#apollo tummy soft and warm

[huyandere]

happy anniversary to klapollo first meeting here's my artistic depiction of what i think happened shortly after

[ma1dita]

play pretend

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

words: 5.1k (holy shit)

summary: (established relationship…at the end of it lol) suggestive in nature but sfw , underage drinking what do you expect from a dionysus!kid, mentions of vomit The one where Mr. D catches you two in the act, but you and him aren't exactly together yet. Everyone knows you two are together except the both of you, apparently. It’s hard to not run away from something good. (luke castellan x dionysus!reader)

a/n: happy first i love you to you and luke! yall are together now! crazy! thanks for being patient during my lil vacay :)) its been a little over a month since i started the trouble!verse!! ilysm

(posted 2/23 betad by my one and only @mrsaluado )

—

There’s something you’ve always loved about mornings.

Waking up with the first rays of light peeking through your window, the sun’s arms stretched around your sleepy frame pressing warm, featherlike kisses across the expanse of your back.

It almost feels real. 

Apollo must be feeling generous today, the heat of a warm breath brushing against your neck, and your alarm sounding an awful lot like soft snores. You ought to get up and close the blinds; it’s too damn bright. But your weighted blanket feels immensely heavier this morning as it envelopes your senses—smelling of citrus, musk, and a tangible dream of last night that seems to have stayed in bed with you. As soon as you try to untangle your legs from below the covers, warmth presses you deeper into the mattress with a…familiar sigh.

Your eyes pop open.

Quick and calculated, your eyes survey the surroundings of your room—the mop of licorice tresses nestled against the crook of your neck, both of your clothes scattered on the floor, as well as the alarm clock and a few other things knocked off your nightstand from Luke’s enthusiasm. The quiet of the morning is quickly disrupted when you hear two pairs of little hands pounding on your door, and for a moment you wonder if this is one of those hyper-realistic dreams that you don’t want to wake up from.

“Sissy! You missed breakfast,” Pollux bellows as Castor continues to slap his palms on the wood like a bongo drum.

The sheets start rustling as you squirm out of Luke’s grasp, bumping against the muscular ridges of his torso which brings him back to consciousness.

“Be out in a minute!” you slur against his shoulder, and he opens his eyes blearily at the sight of you sprawled over him to try to reach the alarm clock on the ground. As his eyes focus he can’t help but admire the planes of your body, soft and pretty in the morning light like a painting come to life. Waking up in one’s company has never felt more right, even with the usual chatter of campers wafting through the open window. Here in the swaddle of pink and purple sheets, you two are something singular—not camp counselors with jobs to do, not demigods wanting to achieve glory, just your Angelface and his Trouble. 

It’s intimate, even if it doesn’t have a label, him and you.

His large hand catches you at the plush of your tummy when you almost topple off the bed.

“Shit. Shit! They’re not kidding—Luke, it’s 9:30!”

You fling yourself upwards and off of him, clambering to find clothes from your dresser and tossing him his from the day prior. His belt buckle almost hits him in the eye and he groans, flinching as it smacks him in the cheek.

“Gods, woman. You think camp will crumble because you slept in for once?” 

The glare you throw in his direction is his answer, so Luke slowly tugs his pants on–though he quickly gets distracted by a half-dressed vision of you rummaging around your room.

“Castellan.”

He grins like a little kid in a candy store, and to that, you throw his shoe at him. 

Idiot. 

Too bad you’re in deep shit for sleeping in.

“SISSY!!!” 

“IN A FUCKING MINUTE, THING ONE AND TWO!” 

Screaming at the closed door as you throw some shorts on, you spin around and bump into Luke who’s already got his hands around your waist as his nose nudges the space between your jaw and your neck.

“You were supposed to leave before daybreak,” you sigh, a smile creeping onto your lips, “if you did as you were told, I wouldn’t have slept in.” Fake annoyance leaks through your voice though he knows it not to be true, he wouldn’t be able to latch onto you like this if you were. His nose continues to graze up towards your ear as he presses a kiss behind it—like how you both deal with your feelings and the truth nowadays, a hidden secret kept for both of your eyes only.

“Dunno Trouble…I can get used to waking up next to you,” he mumbles. You can feel the imprint of his smile searing into your skin.

Is this what going into cardiac arrest feels like? Genuine question.

You’ve both been sneaking around for the past few weeks, but neither of you has made anything official. They say it’s easier to fall for a friend rather than a stranger—to know someone so intimately (and now in more ways than one) should make falling the easy part. 

