had collected from the vents. They had a more rounded top than Earth Roombas, and kind of reminded you of a horseshoe crab with the rounded top.

This one was Agent RJ, full alias: Rodimus Junior.

You had recruited it, painted it with Rodimus’ colours, and now you were going to drop it on your enemy while he slept.

Lifting the vent grate slightly, you threw Agent RJ as hard as you could, then scurried back where you wouldn’t be seen.

Getaway woke with a start then yelped an undignified scream at the sight of the message on top of RJ.

I’m coming for you, you ship-stealing fragger!

The best part was that it was written in Cybertronian so he wouldn’t ever think of suspecting you. You had learned to write it from Cyclonus a long time ago, though it was impossible for you to speak it.

Take that fucker.

Getaway ran to the other side of the room, starting the alarm. You smiled in satisfaction. It was great whenever he did that. The remaining crew were getting really sick of his paranoid antics. Especially when Getaway claimed he kept hearing someone, but that was also just you pretending to be the voices of those he’d thrown off the ship, though you only did it when he was alone.

Once, Roller had heard you and found you shortly thereafter, but he had let you go and told you to stay hidden.

You asked him why he was helping you, and he’d informed you there were a few bots with regrets about the mutiny.

You visited him when you could, but it was always a risk to leave the protection of your high haven. Still, you felt safe knowing there was at least one bot on the ship who would look out for you, probably more if the rumours about others regretting their actions were to be believed.

You waited for Getaway to get some distance from you before going after him, leaving just enough of a gap so as not to be noticed while you spoke into a… Well, you didn’t know what it was, but for the sake of your sanity, the little machine was a voice recorder, even if it couldn’t technically do that.

“Day 32 in the vents. Mission success. Note: Enlist more Roombas into the rebellion.”

It took a little while to run across another of the little cleaners whilst following snatches of Getaway’s conversation, seeing him every couple of minutes through the grates you passed over.

You snatched up the Roomba, hugging it to your chest.

Then, very seriously, you addressed it, “Welcome to the war effort, Megatron Junior. Sometime in the next 30 days, you will be deployed to the enemy camp when he sleeps. You have until then to train.”

When Getaway finally settled in a seat, grumbling at his subordinates, you took some time to start painting Agent MJ. He needed to look good for his Quest against that double-crossing son of a bitch.

[clemblog]

Caine’s Lesson - Part 2

•••

Pomni screwed her eyes shut as she found herself plummeting into the sticky chocolate lake. Luckily for her, the creature who resided in such was too busy munching on Candy Kingdom citizens to have noticed her appearance.

She groaned, tired and annoyed, as she dragged herself to the shoreline. Of course her punishment had to be making her way back to the circus. Alone. At least, that’s what it looked to be! A long lonely work back to the circus

So, she got to walking. Reluctantly. If she could, she’d have just laid down and waited for the monster of the lake to eat her. Unfortunately, he wasn’t interested in her flesh. She probably wouldn’t die either. Just end up alive in some kind of stomach or digestive system like Zooble did with the gloink Queen. Caine would have to come save her and pull her back to the circus.

Which was the last thing she wanted right now.

So, she walked.

She walked until the distant sun began to set. She was surprised there was a sun at all in this kinda place, surely every thing would get a lot more sticky with the thing constantly blazing down. She’d have to ask Caine the logistics of that, once she got back to the circus.

…If, she got back to the circus.

Maybe Caine would get busy with everyone else and forget she was even here in the first place?!

That would be awful… but not unexpected. She had kinda snapped at him, a lot. Even if he had deserved it, it wasn’t exactly nice. Or nice.

He controlled her current plain of existence for [——] sake. It had happened again. Pomni had let her emotions get the better of her.

First with Ragatha…

Then… Gummigoo….

And now herself..

Her hands started to flap a little as she realised how much she’d [——-] up.

She wouldn’t blame Caine if he left her here.

She wasn’t cut out for his world anyway…

She let herself sit back against a boulder she’d stopped by. She wanted to sleep. To forget again for just a moment. But she had to be smart. Only Caine knew what kind of creatures must have been waiting for her now that night had fallen.

So, Pomni curled up in a little ball and crammed herself under the nearby boulder. It had a perfect Pomni sized space for her to do so.

The feel of the boulder was grounding, like the feeling of a big strong hug from someone as she slept.

It was exactly what she wanted right now.

So sleep was easy.

Pomni woke up to the sound of gummy birds pecking away at gummy worms. She groaned, rubbing at her face tiredly. Her sleep was fine, but the ground was still rough to sleep on. Honestly, it was lucky her jester outfit was so comfy and accustomed to fit her. Obviously, it made sense living in an AI simulation based world. But she’d never miss the grating feeling of clothing in the real world.

She got up with a stretch and started walking again. She didn’t need to eat or drink, so it was all she could do. Maybe she’d run into some of the citizen NPC’s or some other kind of gummy bandits!

…She missed her gummy bandit.

He’d made her feel less alone. Less crazy. More human. More okay.

Knowing Caine’s current mood, he probably didn’t exist in this world anymore.

He’d listened to her more than anyone else did. Instead of just yelling explanation after explanation or infantilising her. He’d listened and given his own thoughts, treated her like… a person instead of an inconvenience or a punching bag.

He was her… best friend, even if just only for a few moments.

Maybe she could find his buddies?

She hadn’t gotten their names, but they seemed nice enough!

She wouldn’t have to be alone that way either-

“Alright Pomni, you’ve got this. This is your plan now: find Gummigoo’s friends and hopefully… they’ll let you stay with them until Caine decides to bring you back.”

And so, she got back to walking again. It was the only thing she could do now, so it was peaceful and grounding. She had a plan. She could do this.

•

“You know, you shouldn’t let him treat you like that.” Hummed Zooble.

Gangle looked up from her notebook.

“I-I know… He’s just intimidating… a-and cruel, so I get scared.” She eeked out.

Zooble nodded at this, limping over to sit beside her. She’d crammed herself into a little hidey hole to escape Jax’s torment.

“You’re so brave Zooble.. I-I don’t know how you can talk to Jax normally..”

“He respects me.”

“…how?”

“Because I don’t give him what he wants. Acknowledgement.”

“O-Oh.”

“Besides, I think your drawings are pretty cool.”

“R-Really?”

“Mhm. You’re doing better than Rags over there. I don’t think she’s shut up since Pomni disappeared.”

“Mm… I- think she’s worried.”

“Obviously, anyways, enough about Ragatha. Back to your drawings.”

Zooble watched as Gangle gave a shy smile at this, happily starting to ramble about her art.

Being with Zooble felt safe.

Being with Gangle felt nice.

Sometimes nice things came about from bad situations.

Part 3

[alabamasweettea]

wake up call

( no bc Barry looks so sweet in this gif I can't )

Fandom: Eternals

Pairing: Druig x mutant!reader (siphon like rogue but w/o the life force bit)

Warnings: none really

When you joined forces with the eternals - a mere mutant, but powerful nonetheless - you never expected to become close with them. Sersei in particular took a liking to you, promising to style your hair and do your makeup sometimes. The days and nights were fun, to say the least. You hung out, introduced Ikaris to the concept of smiling, et cetera.

You loved to watch them work, often crouching and sucking some of Sprite's power to hide yourself in the shadows when you weren't needed, simply watching as the troupe fought yet another stray deviant.

Ikaris was always amazing to see; twin bolts of something hotter than hot zapping straight from his eyes. It was exhilarating, to be frank. Sersei was gorgeous, as usual; her long, fluid movements perfectly calculated for each strike. The rest were not super outstanding, you supposed, though one of them stumped you.

Druig. A seemingly moody teenager type, he tended to stick to the shadows. What kind of a name was that anyway? In any case you barely knew what he could do because he never used his powers.

In fact, you barely knew anything about him, other than he liked to call you "witch" for no reason at all. It wasn't a really affectionate or even pleasing nickname, you often thought.

It was always, "Morning, witch," when he came into the kitchen only half dressed for a piece of toast; or "Need help, witch?" when you couldn't reach something on a top cupboard. Still topless, he made it a habit to press against your back intentionally as he got it for you.

Stupid eternal, you'd think as you scampered back to your room. What's wrong with getting it like a normal person?

To be fair, you deliberately chose cups on the very top shelf... maybe he felt the same weird thing in his stomach as you did when his body molded against yours. You supposed you'd never know.

You did suppose, but Ajak sent you to wake Druig up one Saturday morning, and you realized he usually woke up like clockwork at around 6, but it was 7:15 and he hadn't even gotten out of bed.

"Druig?" you asked, tapping on the door of his room. The old hinges creaked; the door was open. You walked inside with haste before stopping in your tracks.

Wh- Woah.

The man was shaped like a Greek god, all spread-eagled on his bed. Limbs hung over the side as he slumbered peacefully half on his side, half on his stomach.

Wow. Just wow.

His back was completely exposed and the sheets were pulled back, showing the curve of his hips and just a little lower. You were relieved to find he at least slept in underwear. They came down low, though, much to one part of you's delight.

He stirred, long dark eyelashes fluttering.

"Druig?" You tried again, hoping that now he was lucid enough to answer.

Nothing but a sleepy "hmm~", but it was progress.

"Druig? Love, wake up." Okay. The 'love' was completely unnecessary, but you felt proud of yourself for handling his state of undress so well. So far. You could feel some sense of propriety unraveling within you as you spent more and more time with these eternals.

You didn't want to touch him- but you did, and you were going to admit it to yourself. The wide span of his back practically called your name, and you gave in finally.

His skin was smooth, dotted all over with little freckles. You could feel the bunching of muscles as they flexed under your palm.

TWO ENDINGS FOR THIS ONE (bc i have no life apparently)

ENDING 1:

Something switched on in your mind. You couldn't move- no, you didn't want to. Everything in you suddenly wanted to stay sitting on the bed, even lie down next to him.

Then you noticed his eyes fluttering open, more golden than the sun.

Ah.

"It's unfair to use powers," You tried to remark, but your mouth wouldn't respond. You couldn't pull your hand away.

"Sorry, witch. Force of habit." He chuckled, but didn't turn it off.

This man's gonna be the death of me.

"I can hear you, you know." His eyes were of the brightest gold. They seemed to glow even brighter than before as he began to sift through your thoughts. Finally, he sat up, sleepily stretching. You had to tamp your mouth shut to keep from drooling.

"What are you doing here, witch?" It was said so affectionately that you nearly forgot what you were here for.

"I- Ajak sent me to wake you." You shivered under the weight of his golden gaze, mind struggling against his hold as he combed through it. No- don't let him find-

Shit.

He chuckled, moving his cheek to press against yours. A soft sigh left him as the movement had its desired effect on you: your brain went blank for a while as his own dirty thoughts wormed their way into your mind. It felt odd, but you accepted him all the same, unable to do much differently under his control.

"Oh, you," he finally said when he found what he was looking for, whispering against the shell of your ear, "You naughty, naughty witch."

ENDING 2:

The sleeping eternal stirred again, starting to come out of it. You panicked and tried to return to a respectable distance, and would have if his hand on your wrist hadn't stopped you. His fingers curled around your own hand, dragging it back to his skin.

Your fingertips settled on a spot just below his heart, watching Druig intently as his eyes fluttered open. He normally had the softest, sweetest blue eyes you'd ever seen; though right now they glowed a hungry gold in the dark room.

"Hullo," he said softly, dragging a fingertip down your burning cheek, "What are you doing here, witch? Come to kill me in my sleep?" You shook your head violently, no words forming on your tongue.

"Well, least you can do is come 'ere." And he pulled you into him.

"But Ajak-"

"Can wait. 'M sleeping."

~

( which ending do you like better? )

[blogurlnotfound]

Drumming - Doctor Who x Reader

hiii this is my first fic in about 4 years probably :) this is obviously a new account, so yeah that's why there's nothing else here. um anyways, i definitely got incredibly carried away with this, did not have an idea going into it (still think it ended up great), 12 is probably out of character, and i somehow wrote it in under 3 hours??

anyway, I hope it's enjoyable! and please let me know your thoughts :)

12th Doctor x Reader

(really student/professor but can be romantic or platonic, whatever vibes you catch.)

Word Count: 2,600+

Summary: You have been hearing a drumming in your head. One, two, three, four. It's been affecting your mental state, and you haven't been to class in a while. Maybe your professor, The Doctor, is able to help figure this out?

Warnings: mentions of depression and suicidal thoughts. any gender reader, but makeup mentioned.

A drumming had been haunting you for months as you slept.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

It would sound non-stop until you couldn't bear it any longer, and woke up. Every time you would wake up the same: in a cold sweat, panting, with tear streaks running down your face.

Each day the drumming's effect on you grew. It was affecting your mental state immensely. You felt a deep pain and sadness hanging over you like a cloud most days. You wouldn't be able to get out of bed, much less go to classes. You weren't hungry often, and couldn't eat when you were. You avoided your friends and your schoolwork, occasionally texting your parents to keep them from worrying.

You weren't sure if your professors noticed your absences. They hadn't reached out to you in any way. It's not like they'd notice you in the sea of students. They must see hundreds a day anyways.

It's not like anybody would notice you anyway. At least that's what the drumming would whisper to you.

One, two, three, four.

You keep to yourself. Don't have any close friends in your classes, and not many close friends at school in general. Nobody really knew who you were. Your favorite color. Childhood pets. How long it takes you to sleep. How often you're awoken by the drumming.

One, two, three, four.

Nobody would notice if you're gone.

One, two, three, four.

They don't even notice when you're there.

One, two, three, four.

-+-

You wake up. In a cold sweat. Panting. You reach both your hands to your face and rub your palms on your cheeks. Tears were cleared from your face and now sat on your hands. You sit up and release a heavy sigh. It's like the sigh has been waiting to escape all night. Like your body was relieved to be released from the nightmare drumming.

You decide to get out of bed, an easier decision than previous day's had been. You stretch your limbs and yawn. You walk to the bathroom and face your reflection. Today was going to be okay.

Or will it be.

One, two, three, four.

"It will be. Today will be okay." You affirmed to yourself in the mirror. You let out another sigh, smiled at yourself softly, and began your morning routine.

You do your make-up while watching a video. You found that taking the time to do your make-up gave you time to relax, breathe, and be yourself. You felt better about your days when you take this extra time to yourself in the morning. So, whenever you manage to get out of bed, you try to manage doing make-up too.

The video you watched was just of some guy unnecessarily analyzing a TV show you liked. He went into extreme detail about small details from the show and created theories about why certain things happened and what might happen next. You enjoyed his content. He reminded you of one of your professors.

He was a very kind old man who you can tell cares deeply about everything he talks about. He has a Scottish accent that somehow grows stronger with excitement. He's enthusiastic and rambles, and never really has a set course of taking points. He just lets his mind and his heart lead him. Saying whatever he finds most awestrucking and veering off topic drastically. In fact, you weren't really sure what the class was meant to be about.

The course description when signing up simply said, "Discussion-based class, humanities topics." The syllabus was no extra help, practically said the same thing with all the extra school required information listed. But it fulfilled your humanities credit, and the first day was interesting enough, so you stayed in the class.

Thinking about the professor, The Doctor, just The Doctor, made you want to go to his class. You checked the time on your phone. It did start in a little over two hours. You finished getting ready and then waited.

You waited maybe fifteen minutes before getting bored. You quickly put your bag together and walked out your door, then your building, into the outside would. It had been at least thirty-two hours since you were last outside. The air felt cool against your skin, reviving your senses and making you softly smile to yourself. You could hear the wind rustle the branches of nearby trees that swayed. Somehow, these trees looked the same as ever, and more beautiful than ever.

You turn around in a full circle and take in the Earth around you. She really is beautiful. You don't sit with her enough.

With new energy in your body, the dark cloud caused by the drumming smaller than ever, you walk around your campus mindlessly. Every step you take grounds you to the Earth, reminding you that the drumming can't be real.

One, two, three, four.

It isn't real.

-+-

You take a seat in the auditorium where The Doctor's class is held. You gently place your bag on the floor next to you and wait as the seats pile up. Five minutes later the room is almost full, and the tall man with short grey hair walks in, greeting the class with a Scottish, "Hello!" as he places his bag down and immediately starts writing on the chalkboard.

"Music." is written on the board. He swiftly turns around on his heel. He stops and makes direct eye contact with you. He stares for a moment, a twinkle in his eye. He diverts his attention from you and begins speaking,

"So," he clasps his hands, "who wants to tell me the importance of music to humanity?"

Hands shoot up all around you. You had been missing a fun class.

-+-

The class ends and you have a beaming smile on your face. You hadn't realized truly how fun and entrancing The Doctor was. Every student was hooked on his every word, waiting for what insane piece of information would come flying out of his mouth next. Every student including you.

The class was packing their bags and leaving around you. You heard groups starting to chat. Friends laughing loudly.

You don't have friends like that here. Your smile falls.

One, two, three, four.

A tap on the wooden desk in front of you wakes you from your thoughts, a Scottish voice accompanying it, "Are you okay, y/n? I noticed you haven't been to class in a while."

You looked up at The Doctor, no doubt admiration for him and sadness from your thoughts filling your eyes. He could read your eyes. He could read the pain and the sadness. He's felt it before.

"You noticed?" You stifled out.

"Of course I noticed." His face softened, "All of my students are important to me."

"But there's so many of us?"

"So?"

You didn't have a response to that. You suppose he was right. You just looked down at your bag, grabbed it, and started to stand up.

"Would you like to come into my office?"

You looked at him, confused and shocked.

"Just for lunch and to discuss whatever is going on. If you'd like." You look at him, still confused. Your head cocks slightly to one side, and your mouth begins to open, but The Doctor beats you to it, "I lost a student not too long ago. Her name was Bill. Bill Potts. I miss her a lot, you see, she was more than just my student. She was also my friend. She made me better. I can see her in you, and I would hate to... " He pauses, "I'm just worried about how many classes you've missed. You may not be able to pass my course."

You're really confused now. The gears are turning in your head, processing his confession of loss turned into you not passing the class. The Doctor can see the gears turning on your face, in the way your eyebrows scrunch intensely and your pupils move back and forth. You close your eyes, relax your face, and look at him with a smile.

"I would like to go to your office, yeah. Thank you." Your eyes are sincere, and when you meet his, so are they.

You follow him a short ways through campus to his office. His steps and your steps opposite. Like the drumming.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

You try to ignore it. You try really hard but can't. You stop walking, and the drumming stops. You sigh in relief, The Doctor looks back at you with concern.

"Sorry," you say, catching up to him with a smile, "I thought I saw something."

"Like what?" He asks, curiosity filling his face.

"Oh, nothing." You weren't expecting him to ask. You didn't know what to say.

He hums in response, picking up pace until you're at his office. It's a huge room with a desk in the middle, you take a seat on one side of it while The Doctor sits opposite. He has many picture frames on his desk, and a mysterious blue police box in the corner you can't take your eyes off.

One, two, three, four.

"What's that?" you ask, pointing at the box before you can help yourself.

"A police box. It's from London in the 60's. I'm a bit of a collector of sorts."

He had this lie down pat. But you could tell he wasn't being truthful, you didn't know how, but you knew. You didn't press on about the box. You just nodded and smiled, "That's cool."

He nodded too. "Let's talk about why you've been missing class. Is everything okay back home? Anything I can do to help?"

One, two, three, four.

Something compelled you to be honest with him. Again, you didn't know what. He felt familiar. Of course you've known him the whole semester, but it felt more than that. You feel safe. You feel seen. You feel known. You knew when he lied to you just a second ago, but why?

One, two, three, four.

"Can I be honest?" you make eye contact with him, "Like, you won't lock me up in the looney bin for being crazy?" He's about to say something but you interrupt him, "And won't get me kicked out of the school or, or, I don't know, send me off to get government testing?"

He's confused now. But curious too. You can tell he's interested in what you're saying, he wants to know more. It doesn't feel like he's going to judge you. "Yes, you can be honest. You can trust me."

"Promise?" You hold out your pinky. Sure it's silly, but silly makes it more meaningful, more powerful, somehow.

He chuckles and interlocks your pinkies, "Promise."

"Okay." You stop to think.

One, two, three, four.

"So I have this noise in my head."

One, two, three, four.

"It's like drumming. One, two, three, four."

One, two, three, four.

The Doctor stiffens. "And it won't stop, Doctor." you continue. "And it's like it's affecting my thoughts. They're all negative and I'm depressed and it hurts. It really hurts, Doctor." Tears are streaming down your face. You weren't even aware talking about this would make you cry. And you didn't know why you told The Doctor about it.

After a moment of thinking, The Doctor moves from his chair and towards you. His movements are stiff. As if he's nervous. He knows something you don't. He leans down and wraps his arms around you, your head at his chest. You cry harder, and he pulls you closer in comfort.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

One, two, three, four.

The drumming was louder than ever. In your head and in your ears. It's not scary anymore though. You move your head away from The Doctor to release you from the hug. The drumming stops. You reach out to his chest without asking, without thinking.

On your hand you feel two heartbeats.

One, two, three, four.

You put your other hand to your own heart. Only one heartbeat. One, two.

Why did he have two heartbeats. One, two, three, four. Why was his the drumming.

"Why-" you start, but need to close your eyes and breathe, "Why does your heart sound like the drumming. Why do you have two heartbeats?"

"Follow me." He walked to the blue police box, opened the door and went inside. You sat there for a moment stunned. Then you cleared your face from your tears and got up. You made your way towards the box, looking at the door before walking inside.

You looked around in amazement. You couldn't believe what you were seeing. Your face broke out into a huge grin. You ran outside and back inside. "This defies all laws of physics! How is it-? It's?" You looked at him expectantly.

"C'mon, I know you want to say it." He had an equally bright, shit-eating grin.

"It's bigger on the inside!"

He laughed with his whole chest and body. His laugh was contagious.