But that’s kind of the problem. 

Luke is your best friend—both knowing how the other feels from a single glance, so pray tell to all the gods on Olympus, why has this boy not asked you out yet? Whether this is all for fun or anything resembling a four-letter word that makes your brain go fuzzy, you think you’d rather swim in the Styx instead of putting yourself at a disadvantage. Love is scary, even if it’s Luke. 

Especially since it’s Luke.

His words make you stop in your tracks and you can hear your heart pounding in your ears, so you’re not dead… But the noise turns out to be one of the twins banging on the door again, and now you look like an asshole for taking too long to respond. Luke’s awkwardly looking at you now, tongue in cheek.

“Last warning,” one of your brothers teasingly croons, before the other continues, “Dad’s almost at the door! Your boyfriend’s gotta go or he’s dead…”

Your eyes widen in fear and Luke loosens his grip on your waist, unsure if you look like you’ve seen a ghost at the thought of him being called your boyfriend or the very real possibility of getting caught by your dad.

What a way to go, you two.

“Get out. You gotta go now, out the window!” 

You start pushing him towards the windowpane, your palms pressing against his marked-up and very bare back. 

Holy shit, he still doesn’t have a shirt and he looks like he got mauled by a hellhound. 

You can practically see the grapevines start to flourish outside your window. 

He’s too close for comfort, way too damn close, you think, but can’t reason if you mean Luke or your dad.

“Seriously?” 

He straddles the open window, and Luke doesn’t know what to feel about you pushing him away—it’s a feeling that’s foreign to him since he’s always by your side. 

“Sorry. I’ll make it up to you later angelface,” you mumble, pulling him in for a mind-numbing kiss that almost makes him slip off the rain gutter, and by the time you’ve already closed the window he realizes he’s shirtless in broad daylight, feet hopping off the siding of the cabin.

This couldn’t get any worse (oh but it does in a second), and you’re definitely the asshole this time around.

Your dad barges into your room by the time you throw a shirt on.

“Kid, what the hell? You sick?” 

Mr. D furrows his brows at the sight of you, face flushed as you simper up a lie about your head hurting. It’s weak for an excuse and even if you usually don’t have a tell—he’s the master of this game, so he pretends to not notice you chuck a shirt out the window when you open it to make it less stuffy. 

He raises an eyebrow in disapproval when you both notice your shirt is too big on you.

Oh, he’s onto you, applying heat like a brand to make his only daughter squirm; Mr. D peeks out the window to see a certain Luke Castellan stomping across the path wearing your cropped camp tee—and concludes that if there’s anyone in hot water right now, Luke must be drowning in it.

—

Acting natural is a bit harder for you today, and it feels like a cruel and unusual punishment worth the deepest pit of the Underworld as you scribble words onto a page that won’t even be comprehensible once you read them after this meeting is over. You’ve been catching up on work all day (also known as the impossible task of avoiding Luke) to show your dad you haven’t been slacking off. But a late start meant you fumbled through your day and it was obvious to everyone that you were off your game. Archery ran into javelin throwing, capture the flag teams weren’t ready and had to be made on the spot, there were no new shipments delivered to the camp store, and the infirmary ran out of ambrosia— which were all things that you were expected to coordinate.

Gods, you’re getting too old for this shit.

And if you, the head counselor everyone depends on, is off her game, well—everyone’s on edge. The Stolls even dared to ask you if the world was ending today and you were less than impressed.

Being in love sure feels like it is.

The only thing left to get through is this counselor’s meeting before the party tonight at Fireworks Beach, and you’ll damn yourself to Tartarus if you can’t even get that right. You’re a Dionysus kid, so partying is in your blood. Party planning is your favorite hobby, and to be real, you deserve a drink after today.

Speaking of your father, he’s jabbering on about something you find yourself not particularly interested in, but well…someone’s gotta listen. Charles is dozing off at the table, and Lee jabs him in the side. You see Silena braiding Clarisse’s hair out of the corner of your periphery. And of course, out of all of them, there’s Luke who’s been trying to steal your attention for the past 30 minutes. Black ink smears across the page as you find yourself having every thought that ends supplemented with the memory of how Luke looked at you as he climbed out of your window this morning.

Could he actually want more? 