"This," he gestures around the room, "is my T.A.R.D.I.S. Time And Relative Dimension In Space. And I'm a Time-Lord from the planet Gallifrey. We have two hearts, hence the two heartbeats."

You look at him; confusion, amazement, admiration and more displayed on your face.

"Now I don't know why you're hearing my species' heartbeats in your head, but I'm going to figure it out." He looks at you and smiles, you can't help but smile back, "If you want to come with me?"

"With you where?" you ask.

"Anywhere! In the whole wide universe. Not really sure where to start to help you though. Or when for that matter?"

You've never been so confused so many times in the span of one day. "But I have other classes? And don't you too?" Something clicks in your brain, "And what about my parents? And I barely know you! No offense, Doctor. I can't go traveling with someone I don't know."

"If anyone can help you, y/n, it's me. There might not be anyone else in the whole universe." You look at him, desperate now after hearing his words. "And as for your other classes and your family- TARDIS, t," he said, dragging out the sound, "stands for time. She's a time machine. Can take you right back to this moment." He smiled confidently, and made his way towards the center of the room where some sort of console was. He puts his hands on a lever, and looks at you again.

"What?" You asked, awestruck.

"Let me show you." Mischief flashes across his face, but you can tell it's more childlike than malicious. Which is odd for a man who is likely in his sixties.

A whirring sound comes from the center. The door slams shut and the lights start fluctuating. You find it hard to steady yourself as the floor becomes unstable.

"Grab onto something!" The Doctor yells. You do, a railing a few feet away. You grab on tight and try to stand up right. The Doctor is laughing with joy.

One, two, three, four.

The drumming in your head is drowned out by the TARDIS whirring. The whirring sound would soon become a new comfort. And the TARDIS a new home. And The Doctor, he would soon become the most special and fantastic person in your life.

You knew today was going to be a good day. And there are thousands more to come. Thousands more with The Doctor.

He was going to stop the drumming in your head, no matter what he had to do.

[crisis-starter]

Heya!

Back with another part!

Isabeau time!

This is the CIAS version of Bad Touch if that makes any sense.

I hope you enjoy!

)•{+}•<>+<>•{+}•(

The favor tree was always a marvel to Isabeau. A gargantuan tree, capable of granting wishes, or at least giving you hope. Faux hope or not, it always brought a smile to his face. He was tempted to wish for confidence in what he wanted to do. But, for the current situation, that felt selfish. So he wouldn’t wish that for now. After all, maybe he could muster the courage up himself with no help from some ethereal god! Plus, the change god was lazy. They wouldn’t really care about a silly confession, right? Wait, maybe thinking that may be considered a tad sacrilegious. Stop thinking about it, Isabeau.

Siffrin approached, holding an almost exhausted expression. Isabeau could tell that something was up. Siffrin, despite sleeping for a few hours, looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. Isabeau saw Siffrin muster up a strange expression. Eyes closed, smile a little too wide. But still decided that this wasn’t going to worry him too much. Siffrin faced Isabeau and said, “Isa.” Isabeau decided to comment on the exhausted demeanor, but try not to be too mean, “Sif. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed? I get it.” State that he can relate! Good step! But it didn’t look like it did anything.

Try again! Maybe… a distraction? Isabeau looked at the favor tree with a bright smile, “Anyway, I was just looking at the Favor Tree! Isn’t this tree cool?” Siffrin’s expression didn’t change. But he responded at least, “Yeah it is…” Isabeau replied, cheerfully, hoping it was contagious, “Glad you agree!” Siffrin’s expression didn’t change. Something was wrong. Nothing was really working!

Siffrin spoke up again, “One could say it’s a pretty…” This tone… it was set up for a pun! Isabeau looked at Siffrin, ready for the laugh of a century, “Uh huh???” Isabeau always loved to hear Siffrin’s puns. Not only that, but their voice, their combat skill, the look in their eye when he spends time with everyone, everything, every tiny detail that someone might not notice right away… is it not understandable why Isabeau’s heart fluttered around the little rogue? And here came the punchline, “…TREE-mendous tree.” Isabeau ignored the unchanging mask in favor of uncontrollable laughter. Siffrin joined him!

Isabeau felt like grabbing Siffrin’s shoulder as he wound down, but stopped himself. Siffrin’s expression changed to something… odd. It looked like they yearned for something as they kept their eye on Isabeau’s hand. At the same time, it held some level of desperation. It made the fighter sad. He stopped himself, once he caught Siffrin’s gaze and remembering Odile’s warning. Siffrin looked back, clearly coming to some kind of conclusion.

A sharp pain started to develop in Isabeau’s head. Siffrin’s expression turned serious. This… perplexed Isabeau. So he tried to ask, “…Uh, Sif? Ah—“ Without a word, Siffrin grabbed his shirt, pulled him down to his level and…

What?

Wait.

What?

In shock, Isabeau pushed Siffrin back to process what on earth happened to cause the rogue to kiss him out of nowhere. Or, rather, the whole situation itself. The headache was getting worse, the air growing sickly sweet. He didn’t like it. But it took 2 seconds to find a second detail that triumphed over the change in the air. Siffrin expressed… horror. Complete and utter horror. But, seemingly, it wasn’t with Isabeau, it was with-

The headache stopped. The air changed. It was back to normal. Siffrin’s expression quickly changed to that smile from before. But for some reason, it was more unnerving and fake, “Hi Isa! I need to do the Favor Tree thing!” Still recovering from the shock regarding the kiss, Isabeau responded, “Oh! Sorry, I’m in your way then, aren’t I? I’ll get out of your hair, see you at the Clocktower!!!” As he witnessed Siffrin walk towards the tree, he called, somewhat quietly, “Sif?” Siffrin ignored him, Or maybe they didn’t hear. He sighed, then proceeded to walk towards the field in the north of Dormont.

He took a breath in, and out. Then he started to think. What about that first one? Start with the first weird expression. That expression he saw Siffrin had when Isabeau was about to touch him. Didn’t Siffrin have a problem with touch? If so, why did they react like that? Like they were waiting for it. Almost silently begging for it. Why?

Second issue: the air and the headache. Awfully convenient, them happening at the same time. Not convenient. That makes it sound good. Coincidental? Strange? It just felt the slightest bit like a bad omen. Was it Craft? If so, what kind? It felt like time was pushed back a few minutes, so it might be time craft. But wasn’t the use of time craft a death sentence? Then again, the King is using Time Craft just fine. Keep a pin on it just in case.

Third issue: the conclusion, and the sudden change to seriousness along with the actual kiss. It was impulsive, yes. What conclusion did Siffrin come to to warrant such an action? What happened to warrant such an expression? Did Isabeau do something wrong without realizing?

Fourth issue: Siffrin’s expression before time decided to… malfunction? Horror. Pure terror. The way they hugged themselves implied that they were horrified by themselves. Honestly, Isabeau would be very disgusted with himself if he did that but this… that was… he almost wanted there to exist a kind of craft that help someone read minds. It would be royally invasive and Isabeau might never use it because it’s rude at the very least. But it would still be nice to know exactly what he had to work with to make his friends (and crush) happy.

Hold on… Isabeau was forgetting something. The exhaustion… Siffrin wasn’t sluggish, but he did look a bit tired. Or maybe ‘a bit’ is an understatement. The laugh that Siffrin produced also sounded vaguely fake. Like the scene was practiced. And the fake smile after the time rewind thing? It just looked like they were… improvising.

Then there was the case about Mirabelle acting odd, running up to him in a panic before Siffrin arrived. Asking him questions about things he didn’t remember. Maybe he should keep a close eye on those two in the house.

Isabeau approached the meadow overlooking the House of Change. The sight of such a building being distorted so badly did not help alleviate the worry that filled his being. He sighed quietly, hoping to calm his nerves. Isabeau sincerely hoped that Siffrin would recover. Or at least things would get better soon.

Then there was the case about Mirabelle acting odd. Asking him questions about things he didn’t remember. Maybe he should keep a close eye on those two in the house.

)•{+}•<>+<>•{+}•(

Haha, I was going to post this last night.

But I just passed out before I finished editing.

Fair, it was 2:30 AM and I definitely should not have been awake.

I’m having a bit of trouble with Mirabelle’s so it might take me a bit.

Also uh…. This is not being posted in chronological order.

[chaotic-orphan]

Intoxicating Fear (IV)

Breaking Balls

Continued from // Masterpost

I hope this is coherent, it went under a lot of revisions, but finally it is done! And this part is dedicated to @nameless-beanie because it wouldn’t have been updated as quick without their very kind words :3

Enjoy~

*~*~*~*~*

Kit came to, slumped in a chair. His head hanging forward, almost resting on his chest. Omen was squatting in front of him, curious black eyes trained on Kit as he slowly woke up. His head heavy and groggy from sleep.

“Naughty, Kit. Very naughty. I didn’t say you could wake up yet,” Omen scolded, his voice dreamlike and faraway, as if Kit was hallucinating him.

“Where—”

“Shh, Kit. Go back to sleep.”

Kit didn’t fight the command. He was tired anyways. He closed his eyes and willingly let the darkness take him into a dreamless sleep.

When Kit woke again, he was horribly aware that this was the second time he awoke. The realisation sent every nerve in his body on fire, awareness hitting him like a truck as he forced his Omen induced sleeping body awake.

He was in the same chair as last time, a metal chair, he realised, his hands taped to the armrests at the wrist with thick black tape. Bright red rubber gloves that went halfway up his forearm were tapped in the same black tape as his wrist. Kit pulled at his restraints, testing how tight he was stuck, his heart leaping in his chest when he found a little wiggle room. Kit leaned forward in his chair, yanking at his arms, pulling them back and forward and side to side with all his strength trying to loosen the tape further.

Until light flooded the room and Kit froze in his seat, playing possum, hoping Omen hadn’t realised he was awake yet.

“You just keep surprising me, Kit,” Omen said, a smile in his voice. A hand settled on the nape of Kit’s neck and Kit flinched, moving away but the villain’s hand followed him wherever he moved. Kit couldn’t repress the shiver that ran down his spine as he stayed silent, waiting for Omen to speak again. “I’m still not finished with your new predicament, Kit, so I’m afraid you’re going to—”

“No wait!” Kit cried, panic climbing up his throat and bursting from his mouth without any thought. To his surprise, Omen paused, the pad of his thumb running up and down Kit’s throat, waiting for him to continue. Kit swallowed and said, “please, don’t put me back to sleep. Please. I won’t— I won’t fight I’ll be good I just— don’t put me back to sleep, please.”

Omen let go of Kit and walked around the chair to face him. Kit leaned back in his chair, looking up at Omen’s smiling face as he came around to stare at Kit.

“You promise you won’t fight me?” Omen asked, cocking an eyebrow at Kit. Kit licked his lips, shocked at himself for suggesting to willingly be in Omen’s presence longer than he had to, but he just knew he couldn’t go back to sleep again against his will.

It’s not like he was even getting a good rest from it. Each time Kit woke up his body was more and more sluggish, his brain overrun with fear or panic, and he just wanted to have some idea of what Omen was doing to him while he slept.