The all-star camper, Luke Castellan— camp’s best soldier who’s envied by many and admired by all…wants to wake up next to you. You, the camp director’s daughter who keeps everyone in line and is seen more as authority instead of a person with feelings. You’re not always feared, but in a camp for demigod kids who’d rather hone their powers instead of lose special privileges for skipping class, you’re not exactly their favorite either. Once, someone said they’d rather face Mr. D instead of you.

“That doesn’t make sense, we’re supposed to send in the next progress report to Olympus before the last day of the month. That’s Wednesday, D. So it should be by the Sunday before,” you butt in after a statement your dad makes about scheduling. 

All eyes are on you now— it’s the first time you’ve spoken up during tonight’s meeting which was out of character in itself, but your father catches you off guard when the sound of his booming laughter spreads across the room like dynamite tearing through a battlefield.

“Says who? We’ve got enough time,” The god remarks, a strange sheen in his eyes that reflects into yours. He’s on your ass a bit more today, pointing out your flaws from the day and making it his mission to get on your nerves. Few mortals would undermine a god, and though you do it daily to spite him for your existence, your confidence is lower today than it usually is—the reason being a boy with amber eyes boring into your soul from across the table. Everything else pales in comparison now, almost fading into the background, and even here in the hot seat you can’t help but think about if Luke could ever fall for someone like you.

You’re venturing into dangerous territory, you tell yourself, you’ve been hurt before.

It hurts less somehow when you’re cautious. To prepare oneself to be hurt is a defense mechanism ingrained in you—your mom raised you to always be ready for anything. Your self-identity has always been skewed by others’ perceptions. Mirroring the memory of your late mother’s ideals, exemplifying your actions through your immortal father’s personality, you find that fighting your bloodline is one of the most difficult things to come to terms with. A thought passes in your brain that you’ve taken after the worst of them—your mother’s ambition and your father’s unpredictability. 

And who would want to love someone so difficult? 

Tough love is the only way you know how to love. Perhaps someone as good as Luke deserves better than this.

“It’ll be less to worry about that way,” you swallow, and the other counselors sit back in their seats as tension fills the air, signaling another disagreement about to start between your father and you.

“Good thing you don’t have to worry about it since it’s my job, right, kid? Just because you woke up on the wrong side of the bed today doesn’t mean you can change things to better fit your schedule instead of the rest of ours.”

Mr. D scowls, and then again maybe you’re too much like your father—too brash, too mouthy, and self-serving, and your eyes meet Luke’s again as your mouth pulls into a bitter smile.

“It’s the first and last time it’ll ever happen. Gods know I don’t get sick days around here picking up after you,” you spit out harshly, words coming out like acid.

“Just saying kid. Haven’t seen you this careless in years— Maybe check yourself before telling us what to do, yeah?”

Your father’s words have a double meaning as he stares into your soul, glancing between you and Luke, who is none the wiser, still focused on you. Annabeth is holding his hand under the table as you watch his jaw flex. He can see right through the shoddy performance you put on of having it all together.

Does everyone know? 

Your lips pucker as you roll your neck from locking, and a humorless laugh slips from you. Everyone else’s eyes are on Luke, who looks like he’s about to jump across the table and wring a god’s neck. 

Fuck. 

“Whatever. I’m not doing this today,” you grumble, feeling overwhelmed. The chair screeches against the wood of the floor as you push yourself up, fists stained with ink and clenched in teenage angst as you walk to the door to make a quick escape. 

Your father crosses his arms smugly at the success of getting under your skin, and the last words you hear as you leave are, “You never want to hear the truth, kid. Must you always be so…. you?”

Your steps falter for a moment, feeling heavier knowing he’s right so you let go of the door to let it slam it behind you. There’s a commotion inside after you leave but you couldn’t be bothered to give a damn.

It’s time to party and you’re sure as hell getting drunk, high, or both tonight.

—

It takes about two cups of wine for the inebriation to start kicking into Luke’s system. He’d never been much of a drinker, but with the way you’re throwing your head back at Lee’s jokes as he plays the guitar, he thinks he should drink a bit more to forget the fear in your eyes this morning and how Lee keeps touching your waist.

He’s been suspended from counselor duties for the rest of the month for mouthing off at Mr. D in your defense, and even if Annabeth tells him he’s lucky to have not met a worse fate, the way things played out today makes him feel like the most unlucky guy at camp. Fuck the gods, or at least…fuck your dads (that doesn’t sound right, but he’s too busy watching the moonlight glint against your skin that whatever his ex is whispering next to him goes in one ear and out the other). 

“Lukey?” Skye mumbles against his neck, “I miss you…you’re always busy doing who knows what!”

Well… you have a name, Luke thinks, taking a big gulp of whatever’s left in his cup as his eyes follow you across the beach. You’re dancing around the bonfire spinning a tipsy Clarisse who laughs without a care in the world. He thinks you’re the best of your parents—determined to achieve your goals, selfless when it comes to others’ needs, and passionate about what you want. Mr. D will never get to see this side of you—the one you show your friends and this place you all call home. He’ll never be deserving of the work you put into Camp Half-Blood (and to some extent, Luke knows he doesn’t deserve you either).

A dejected sigh brushes warm air against his shoulder.

“You know, Castellan. I wish I met you first,” the blond daughter of Athena slurs with tears forming in her eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

“The two of you have always… it’s always been you and her. Even if you both don’t want to admit it. It’s not fair,” she hiccups. Luke pulls the cup out of his ex-lover’s hand and she shakes her head.

“Skye, you’re drunk. I’ll take you back to 6.”

“You really don’t see it do you?” Her hands grapple onto Luke’s shirt like she’s pulling him down and pleading for him to understand.

“That girl is in love with you. The both of you are meant for each other—and you’re both spending too much time trying to fight fate. The rest of us aren’t as lucky, but we sure as hell aren’t stupid.”

There’s a moment of clarity that hits as he looks into Skye’s eyes, and he scratches the back of his neck.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I meant what I said when we broke up a few years ago. You’re both always looking for each other, even if you don’t know it. Just meet in the middle already, for gods’ sake…I’ll be okay,” she sighs, sitting up on the log they were resting on. 

“Your girlfriend is sure as hell to give me a hangover worth her title of being Dionysus’ kid in the morning anyways,” she mutters, kissing Luke on his cheek as a farewell. But out of all of the things to catch your attention that night, Luke’s blush glows in the light of the fire, and he watches you frown and stomp off toward the forest.

For being the son of the god of luck, his dad really won’t give him a break.

It didn’t help that Skye suddenly started projectile vomiting seconds after you left (off of her only cup of wine; wonder how that happened).

—

Luke fights through his growing intoxication on the walk back towards the cabins, but boy are you difficult when you’re angry—you’ve always had a profound effect on his being, even more so with your powers. He makes a wrong turn somewhere through the woods, completely missing the cabins, which he doesn’t realize until he stumbles across the path leading to the Big House. When his eyes focus, he spots Mr. D sipping on a glass as he leans on the railing of the front porch. Be calm and don’t act drunk, Luke tells himself, but all of his concentration goes into not swaying in front of the god of wine that he can’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth.

“Good evening, um…sir.”

“Kid, it’s 3 in the morning. What the hell are you doing here? Gods know it’s not my window you’re trying to climb up. You’re a bit of a ways off.”

Now what the fuck was he supposed to say to that?

Luke freezes in his spot (in reality he bumps into the first wooden step and sticks a hand out to steady himself against the railing).

“Are you drunk?”

Mr. D looks at him knowingly like it’s almost funny to him, eyebrows furrowed and head quirked like he can sniff it off of him. He probably can, now that Luke thinks really hard about it.

“I’m not gonna answer that because I think you know the answer already,” the son of Hermes words carefully, but nothing smart can come of this. It’s like playing chess with checkers, and Dionysus of all gods would know—no breathalyzer needed.

There’s a beat of silence, before Mr. D says, “I’m gonna give you another chance to–”

“Yes, I’m drunk, but it’s not Trouble’s fault—it’s mine!” he blabbers, walking closer to your father. 

“She’s mad at me for defending her from you earlier besides the fact I act stupid around her and I only had a few cups, I swear, but she’s…your daughter is…extraordinary.”

“What?”

“Your daughter makes me feel drunk, sir. Even without the wine. I don’t know what to do with myself, just please don’t get mad at her. She has a lot more to lose…” He feels pathetic in all sense of the word, rubbing at his eyes until Mr. D snaps his fingers and the alcohol blanket lifts from his senses. Like a bucket of cold water splashed onto his spine, Luke is suddenly very awake, and all too embarrassed for the waterfall of words he’s told your father.

“Oh.”

“I didn’t know she knew how to do that yet. She’s learning quickly.” Mr. D looks out into the distance, the dim light of the cabins acting like a beacon of light in the middle of the campgrounds.