“I—” Kit began, swallowed, and looked away from Ambrose nodding. Kit was stupid to think a nod would satisfy Omen in all his sadism, and he barely suppressed the flinch when his hand reached out and took Kit’s chin, steering his head back to look at Omen. Onyx eyes studying him, something Kit didn’t recognise gleaming in their fathomless depths.

“Say it,” Omen commanded, his voice just a bit above an alluring whisper.

Kit swallowed hard, wanting to look away again but knew Omen wouldn’t allow it, so he steeled himself and said: “I won’t fight you, just please, don’t put me to sleep again.”

A triumphant smile spread across Omen’s features as he let go of Kit’s face. “Look at that. So polite, Kit, Superhero must have been teaching you something at least.”

Omen’s smile quipped into a smirk as he stepped around Kit’s chair again out of sight. Kit could hear Omen doing something behind him. With his heart hammering against his chest, Kit couldn’t help the curiosity at wanting to see what torture Omen was creating for Kit to endure.

He turned his head to look over his shoulder, but a firm hand rested on his cheek and turned him back to face forward. “Ah, ah, ah, Kit. No peeking. Can’t have you spoiling my fun now, can we?”

Kit didn’t reply, just chewed on the inside of his cheek, eyes trailing back down to the semi-loose tape that kept him restrained to the chair. It was heavy and bulky, not ordinary tape, but Kit didn’t really care about the type of things Omen was tying him up with, he only cared about getting free from it.

As quietly as possible Kit started turning his arm as much as he could, yanking it forward and back, side to side, hoping Omen was too preoccupied with what he was doing to notice Kit’s struggles.

Kit’s head was yanked back by his hair, craning his neck at an awkward angle until he was looking up at Omen. His black eyes regarded Kit coolly, as he said, “the terms of our deal were that you didn’t fight, Kit. Are you telling me you want to go back to sleep?”

“No!” Kit protested and then let out a small whine as Ambrose yanked his head back further.

“Then sit still, and don’t fight. That is the only warning I will give you. The next time you struggle, you’ll be asleep in an instant and when you wake, I’ll make sure you regret your decision.”

Kit couldn’t stop the anger bubbling up in him at his helplessness. “You’re a sick bastard,” Kit spat, and Omen’s features melted into a delighted smirk Kit had grown used to.

“Thank you, Kit. Now be a good little hero and sit still while I work.”

Omen let go of Kit’s hair then and Kit’s head bobbed back up to stare at the wall in front of him.

“Please, stop using my name,” Kit said quietly. He froze like a deer in headlights as he realised, he said that, actually said it out loud for Omen to hear. He heard Omen stop working again and he wished he didn’t say anything at all. Footsteps from the left and then Omen was in front of Kit, staring down at him with his stupid smile. “Forget it.”

Omen tsked, drawing Kit’s attention and keeping his eyes locked on Kit’s. “Is there something wrong with your name?”

“I said forget it.”

“What,” Omen pressed, ticking Kit off. “I just assumed it was your name considering it’s the name that ran through that water Hero’s mind once you showed up. Do you want to be called Christopher or something?”

Kit’s nose scrunched up at Omen. “My full name isn’t Christopher.”

“Then what? –”

“Look, I said it didn’t matter okay!” Kit fumed, unable to control the anger that bubbled up for no good reason. Well, no, a good reason, but misplaced at the time.

Omen stared down at Kit. “You’re annoyed that I know your name.”

“I’m not,” Kit said much too quickly. Omen’s smirk returned.

“Are you upset that I didn’t ask your name?”

“I’m just saying it’s a bit creepy to go around and invading people’s minds and using their name like they gave it to you.”

Omen laughed. “You’re really upset about this, aren’t you?”

Kit huffed out a breath and looked away. Omen’s stupid smirk was doing his head in, and he kind of wished he was knocked out right now so he didn’t have to witness it.

“Hey, Kit,” said Omen, and Kit made a point of not looking at him. “Kit, you have to the count of three to look at me. Thr – good. See, you can learn. You’re so obedient today.”

Kit gave the villain a blank stare. Omen smiled, not his stupid smirk, but a smile that if Kit passed him in the street he would think that he was a nice, normal guy.

“My name is Ambrose,” said Omen. Kit couldn’t help the surprise from knitting his features together. “Nice to formally meet you. Are you satisfied? We both know each other’s name now. Equal footing.”

Kit snorted and pulled his elbows up, showing his tied down arms. “Yeah so equal.”

Ambrose shrugged and walked around the chair again. He wouldn’t admit it, but it did make Kit feel a little better to know Ambrose’s name instead of calling him Omen. Now he had someone to curse and pray to every god to smite before he could torture Kit anymore.  

Restlessness crawled ugly and brutish under Kit’s skin as he stared ahead, fingers clenching into fists, the rubber of the gloves creaking against itself. Only then did it grab Kit’s attention. The fire truck red of the gloves almost comical as he stared down at them. His eyes flashed to the tape, thick and black and heavy.

Kit couldn’t feel the electric currents in his hands from the air, couldn’t feel his power anywhere the gloves were. The realisation settled like acid in his stomach.

Rubber gloves. The bastard used rubber gloves on him. Rubber’s an insulator of electricity, meaning it’s harder to pass a current through it, and Kit only ever used his hands to start a spark. Ambrose had taken his power from him without putting Kit in power dampeners just to prove that he could. To prove who had the real power, how easy it was to take Kit’s power away; put him in metal, in water, make him use his powers against himself then put him asleep and tie him up in rubber and what Kit could only assume to be electrical tape.

Tears gathered behind Kit’s eyes, but he wasn’t upset. Frustrated, yes. Angry, definitely. Not sad. More despairing and hopeless.

What had Mentor ever saw in Kit that would make him take interest in him? Make him his protégé, teach him the ropes of the Hero industry? Kit was a joke. The first villain he encountered solo was Omen, the Omen, and he was completely powerless to stop him; to protect Other Hero, to do anything.

Superhero would have beaten Omen.

Any other hero would have beaten Ambrose, but Kit couldn’t.

He didn’t even deserve the title of Hero.

Kit clicked his fingers anyway, trying to get that spark of friction but nothing happened. The air remained the same. Kit stayed in his chair, trapped and powerless.

He didn’t even notice that Ambrose walked around to his front until the villain crouched to meet Kit’s eye. Fear gripped Kit’s throat and settled at the base of his neck as he met Ambrose’s black smiling eyes. His too red lips quipped into a horribly sweet smile.

When he spoke his voice was gentle, “it’s awful, isn’t it? Knowing that your power is there, sizzling under the surface, knowing that you could still use it.”

“Yeah, I could use it, until you wrapped me up in rubber,” Kit spat, leaning forward in his chair. The side of Ambrose’s lips quirked into a smirk at Kit’s anger.

Ambrose reached his hand out, placing it on Kit’s cheek and Kit, thankfully, didn’t flinch this time. He didn’t pull away, or show that it bothered him, even though Ambrose’s hand was so cold.

“It’s just maddening,” Ambrose laughed, though laugh was a generous word. The sound that came from Ambrose’s mouth was unhinged and baffled. “I could turn your brain to mush like I did to Mentor. Leave you in a pool of your own drool, babbling about true horror and plant shadows in your brain to keep you occupied as you slowly waste away to nothing.”

Kit’s lips curled back into an ugly snarl, glaring at Ambrose as he said, “then how about you make good on your threats and get to it, Ambrose, hmm? Because I feel like sitting here listening to you is a worse fate than Mentor’s.”

Ambrose tilted his head to the side, eyes locked on Kit’s. He must have put up a convincing enough front because Ambrose huffed out a soft breath of a laugh, taking his hand off Kit’s face.

“You know Kit I can see why Mentor and Superhero liked you. When you’re not hanging by your wrists there’s a devil-may-care courage about you that borders on stupidity. I suppose you heroes would call it bravery, though, right?”

Ambrose’s eyes narrowed, his smile staying on his face, unnerving Kit but he didn’t react. “Mentor was the bravest of you all and look what I did to him.”

Kit jerked forward in his chair again, his movements limited by his arms being taped down, but he didn’t care. He was so sick of fearing this fucking Ambrose that he was throwing all caution to the wind.

“Yeah. Mentor was the bravest of us, and you know what Ambrose? As long as you’re around, there will always be brave heroes willing to fight you. All you did with Mentor was put a target on your back and every hero in the city is gunning to take you down.”

“I’m honoured, Kit,” Ambrose said, standing up straight again.

“Do what you want with me,” Kit continued, his words and voice far braver than he felt. He didn’t know where this was coming from, but he didn’t try and stop it. “Torture me, take my powers, talk me to death,” it was Kit’s turn to smile now. “Just know, that Superhero is out there looking for me too, and when he finds you—”

Ambrose let out a small laugh, the melodic sound filling the cool silence, interrupting Kit. Ambrose waved his hand at Kit. “No, no, go on. You were on a roll there.”

“What’s so funny?”

“No, no, Kit. I insist, continue. It’s good to see you brave. Good for your spirits. Keep going, sorry for the intrusion.”

Kit’s hands clenched into fists, the rubber creaking loudly around him. “What?” Kit demanded through gritted teeth, suddenly very aware that he was at a loss to what was happening on the outside world and Ambrose was in the know.

Ambrose rolled his eyes dramatically, but Kit could tell there was something brutal about the glee hidden under his expression.

“I mean…” Ambrose began, but paused for effect, then shook his head, holding his hands up. “I was going to wait until you were more properly secured, but if you insist, I can show you now.”

“Show me what?” Kit all but growled, panic seizing his chest. Ambrose walked behind Kit, and Kit turned his head to follow but Ambrose tsked and said: “eyes forward Kit or you’ll miss it.”

“Miss what?!” Kit demanded, his heart pounding against his chest. The lights switched off and he was plunged into darkness. Kit sat back in his seat, about to ask Ambrose what he was playing at when light flooded the wall in front of Kit and he stared.

Kit felt the blood drain from his face, nausea settling into his stomach and filling the gaping pool of dread and fear that had frozen Kit’s blood in his veins. He was suddenly very cold as he stared at the wall, his hands loosening his fingers from his clenched fist.

It was a picture of Kit and Superhero on the steps of the Hero tower. Superhero had an arm thrown around Kit’s shoulder as he smiled for the cameras. The small podium Superhero did press announcements on in front of them.

The Headline read: SUPERHERO’S SUCCESSOR VOWS CITY IS IN SAFE HANDS. Then a smaller title beside it reads: an insider scoop with the hottest new hero on the block.

The reviews seemed very good, so Kit should be happy that his debut to society was received well, only the article filled Kit with a heart stopping dread.

Kit didn’t debut to society yet.

Kit didn’t do an interview with the City’s Newspaper.

He didn’t hold a press conference with Superhero on the steps of the Hero tower.

That wasn’t Kit.

It was some imposter wearing Kit’s skin and living Kit’s life. Somewhere in the back of Kit’s mind something was screaming, clawing, trying to get free, to warn Kit, to tell him not to forget again.

Forget again?

Kit looked to the date in the corner of the image, and he wanted to scream.

It’s been ten days since Ambrose took Kit.

The image changed and it was another page of the paper. Only this time it was an image of Kit at the docks, wrapping a steadying arm around Other Hero and hauling them away from the docks where… where Ambrose took Kit from.

Kit was going to be sick.

It felt as if every nerve in Kit’s body was clenched, and he couldn’t release the tension from solidifying every part of his body. His breath became laboured, stuttering out incoherent, half formed questions to Ambrose.

“What?”

“How—”

“Who…”

One word is all Kit could manage on the exhale; his ribs felt like he were trying to inflate an accordion with a hole in it. As soon as he got enough air to pump through, to breathe, it was gone, ripped from his lungs by Kit’s quick panicked breaths.

He wanted to look away. He wanted so badly to look away from the wall, the article, the image of them helping Other Hero, but it felt like his eyes had been stapled open and he was forced to take in every detail.

The Headline: SUPERHERO’S PRODIGY: THE HERO FOR HEROES.

Kit’s eyes scanned his face, over and over and over – looking for a flaw, for the catch. For the thing that was wrong so he can catch Ambrose out on a lie because this was just too much.

Still that voice in his head screamed and begged Kit to remember this time.

Kit’s eyes went to the date.

It was published the day after Kit fought Ambrose on the docks, so how? Kit wanted to scream and cry and thrash in his restraints and curse Ambrose, but he just stared, trembling.

“The people love you,” said Ambrose, his smug charm lacing his tone and Kit shuddered. “You’ve made quite an impression, Kit. You should be happy! Celebrating.”

“Yeah, I’ll celebrate as soon as you let me go you fucking psychopath!”

“Hmm,” Ambrose replied, putting a hand on each of Kit’s shoulders. Kit flinched and instantly regretted it, but he didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t know what to do. “Resorting to anger when you’re scared isn’t very healthy, Kit.”

“Shut up!” Kit snarled, yanking at his wrists, and throwing his head back trying to catch Ambrose off guard.

“That’s not very nice Kit.”

“Who is that?!” Kit demanded, turning to look at Ambrose over his shoulder. Furious eyes met the smiling abyss of Ambrose’s and narrowed at the villain’s silence. “WHO IS THAT?!”

The scream that tore from Kit’s throat was desperate and raw. He was crying and he didn’t care, he just needed to know. He needed Ambrose to tell him what he already knew, somewhere, in the furthest, darkest corner of his mind.

“I think you already know,” Ambrose said, smile coy.

“Just tell me,” Kit cried, struggles weakening the longer it took for Ambrose to just answer a simple question. Kit was exhausted, and he wished he’d never stayed awake. He wished Ambrose would have put him to sleep forever and never have him wake up.

There was a reason there was no sign of the imposter in the pictures. Kit knew that as sure as he knew his own face, because… because…

“It’s you, Kit,” Ambrose said, voice soft and deadly. The knowledge went through Kit’s ears like a sweet whisper and plunged into Kit’s heart faster than snake venom.

Kit looked back at the image on the wall, his body heavy, sunken, tired on the chair. Kit stared into the image of him helping Other Hero through bleary eyes, mouth parted slightly because he couldn’t close it. He was crying silently now, the tears flowing freely down the curves of his face that was looking at them on the wall.

Ambrose came around to stand in front of Kit, blocking his view of the paper. Kit didn’t even fight it when Ambrose took his chin in his cold hand and tilted his head. He probably looked horrible, tears and snot flowing freely down his face and chin, eyes hollow and hopeless.

“Nobody is looking for you, Kit,” Ambrose told him softly in his voice that was like sweet honey. Everything he said sounded so lovely, and everything he meant was so horrific. “Superhero’s not looking for you because you’re not missing. At least, in his eyes anyways.”

The sound of the rubber creaking filled the room as Kit clenched his hands into fists because he couldn’t do anything else.

Ambrose tilted his head to the side, as if trying to measure a new angle on Kit’s suffering.

“If I took you and didn’t cover my tracks, well, then, yes. Superhero would be knocking down my door right about now, probably scorching the Earth trying to find you, but as it happens,” Ambrose’s grip tightened on Kit’s chin, his eyes lighting up at Kit’s grimace of pain. “I do cover my tracks, and I cover yours so beautifully that no one knows you’re not you. The world thinks you’re just Superhero’s new hero and why would he need to look any closer?”

“You—”

“Go on,” Ambrose cooed, releasing Kit’s chin, and instead putting his hands on Kit’s forearms, leaning his weight on Kit and relishing in how Kit squirmed in discomfort, but Ambrose didn’t care and kept leaning down until his faces were nearly touching. Kit could feel Ambrose’s warm breath on his cheek as he spoke. “Call me a name again and see where that gets you.”

“He’ll find out,” Kit tried, though the excuse sounded desperate even to Kit’s ears. “He’ll know it’s not me, Superhero—”

“Superhero, Superhero, Superhero.” Ambrose echoed, rolling his eyes before a deadly, charming smile broke across his pale face, stretching his too red lips into a beautifully gruesome smirk. Ambrose reached his hands up to cup Kit’s cheeks, fingers digging into the flesh. “How about you be selfish for once and worry about you, Kit, hmm? There’ll be plenty of time to mourn Superhero once we’re through with the heroes.”

Fear gripped Kit’s heart in its cold, unyielding grip, as if it was pierced with ice, or Ambrose’s vile freezing fingers.

“You can’t—”

“Oh, I know I can’t. But you and me, together, oh, Kit. There isn’t a thing that will stop us, and the best part is, your heroes will never see you coming,” Ambrose said, then booped Kit’s nose and stood up straight again.

“I’ve got some arrangements to make, some evil plans to pour over, and since you beg so beautifully, I am giving you your wish, Kit. I won’t put you asleep again. You can just wait here and stew on things, it was a lot of information to throw at you all at once I realise,” Ambrose said, already walking out of Kit’s sight.

“Wait! Ambrose!” Kit screamed, thrashing like a wild animal in his restraints. “Ambrose! Don’t! Ambrose—”

“It’s okay, Kit. I can be reasoned with. You don’t want to sleep so don’t sleep, relax here. We’ll have plenty of time to chat later.”

“Ambrose!” Kit screamed, his voice cracking. He heard the door open and shut and a lock click into place, but Kit didn’t stop screaming for hours. He pulled and pushed and tore and bit and gnawed and tried to get the tape off his arms so he could stop Ambrose’s heart the next time he saw him.

The tape didn’t relent.

The rubber still insulated Kit’s powers.

The tears still fell.

And eventually, mercifully, Kit fell asleep, slumped in the chair, staring at the wall with his face watching over him.

*~*~*~*~*

continued here

Tag-list (pls lmk if you wanna be added or removed) : @nameless-beanie @andithewhumper @annablogsposts @whatwhumpcomments @whumpasaurus101

[heartbreakgrill]

Delicate: Vessel (Sleep Token); Part 1- "You can make me a drink."

description: Spending the summer touring Europe with her brother and the band he works for sounds like the perfect way to get herself out there, at least, that's what Daisy's intent is. But, with the cocky lead singer of the band, clashing personalities, and an entire summer for tensions to grow, things may not go as they are planned.

a/n: not the story i promised, but one i love. posted on ao3, too. enjoy lovelies <3

“Okay, so, ii is kind of…quiet, I guess? He’s fucking smart as shit. Knows all these random facts, but he just doesn’t talk too much until he gets to know you. Ya know?”

I stared out of the airplane window, Sam’s words distant to my tired brain. My processing skills were not sharp this early in the morning, especially considering the time change we had gone through. I was too focused on the view, anyways. The sky looked ethereal this time of morning, all foggy mountain peaks bleeding into crimson orange, bordered by black, starry clouds. I traced their puffy edges with my bleary eyes in an attempt to not fall back asleep. We were landing, after all, and we’d have to push through busy crowds for the next half an hour. Falling back asleep would take any energy I had left and stomp it out.

“And, then, iii…I am a little concerned about how he’ll act with you because he’s-he’s flirtatious-”

“Ladies and gentleman, we are now landing at Heathrow International Airport in London, England,” the pilot interrupted Sam’s sentence, staticky voice crackling over our heads.

I felt Sam shift in his seat. His elbow knocked against mine on the tiny armrest we had been fighting over the entire flight. I snidely shoved my elbow against his in an attempt to steal the space back. He hissed as it pained his funny bone. I looked over in time to catch the glare he sent me, his fingers rubbing at his bruising bone.

Though he looked annoyed, he kept his murmurs to himself, unwilling to be too aggressive with me this early in the morning- and this early in the trip. We had an entire summer that we still had to spend together. Starting fights now would make it a miserable, long couple of months.

“That was rude,” I heard him say. I ignored him and turned back towards the plane’s window. The ground was growing closer as we shakily descended from the air.

“‘Course, then…there’s Vessel.” Sam continued on his explanation of the band members and a few of the crew workers I would have the opportunity to meet this summer. He had been doing so I woke up fifteen minutes ago.

Not that I planned to hang around Sam and his friends too much. I was taking this time between college graduation and going back for my master’s in the fall to see what little of the world I could manage. I didn’t plan on being stuck indoors at the hotel or backstage at the venues too often. I had plans for each and every tour stop- friends I would be meeting up with, concerts I was going to attend. I had my own long list of tourist attractions I had to see, bucket items I needed to cross off. Sam’s friends sounded lovely, but I didn’t expect to be too attached to them.

“He’s quite, um…How do I describe him? He’s not scary, per say…just…intense. He’s quiet and brooding and I don’t really think you’ll like him too much, ya know? Anyways.”

Sam unbuckled his seatbelt. I finally peeled my eyes from the window, the edges of my lids burning with exhaustion. I undid my own belt, reached down to gather my book bag, and looped my neck pillow under my arm.

Sam looked down at me with a tired smile, “You’ll be meeting them all very soon, so…you can just find out for yourself.”

I offered up a grin, even if my face fought back at the energy this action required. “Thanks for having me, Sam-Ham.” I moved to rest my head against his shoulder, sweetly. I probably could have slept right there if we weren’t having to pile out of the plane.

He went to rest his own head against mine, but as soon as the nickname quietly passed my lips, he flinched, back straightening up. “Please don’t call me that in front of them. Please, Daisy. Please. I don’t have any other rules you have to follow. I’m giving you complete freedom on this tour. Just- please. Don’t say that.”

My grin twisted into a devious smirk. Sam’s brown eyes were pleading, a frown sitting deep in his wrinkled cheeks. “Aw, what do you mean, Sam-Ham? Are you embarrassed?”

He flinched again at the nickname. I’d given it to him when I was four and he was just eight. He loved ham and cheese sandwiches at the time and refused to eat basically anything else. Ever since that month-long fight of mom trying to force him to consume any semblance of a vegetable or fruit, I’d coined him as such with zero ounces of shame. On social media posts, his birthday cards, at his own high school graduation party. No shame.

“Daisy-” he went to plead again, but I wouldn’t let him.