Luke wrings his hands, picking at his thumbs and he’s sure he’s about to get kicked out of camp for his behavior, much less the fact that he’s been fraternizing with the director’s daughter.

“Sometimes I think she knows too much.” He licks his lips, awkwardly standing next to the god and wondering if the dark liquid in his cup is wine.

“Do you think I don’t know that, Luke? Do you really think I don’t know about the parties? I let her have her fun too you know— I'm the one that keeps Chiron asleep. She doesn’t ask for much. I know I give her a hard time. I’m just….” 

There are a few things about Mr. D’s statement that surprise Luke: the fact that he actually knows his name, how he safeguards his daughter’s interests, and the possibility of a god actually knowing how to be a good parent. 

It still doesn’t take away from the countless times he’s seen you put yourself down because of your father, the inadequacy you feel from the responsibilities you take on, and how you’d do anything for simple applause. Tough love is still love with a heavy hand. And it leaves bruises, whether he meant it or not.

“Is that why you’ve never sent her on an actual quest? We all know picking up the twins doesn’t count in the grand scheme of things.”

“For what? To achieve glory? Recognition? I never understood why we Olympians do that. Send children off to their deaths to deserve a moment of their godrent’s time, or a gift to shut them up. I don’t need her to be a hero, she doesn’t have anything she needs to prove to me. I need her to be my daughter, and preferably alive. That’s enough for me.”

Luke takes a step back in disbelief. There’s something in his being that yearns to be loved like that, without having to prove it or needing to deserve it. It hurts almost, the way he wants to be loved like your family loves you. Your father, an Olympian, standing in front of him telling him that your existence is enough to be worthy of his presence. In the silence that follows, Luke wonders if he’ll ever have that.

“You should tell her that more often, sir.”

“Listen. She’s a good kid, I just give her a hard time because it’s hard to get attached to you mortals. Your lives are so short compared to the infinite timeline I live. I can do everything in my power to try to keep her safe, but I can’t stop her from leaving. So don’t blame me if I act needy if it’ll keep her here for a bit longer. I’ll take all the time I can get.”

“Then how do I tell her I love her with without either of us running away?”

Mr. D laughs loudly now, his wrinkles crinkling as liquid sloshes out of his cup. It turns out to be grape juice you left out for him before the party.

“Mortals always busy themselves with trivial things, like pride and sorrow. Pandora’s box left you humans with nothing but hope. I say you swallow the negative and just say it how it is. You’ll have a lot more time being happier together that way. I already lost my bet against some of the counselors anyway.”

“What bet?”

Your dad swats at Luke like he’s a dog to kick, and tosses his glass over his shoulder where it disappears in the night air.

“Get off my porch Castellan, and just know if you hurt her…” 

“I’d die before that happens, sir.”

“That would hurt her most of all. Think about what that means. For gods’ sake she’s left her light on for you, so go on before I set the harpies on you. And don’t call me sir, it freaks me out. You’re still not special to me.” Mr. D stalks back inside the Big House, and Luke takes that as his cue to leave. The cold night air pushes him back towards the cabins, the light in your window luring him in like a ship lost at sea.

—

“I know you’re still awake, Trouble.”

You hear him move closer to the bed as you keep your eyes shut, evening out your breaths, but you’re never able to hide anything from Luke anymore.

“I thought I closed that window,” you mumble, turning your face more towards your pillow.

“You didn’t.”

Of course, you didn’t. You were hoping he’d chase after you this time around, even if you made him drunk in more ways than one.

“Skye keep you busy?” you say nonchalantly, and you hear Luke laugh as he tugs your duvet off of you.

“Your dad did, actually,” he says grinning, watching your eyes pop open in confusion as you turn and face him, propping yourself up on your knees.

“What the fuck?”

“You could’ve gotten me kicked out y’know? Stumbled onto his porch telling him about how drunk you make me feel even without a drop of alcohol and how I don’t know what the fuck to do with myself when I’m around you.”

“You shouldn’t be so brave to fight gods like that for me. Even if it’s my dad, Castellan,” you whisper, and he kneels next to your bed so he can look at you in the eyes from an equal standpoint. Because that’s what the two of you are— equal, singular, one and the same. And he’s never made you feel less than, even if your brain tries to convince you of it.