“Everyone’s getting off. Let’s go.” I pushed past Sam, ignoring him. I marched out of our aisle, then off the plane, Sam hot on my heels. His frustration with the nickname had melted into protectiveness as he tried to keep up with me. He’d always been overbearing, and I think he’d only be more annoying about it during this trip.

The air in London was chilly, though it was felt only briefly as we walked down through the terminal. I was grateful to have a hoodie wrapped around my waist, and managed to slip it on as we walked. I knew it would warm up as the day passed on, though. It was May, after all, and London had that weird spring weather, with chilly mornings and sweltering afternoons. At least, this information was according to Sam and a few Google searches on my end.

Sam caught up to my side as we headed for baggage claim. He had his phone out, ready to shoot someone a text, “Okay…”

I spotted our bags spinning past where we stood. As he continued, I reached out and grabbed them. They landed on the floor beside us as Sam said, “Ronnie- Ronnie’s the band’s tour manager, also one of my best friends, ever. You might like her-”

“I like everyone, Sam, unless they’re an asshole. I don’t know why you assume I’m such a hater-”

“Cause you are!” He said, matter-of-factly. I always hated when he’d make negative observations about me. I knew I was his little sister, his annoying little sister who threw dirt at him when we were little, who he had to drag along on first dates in high school. But, I was more than that spoiled brat, especially now. I hoped this summer would help him see that, hoped he would gain some respect for me based on the difference in the real me and who he knew.

I wanted to shove his suitcase at him, just to spite him for making such a comment. But, I simply smiled up at him and rolled the luggage towards his outstretched hand. Before he could really say anything, I shot towards the exit.

“Anyways!” He rushed up to my side, breathless from how quickly I walked.

He shoved his mop of dirty blond hair into his phone as he continued texting someone. “Ronnie’s sent over an Uber,” he spoke, absentmindedly.

The automatic doors slid open. We stepped out into the chilly morning air of London. Had Sam’s head not been shoved into his phone, he would have been able to see the glorious sight lain out before us. He unfortunately didn’t, but I sure did.

I came to a halting stop, a humored grin upon my face. Sam bumped into my shoulder, but still wouldn’t look up from his phone. “Uber is a gray sedan-”

I giggled, stepping towards the group of men standing before us, party hats upon their heads, noisemakers between their lips, and a god awfully hand drawn sign held out before them.

Sam, dark brows furrowed, questioned my laughter, “What-?”

He finally pulled his nose from his phone. As he did, I took a party hat from one of the band member’s outstretched hands. We all blew into our noisemakers. Chaos erupted.

“Welcome back from rehab, Sam!” The shortest of the group held the sign up proudly, a bright grin on his face.

“What the fuck-?”

The tallest man- who had sandy blond hair and stormy gray eyes- a literal personification of the beaches in England- nearly tackled Sam, crushing his frame between the hand drawn sign and his hugging arms. I pulled the noisemaker from my mouth as a laugh erupted from me. The others rushed forward to greet their friend. Sam’s face was flushed red from the words on the sign, but he looked so incredibly happy, embracing each of them. They were all dressed in dark black clothing, save for a few spots of royal blue, maroon, or forest green. It was in stark contrast to my pink hoodie and gray sweatpants. Sam was right when he said these people weren’t my usual crowd, but wrong when he just assumed I wouldn’t like them. Yet another example of his misconstrued perception about who I really was. Just because I was girly, a Taylor Swift lover, with my favorite colors being purple and pink, didn’t mean I automatically could not stand people in the metal crowd. They were just different from me- that was all.

I did keep my distance, though, just as they greeted each other. I waited for Sam to introduce me, which he did shortly after. Their chaos faded as he moved his way back through the group, back to me. He faced them from here, an arm around my shoulders. “This is my baby sister-”

I elbowed his side, frowning at his choice of words. He squirmed away from me, a slight hiss pulled through his lips because of the pain. I stepped forward, offering my hand to the closest person- a short, blond-headed man with these brilliant blue eyes. “Daisy.”

He shook my hand politely, “Pleasure to meet you, Daisy. I’m-” He cut his own words off, glancing over my shoulder to Sam. ‘‘Wait…Are we introducing ourselves as, like, numbers or real people?”

I cracked a smile at the confusion. The tall man beside him, clutching the sign he’d made Sam,, shrugged, “We’re already unmasked. Might as well.”

“I can sign something,” I let go of his hand with a casual wave in my arms. “I don’t mind.”

“We can take care of that later,” another short one, darker haired with slight ringlets to his hair and green in his eyes, stepped forward. He took my hand, “Adam.”

“Cyrus. Cy, for short,” settled the original one.

I nodded at each of their introductions. The tallest one was named Max. He must have been three, considering he kissed the back of my hand and smirked up at me. Also considering Sam stepped between us and punched Max in the shoulder. He was right about the flirtations, though I didn’t mind it too much. I knew it was harmless.

Finally, I turned to the last band mate. I held out my hand. He glanced between it and my face, lips thin, face void of any expression. My brows furrowed slightly. I felt insecure under his harsh gaze, but I kept my kind composure, “Daisy. Nice to meet you…”

“Oliver.”

He didn’t say anything else. He didn’t move to take my hand, didn’t offer up any kind greetings. My once joyous smile morphed into a frown. Sam had warned me he was brooding, quiet. But, not rude. He was just plain rude.

I didn’t have time to ruminate on this meet-ugly, though, because Sam was then herding us all into a taxi. They had meetings to get to, I guess. I was given the front seat, which only made me feel a little left out. I knew that would probably happen, considering Sam had been working for them for four years now and I was a newbie. So, I didn’t take it to heart. Sitting in the front of a taxi was mostly just awkward.

What I did take to heart, however, was Oliver’s rude introduction. Perhaps it was because I was so tired, but…it bothered me. I didn’t want to spend the summer with an asshole like him. As we got onto the busy road, thirty minutes counting down on the GPS for our arrival at the first venue, I eyed him in the mirror, a slight glare in my tired eyes

He sat behind the driver’s seat, large legs pushing up against the door and spilling into Cyrus’ space. I didn’t get a good look at him earlier, too focused on the bad energy he bled. From what I gathered through the rearview mirror’s reflection, he had sharp features- a long nose, pursed, pink lips, high cheekbones, and a neck that more than definitely spilled into a toned chest. His eyes were dark, brown, maybe, but I remembered that, outside, when the sun hit them, they were lighter. His hair was a medium shade of brown, shaggy before his eyes, but clean cut on the sides.

He was kind of attractive. But, that didn’t matter, considering he’d made such a terrible first impression. I knew he was Vessel because, even though he’d muttered just one word to me, his dark voice matched the one from the songs that Sam had forced me to listen to before we left. He was probably full of himself, the fame inflating his head, his ego, which was why he gave such a shit introduction. He honestly probably just thought he was too good for little girls like me, though he was only seven years older than me.

Like I said, I didn’t have anything against people who listened to metal. But, part of the reason I could never really get into the shit that Sam liked, was because most of the band’s seemed to be like this Vessel, this Oliver guy. Stuck-up, self-involved, all struggling artists who thought the world was out to get them, though, in reality, they were elitist, straight, white, cis men who had more privilege in their pinky fingers than I had in my entire body.

Either I had been staring for too long, or he felt my gaze, because his dark eyes met mine in the mirror. I flinched, quickly snapping my chin towards the window. I pressed my knees against the door, arms crossed over my chest ashamedly, trying to melt away. I caught sight of the exposed skin on my arm, where my hoodie sleeve had been tugged up a bit from my restlessness, and saw goosebumps littering my body. Why was my body reacting to his stare this way?

I sulked in my frustration the entire ride there, ignoring the sense that I could still feel his eyes burning into me. Eventually, I guess, I passed out, even though the morning fog cleared the view outside my window, displaying the beautiful, stretching buildings of the city. If I were awake, I could appreciate the glorious architecture, the landscapes of this foreign land.

Someone woke me up, their warm hand pressed upon my shoulder. “We’re here.”

I knew it wasn’t Sam, only because, as I sat up in my seat, I saw him standing at the back of the taxi, pulling our luggage from the trunk. Besides, he didn’t have an accent like this person did. I turned to see who had so gently awoken me, but the backseat remained empty.

I gathered my things, swinging my backpack straps over my shoulders as I stepped onto the cobblestone of the hotel parking lot. It was sprinkling, so I tugged my hood up and over my head. Sam then rounded the car, dragging my suitcase behind him noisily.

“Here,” he rolled it to a stop before me. His eyes examined my face for a moment, seeing the furrowed brows and scowl I wore, “You doing okay?”

I shivered, hugging my arms around my body. I felt kind of sick, probably from the jet lag. I tried to look not so bitchy, but I couldn’t do that when my head was pounding and vile threatened my throat. “Yeah,” I nodded, half-heartedly, “just need to lay down, I think.”

“S’okay,” Sam patted my head, “we’ll check into the hotel quickly and get you into bed, okay?”

I nodded again. Sam took my suitcase back into his hold and gestured for me to follow him. The band was just a few feet behind us as we headed into the hotel. I wanted to stop, take a look around, snap a billion photos of this newfound dreamland. But, my head was pounding more as we moved about. My stomach ached from hunger and exhaustion. I needed a long nap, even if it would fuck up my sleep schedule more than it already was going to be.

We reached the front desk. Sam began speaking to the attendant there, our reservation details pulled up on his phone screen, in the email management had sent him. Because I was tagging along and didn’t exactly work for the band, Sam and I would be forced to share lodging in each and every city. Luckily, I’d managed to snag my own bunk on the tour bus. But, when we’d jump between countries, I had to buy my plane tickets. I didn’t mind, considering this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and that really wasn’t asking much from me.

I leaned against the counter, arms still wrapped around my body as I hunched forward. I squeezed my eyes shut in an attempt to ease the headache. Sam, the attendant, the band- their voices were all distant, like I was on another plane of existence.

But, another voice- one delicate, with an unfamiliar accent- became relevant to my hearing as he approached me. “Jet lag getting to you, love?”

I opened one eye and, upon seeing Max, straightened up a bit, “Oh, fuck,” I chuckled quietly. “It is.”

“Doesn’t get any better, just to warn you,” he shoved his large hands into the pockets of his black jeans. Stray pieces of his blond hair fell from the bun at the back of his hair.

I nodded up at him, neck straining, considering he towered over me, “Amazing news, thank you.”

“You need to invest in some energy drinks, loads of excedrin, and get good at cat napping,” he offered up the little advice he’d gathered from his years of experience touring.

Sam turned back to us, holding out a key card for me to take. I thanked him, plucking the key from his fingers, before looking back at Max, “Thank you, too. I’ll go try out this cat nap you speak of.”

Max grinned at me with a slight scrunch in his nose. I tried and failed to return the expression. Then, I continued on following Sam towards the elevators. I glanced behind us as we stepped inside and saw that the band was b-lining for the front doors. Just as the gray metal doors of the room boxed us in, I saw one of them peer over his shoulder, looking back at us. Sam didn’t notice, too busy pressing our floor number into the key pad. But, I did.

Oliver and I met eyes. He quickly looked away. The doors shut.

-

I tried to take a cat nap. I well and truly tried. I even turned a timer on for twenty minutes, promising myself that I would get up as soon as the alarm went off. I kind of knew that was going to happen when, as soon as my head hit the stack of plump pillows, my burning eyes immediately fell shut.

I guess my body had other plans than taking that cat nap.

As the alarm rang, Sam stepped out of the bathroom, where he had been showering and getting ready for the day. It was, after all, only 10am, and he had a job to report to. He sat down on my bed, near my chest. He set a warm hand down upon my shoulder.

I squirmed under the covers, fully waking as I felt his touch. I aggressively shut off the noisy alarm and groaned into my pillow.

Sam chuckled, squeezing my arm again. “Go back to sleep, Daz.”

“I want to, but…I don’t want to waste the day away. God, this sucks!”

He laughed again, “You’ll get more used to it. Besides, we have a whole other week in this city. You will have plenty of time to see everything you want to.”

“Where are you going?” My own words were muffled by my unwillingness to open my mouth all the way. Sam patted my head soothingly and I felt myself quickly falling back asleep, like the rain pattering against the window pane. I barely understood what he was saying now, too dazed and confused. “The venue. Have some meetings and shit. I’ll send you the address if you want to stop by. Just, take it easy for me today, Daz.”

His comforting demeanor, his warm touch, the love and gentleness that he treated me with- it only coaxed me further into my slumber. Sam pressed a kiss to my head before leaving. The door to the hotel room clicking shut was the last thing I’d consciously hear for the next eight hours.

-

I woke with a sharp intake of breath. There was a dry taste in my mouth, drool crusted in the corner of my lips, and a sheen of sweat clung my t-shirt to the skin of my back. I sat up, so I could peel my hoodie off, a gross expression morphing onto my face. My head still hurt, but the Excedrin I had taken that morning was helping just a bit.

I lazily made the bed, knowing I would be back in its clutches in just a few, short hours. The process made me feel a bit normal, though I was thrown off my rhythm completely. As I did it, my stomach growled, angrily. I realized at that moment that I hadn’t eaten anything all day. The last thing I remember consuming was that souvenir package of pretzels on the plane- and that was nearly 24-hours ago.

First things first- I had to shower. So, I scrubbed the plane dust, the sweat, from my skin. Then, I dressed in something easy: leggings, a reputation album hoodie, my white sneakers. I clipped my wet hair up, away from my face, and filled my purse with what I thought were essentials- my passport, in case I managed to get lost somewhere- a portable charger, my wallet, hotel key card, a can of pepper spray. I knew Europe was much more safe than America, but- I still needed to be cautious.

As I rode the elevator down the stairs, I shot Sam a text. There were five unanswered ones from him- the address to the venue, a photo of the outside of it, a check-in to see if I was okay, a pin-drop of his location, and, finally, one of him informing me that he was returning to the hotel with the band.

I reached the lobby and spotted them all at the hotel bar. They had taken up a table in the corner, noisy, chaotic, bordering on drunk. The rest of the room was nearly emptied out, probably because of them. Max saw my approaching figure first. He raised a hand to wave, interrupting Sam to say, “Look who it is! Cat nap do you any good?”

I shook my head at his words, a small giggle on my lips, “Not at all. I slept for eight hours.”

“Oh, shit,” Sam turned in his chair to face me. “I was wondering ‘cause you never responded to my texts.”

“Sorry,” I shrugged. Cyrus and Adam gave their attention to me. I looked over their faces with a polite smile before my eyes landed on their lead singer. He clutched onto an amber colored drink, head pointed down towards the table. He didn’t even have the decency to look at me when I was speaking.

I took a deep, annoyed breath, countering my vision back to Max, as he said, “You’ll get in the swing of things soon enough.”

I ignored the frustration Oliver fueled in my bones and said, “Just mad I wasted a day.”

Adam tilted his glass to me, “It’s okay, Daisy. You didn’t miss much.”

“No?” I inquired, glancing around the men before me.

They all shook their heads. Cyrus frowned, “Just meetings. Boring shit like that.”

“You have all summer, Daz. You can start catching up tomorrow,” Sam reassured me again.

“Well, I am gonna go out tonight. Just for a bit,” I replied.

Max nodded appreciatively at my plans, ‘'Whatcha gonna do? Hit the town? Go dancing, maybe?”

“Eat my weight in Nando's, actually,” I giggled in response.

The boys shared a round of laughter. I glanced at Oliver, but his head was still down. He was scrolling his phone, now, frowning though the rest of us were having a great. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes and looked at Cyrus. “Nando's is great. You’ll like it.”

“Hope so.”

Sam finished off his drink with just a small sip. “I should come with you.”

I waved him off, “I’ll be okay. I’m gonna be alone a lot this summer. Best to get used to it now.”

“It’s late, though,” he offered up again.

“It’s fine, I promise. I’ll give you my location and you can anxiously watch my little avatar move around London, okay?”

Sam huffed in agreement, unwilling to argue with me. I was an adult, after all. He didn’t really have a say as to what I did, though I wasn’t unappreciative of his efforts. Then, Max spoke again, “Well, you’ll have to let us take you out another time, though. Maybe even take you dancing. There’s a great nightlife here in London.”

“Yeah, that could be fun,” I nodded. My stomach growled and, luckily, I was the only one to have heard it. I began to wrap up the short conversation, “I’m gonna get going. I haven’t eaten all day and I feel like I’m gonna turn into the Hulk soon. See you all tomorrow?”

Sam stood from his seat and enveloped me in a short hug. “Be safe, Daz.”

As we pulled apart, I reached up on my toes to ruffle his sandy hair. I settled back onto my heels, my smile morphing into a mischievous smirk as I thought of a silly way to throw him off. I tilted my head to the side, teasing, “Sure thing, Sam Ham.”

I rushed for the exit, escaping the hotel bar before he could retaliate. I knew I had made his face flush a deep red. I could even hear the band’s laughter trailing behind me as they teased him for the nickname. It was a good start to what felt like it could be one of the best summer’s of my life.

As long as Oliver stayed out of my way.

-

I was gone for just two hours. I struggled to find Nando’s at first because Google had me walking in circles. But with a little help from a CVS worker, I finally reached the restaurant. I ordered a little more food than I was probably able to eat because I wanted to sample the popular menu. Between the mass amount of food and the speed at which I ate, it wasn’t long until I was full.

After I left the building, I took a stroll, finally in a decent enough headspace to be able to appreciate the lit-up city. It was Monday, and nearly 10pm, so most of the shops and bars were closed for the evening. When something interested me, I simply wrote down in my notes app so I could remember to come back. Tomorrow, I decided, I would return to this little corner of the world.

Elated with the excitement of this promising journey, the mood only heightened from the hunger dissipated in my bones, I made it back to the hotel. Though Sam had promised me he would stay up, he was curled up under the blankets, passed out. I wasn’t mad- I knew he needed to get a good night’s rest. Besides, back home, I lived alone, came and went late at night all the time. I didn’t need him to look out for me to this extreme extent. I tucked the blankets up under his chin a bit more snugly, plugged his phone in, and ensured I was quiet as I got myself ready to lay down.

However, I threw the covers off of myself after struggling to sleep for over an hour. My body was buzzing. I was just not going to be able to fall asleep for a while. I could feel the energy pulsing through my body, excitement forcing my once tired eyes to jolt open unwillingly. I needed to get up, move around, do something to get this jumpiness to leave me alone.

I pulled my once abandoned hoodie overtop my pj set, shoved my feet into the pair of slippers I’d packed. Rummaging through the mini-fridge, I pulled out a few small bottles of liquor- three vodka shots, one Jack Daniels. These few should be enough to get me to sleep.

I piled them into my purse, grabbed my phone off the nightstand, and headed out the door. I didn’t know where I was going when I got into the elevator, but my eyes scanned over the button pad and found an option for the roof. That seemed like a good enough place to chill for a while.

The air was cold, but not in a bitter way. My warm skin almost welcomed the stark contrast. It seemed to coax the buzz of energy out of my system once I began to shiver. There were a few patio chairs set up around fire pits or grills. I picked a huddle that was positioned towards the corner of the roof, sitting myself criss-cross on a maroon-colored couch.

I unlocked my phone and shuffled my liked songs playlist on Spotify. I uncapped one of the shots and downed it with a scrunched face. I never much liked the taste of alcohol because it was so bitter. And, then, because of that, tolerance was low and I was an annoying light weight. It immediately made my chest feel warm. At least two of these would probably coax me to sleep, no problem.

“Gonna share?”

I flinched at the deep voice, eyes snapping from examining the front of the bottle to the body seated across the firepit from me. It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the light from the small tiki lamps surrounding our section of the roof. But, when they did, my pupils widened in slight shock.

“How long have you been sitting there?” I replied, tone a little more than annoyed that he was just now announcing himself.

“Long enough to know you can’t take a shot,” there was a smirk in his voice, a cockiness that made me want to wipe it clean off his pink, plump lips.

“Sorry I’m not an alcoholic,” I snide back. “If you want one, you have to come get it, by the way. I’m comfy now.”

“Comfy with this trash music playing?” He quipped, though he stood and reached out for the alcohol..

I begrudgingly handed him a vodka bottle, though his comment only annoyed me further, “Real men like Taylor Swift.”

“Hey, haven’t you heard? I’m a vessel. Not a man.”

I watched in silence as he took the shot. He held my eyes in his. There was a teasing sense edging at his pupils. I couldn’t quite read what he intended with his gaze, his quips. Maybe he was really trying to piss me off even more. I already figured him an asshole, based off of how he acted each time I saw him today. But, with every sentence that passed, this belief was only carved deeper.

I pressed my lips together in an attempt to soothe my frustration. If he really just wanted to get on my nerves, I wasn’t going to let him know it was working. I would just be sickly sweet in return. “So, Vessel, what are you doing up here? Can’t sleep?”

“Obviously,” he waved me off.

I watched him for another moment, wondering what I could say to bother him back. He took a cigarette and a lighter from his hoodie pocket. The end of it glowed red from the small flame. and he sunk it between his lips. When he pulled it out, he flicked his brows at me, as if to offer a drag. I frowned, head shaking, “That’s okay. Thanks.”

“Hm…too good for a smoke, then?” He flicked off the end of the cigarette, sending ashes down to his pant leg, onto the concrete of the roof below us.

I watched as they fell, a glare in my gaze, “More like my mom died of lung cancer because she smoked for thirty years.”

Oliver held the cigarette mid-air, paused from bringing it to his lips. He flicked his brows again, rubbed his lips together, Then, he tossed the stick onto the floor and stomped it with the toe of his boot. “Sorry.”

“Mhm,” I challenged, knowing I now had the upper-hand because of his obvious guilt. All I could think was that I really did not like him. But he was so fucking hot.

“I’d ask what you’re doing up, but I figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep after the day you had.”

“Yeah, no,” I chuckled dryly.

Oliver peeled his eyes from my face, looking out over the city lights sprawled out before us. He pondered for a moment, the process obvious because of the way it sat on his face- his eyes darkened, his brows furrowed, and he frowned. I wanted to make a comment about how I could see the smoke billowing from his ears as he thought, but he met my eye again.

“What’s your deal, Daisy?”

I wouldn’t admit it, but I loved the way my name sounded on his pretty pink lips. I wanted to hear it, closer, right next to my ear, in a much darker setting, wearing way less clothing. I shook away the thought, hoping it wasn’t obvious that he had thrown me for a loop. I ignored the smirk that curled on his mouth, shifted in my seat, and shrugged, “What the fuck does that mean?”

Oliver laughed, a dry, hollow sound that I quite enjoyed. I opened the other shot of vodka and went to take it, needing desperately to quiet my brain. But, he replied, “What are you here for?”

“What are you here for?” I leaned forward to toss him the bottle of Jack Daniels.

He took it, then stretched his arms out over the back of the couch he sat upon, the bottle hanging loosely from his fingers.. “Good question. For our music, I suppose. To perform it for our listeners.”

“That’s not what you’re here for,” I rejected his words, shaking my head just slightly, “That’s what everyone else is here for. What about you, Oliver?”

He glanced around. Smoke, ears again. I nearly cracked a smile at the parallel before he finally responded, “To…worship. To celebrate my music, myself…life.”

I held the shot out towards him, offering a cheer up to what he had said, “To life.”

Oliver leaned forward on the couch, stopping me before I could take the shot, “Wait, what about you?”

“There’s no deeper meaning to anything I do,” I waved him off with a small giggle. The air between us was growing more comfortable as we opened up to each other. Maybe Sam was right- maybe Oliver just needed to get to know me before he stopped being an ass. It didn’t make it okay, that he was like that. It was definitely a trauma response. But, it was alright. I’d be over it by the morning, especially considering some semblance of a friendship was blossoming here between us.

“Oh, Daisy, there’s always deeper meaning to everything humans do. Think. What’s yours?” He lay a hand out, as if I had to fill that empty air with my response.

I glanced from his hand, out to the city, thinking over the question. What was mine? Why was I here? I wanted to take a break from reality before my life would really start. I wanted to see the world. I wanted to visit friends, to discover life beyond my small corner of the map. But, what did it all mean to me? What was my purpose this summer? I was always quite stagnant. I just…existed. I don’t think I ever really lived, found that meaning within what I did.

“I guess…” I met his eye again, finding some answers in my own thoughts, “I guess…to find that deeper meaning. To find what I’m looking for, maybe.”

“Then, to life…to discovering life. To finding life,” he sampled a few phrases before settling upon what he’d come up with..

We both leaned our arms out until our shot glasses clinked together. It was cheesy, meta, a conversation that, 24 hours ago, I would have snorted at. At least, that’s what the girl who boarded the plane last night would have done. Maybe I was changing already, and maybe it was for the better. Maybe this summer really would be about discovering life, discovering my own.

I didn’t think we’d find much else to talk about, but that was quickly proven wrong. We spent the next hour and a half involved in a deep conversation, swapping childhood stories, dreams, favorite songs and movies. Oliver wasn’t so bad, wasn’t so depressing as I originally thought he was. Sure, he had plenty of skeletons in the closet. But, he was funny, too, with niche interests, interesting stories that drew laughter out of me. I hadn’t thought this was possible.

Eventually, we both needed to get to bed. He had to be up in just six hours and I wanted to get a good start on the next day. I was finally starting to feel tired, too. So, we boarded the elevator together, only after tossing his cigarette bud and shot bottles into the trash.

Oliver reached across my body to press the button for our floor. As his body passed mine, I caught a sweet whiff of his cologne. It rattled my brain around. That, combined with his warm breath, and the alcohol in my system, shivered goosebumps down my spine.

As he settled back on his heels, I braved a glance up at his handsome face. He was already looking down at me. The small smile on his plump lips stretched into a teeth-bearing grin. I blushed at the expression on his face.

I didn’t care anymore, not about his rude greetings, his annoyed stature at the bar earlier. I didn’t care about any of it, if it would mean he would keep looking at me like he was right now.

My eyes felt like they glazed over as we stared at one another. Oliver turned his shoulder, facing his chest towards me. The action was an opening door, an encouraging lure into dark places I should stray from. But, I didn’t.

I faced him, too, fingers grasping at my hoodie sleeves, nervously. Oliver tucked his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He spoke, softly, quietly, “You’re very pretty, Daisy.”

I blushed, again. I went to step forward, to make some sort of move in return. But, then, the elevator doors were cracking themselves open. A bell rang overhead.

I guess it broke whatever trance we were both in. Oliver stepped out first, but didn’t move to stride away. He waited for me to join him in the hall. We walked, side by side, towards our rooms, silence taking up so much space and time. Maybe I was being delusional, but I really thought he was going to make some sort of move on me. It probably wouldn’t be for the best, but…Either way, I was grateful for the bond we had begun to form. It would make for a great tour, I just knew it.

Just as I reached my door, Oliver softly called out my name. I turned to him, hand on the door knob, ready to escape into the confines of my bed to think over everything. I met his dark eyes, catching the light in the golden flecks of his pupils. He smiled, “Thanks for staying up with me.”

I couldn’t help but grin back, appreciative of the time we’d spent, hopeful for the future of our friendship (even if I had imagined him blowing my back out in the elevator). “Thank you, Oliver. Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

And see him I did.

When Sam’s alarm went off, I joined him in getting ready, deciding to hit the town early. We went down to breakfast together, my attitude a little more perkier than his, considering the jet lag had started to get to him. And, considering I was excited to see my newfound friend.

We sat with Max and Adam. I greeted them both with a kind smile, my plate of pancakes coming to rest on the table before me. We chatted just a bit, everyone a little more quiet than usual due to the slowness of the morning time.

I finished up my first pancake just as Cy and Oliver sat down with us. I looked up from my plate, grinning despite myself, and tried to meet Oliver’s eyes. “Good morning, guys.”

Cy glanced up, a tired smile on his face. “Morning, Daisy. Sleep okay?”

It took more than a moment before I looked at him, mind focused on catching Oliver’s eyes, “Yeah, thanks. Struggled for a bit, but managed to get to sleep after Ol-”

“Butter,” Oliver reached out a hand, eyes trained onto his plate.

I peeled my gaze from Cy, my smile faltering when I realized Oliver was holding out a hand towards me. He was waiting for me to pick up the plate and hand it to him, without any sign of a please or, God forbid, a greeting. Not to mention, he interrupted me as soon as I had begun to mention our escapade from the night before.

I narrowed my eyes, hoping my burning stare would rattle him. But, it did nothing, so I picked up the butter and shoved it into his hand. He settled it onto the table before him and didn’t say anything else.

What was going on here?

I was thrown for a loop, which seemed to just be the case when it came to him. He was a game, I realized now. And, I did not plan on playing it. Cy looked up from his plate, “After what, Daisy?”

I tried again, just to confirm if that interruption had been as intentional as it seemed, “After Ol-”

He coughed. He coughed right through my words, stopping me from saying his name; again. His gaze was still locked on his plate as he buttered his toast. He blinked. Didn’t make any move to excuse himself, apologize. Nothing.

I gave up then, reading the situation well enough to understand he didn’t want anyone to know about last night. I settled on saying, “After downing a couple shots of vodka. Helped me get to…sleep.” I continued to watch Oliver as I spoke, my -tone flat, frown settled deep into my cheeks.

Cyrus responded, though I wasn’t listening anymore. Max conversed back, moving onto some wild, drunken story from last tour, intended to make me laugh. I tried to catch onto their words, tried to give them the chuckles they searched for. The attention they deserved, and Oliver did not.

But, I couldn’t draw my eyes from his face. After a few minutes, he finally glanced up, though it was quickly, barely looking long enough for me to catch his eyes.

This was going to be a long summer.

[bimoonphases]

@wolfstarmicrofic September 9 - prompt 9: Owl [word count 631]

Sirius had woken up early that day, so early he had heard James get up from his bed and quietly walk out of their dorm. He hadn’t slept well, which wasn’t surprising, but at least he hadn’t had nightmares this time, and that was depressingly rare. Still, he didn’t manage to fall back asleep so he ended up padding across the room to Remus’s bed. Taking a deep breath, he slightly pulled aside the curtain. Burrowed under the covers as always, Remus opened an eye.

“Sirius?” he yawned.

“I’m sorry,” Sirius couldn’t help but saying.

That had been a bad idea. They had all become fast friends since their ride to Hogwarts a couple of months before, but that only meant he should preserve that friendship, not be his usual annoying self that could so easily alienate them, the same exact way he had alienated his own mother by just being himself.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

He made to let the curtain go, but Remus pushed himself up and gently took his hand in his.

“Worried about turning twelve today?” he smiled.

Sirius could just nod. As always, Remus had guessed what jumbled thoughts were running through his brain. His first birthday since starting Hogwarts, his first birthday away from home, away from Regulus. His first birthday since his parents had labeled him a disgrace to the family name.

“Come in,” Remus said.

Sirius obeyed, burying himself under the blankets by Remus’s side.

“I just want to forget what day it is,” he confessed. “I’ll just imagine it’s not my birthday, it’s a useless day anyway.”

“It’s not,” Remus hugged him tightly. “I for one am really glad you were born. And so are James and Peter.”

Sirius didn’t answer. He just buried his head in the other boy’s shoulder and let himself be held until he fell asleep again.

When he woke up, Remus wasn’t by his side. Sirius blinked a couple of times then sat up, his eyes landing on a tray with freshly baked chocolate muffins and a steaming pot of tea at the foot of the bed, sat right by a cage from where a barn owl was looking at him curiously.

“And who are you?” Sirius asked.

“He’s up boys,” Peter’s voice said from behind the bed curtains.

A second later, the curtains had been thrown back and James, Peter and Remus had launched themselves at Sirius.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY SIRI!!!” they chorused, almost knocking him out while the owl hooted in protest.

“Here, have a birthday muffin,” Remus said, shoving one in his hands while he took two for himself.

“Thank you,” Sirius said, looking at his friends then back at the cage. “What’s with the owl?”

“It’s your birthday present,” James beamed. “From all of us. You know, since your parents don’t allow you to use the family one anymore and you’re always having to use one of the school owls to write your brother back home.”

“You… You got me my own owl?” Sirius stared at James.

“James’s parents chose him, James went to the owlery this morning to collect him,” Peter smiled.

“But it was Remus’s idea,” James added. “The whole thing.”

“I…” Sirius swallowed, feeling tears prickling his eyes, but for once they weren’t the bad kind of tears. “Thank you.”

“How are you going to call him?” Peter asked, pouring the tea in the four mugs piled on the tray.

“Oh, that’s easy,” Sirius smiled, opening the cage and offering a piece of muffin to the owl, who took it and pecked him affectionately on the finger. “His name is Gryffin.”

He cautiously petted the owl’s head, all the bad feelings of when he had first woken up that morning gone. Maybe turning twelve wouldn’t be so bad after all.