“Stop that,” he scoffs, shaking his head as he grabs your hands, “stop calling me my last name like it detaches you from how you feel about me. I want you to stop pretending when it's just you and me,” he pleads, whispering your name so softly that the sound of it brushes against your lips.

There’s something more intimate in the way he looks at you now compared to when you were naked and nestled against him this past morning. The act of knowing that it’s you and him, no matter how hard you try to fight it.

His knuckle brushes against your jaw, pushing your eyes to look back into his, and you can’t deny him any longer.

“Hey. I love you, and I know you feel the same; I'm tired of you acting like you're not and I’m going crazy he—”

His words are halted by your lips surging forward to meet him in the middle. The culmination of years of friendship has brought you to this special moment frozen in time, and sure, demigods die young but this must be what he’ll see in Elysium. If there’s a single memory he can bring with him to his next life, he hopes it’s this one—the taste of you and how it feels to be loved like this, without question or reason. You pull away with a sweet smile and he feels drunk again.

“You’re my best friend, Angelface,” you mumble.

Okay, now that sobered him up faster than it should have.

Luke stiffens, his hands falling to your thighs as he starts to ramble, “If you’re actually friendzoning me right now I might just roll out of your window and feed myself to a harpy.”

The laugh that comes out of you booms across the room as you wrap your arms around him with a radiant smile. You always have so much to say, but right now only three words come to mind. Five vowels, three consonants, and the gravity of it pushes out of your mouth like there’s no better truth to tell.

“I love you. I think I’ve been in love with you even before I liked you and I’m sorry I’ve been too scared to say it. I’m not used to…”

Luke sighs in relief, as he presses his scarred cheek against your shoulder. 

“You think I’m not scared of us either, Trouble? I worship the ground you walk on, and everyone can see that.”

“Well I’m not a god, Luke,” you say tugging him up by his mop of curls as your legs wrap around him.

“Sometimes when I’m with you, I think you’re the closest thing to it,” he whispers, pulling your chin down for another kiss until you both get your fill. He thinks he can kiss you forever until the end of your short lives, until it’s senseless and maddening, like falling into a drunken stupor. Loving you is an experience he’ll never be able to rid himself of, heart stained with the best of you until both your fingertips are red and raw with the feeling.

You pull him back into your bed as your giggles fill the early morning air. He’s quickly becoming what you love most about waking up in the morning.

—

Chris Rodriguez wakes up to the sound of the morning birds and chattering children in the busy cabin 11. As he rubs at his eyes, ready to take on the day as an interim cabin counselor for the rest of the month because of Luke’s suspension, sunlight falls onto the one empty bunk in the corner of the room (Fact: There is never an empty bed in the Hermes cabin. Also a fact: he and Chiron will be able to cash in against the other counselors as fast as his feet can take him to the Big House).

—

“To love someone is firstly to confess; I’m prepared to be devastated by you.” Billy Ray Belcourt

ask to be added to luke/general taglists!

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

[https-kreideprinz]

I wish that I knew, what makes you think I'm so special !

Frank Zhang x GN! Reader

. . . Now playing: Love Like You by Steven Universe (feat. Rebecca Sugar)! . .

A/N: *cough cough* erm frank Zhang x reader where he is being a lil bit insecure about like his size and tummy but reader comforts him bc he's perfect and everything that they ever wanted. (Please there is like no frank fics I'm dying)

Notes: girly pop is STARVING. i gotchu its Frank time!! I've said this a million times but it's been four years since I've read this silly books so there will be things I will need tto fix. Please leave a comment if you notice something wrong, I'll fix it.

CW: Self depricating thoughts. Mentions of insecurites. Reader discretion is advised.

ׂׂૢ Frank Zhang

Frank stood at the mirror, a frown on his lips as he stared at what he saw in the reflection. He pinched his sides and let out a frustrated sigh, why couldn’t he look like Jason? Or Percy – or heck even Leo? With proper bodies, worthy of being considered a demigod child.

No wonder they were all so powerful.

And so respected.

And here he was.

A son of Mars nonetheless, which in it of itself, was nothing to scoff at, but has any son of Mars ever looked this… pathetic? Pitiful? What was another synonym for downright disgusting?

Frank chewed his lip and sighed. He would never be good enough. Not to lead the Roman Legions. Not good enough for the Gods. Not good enough for Mars.

Not good enough for himself.

Frank would never be good enough for himself.

And it was - he pinched the flesh at his arms – all – he clawed at the fat from his thighs – his ugly – tears welled in his eyes as he grabbed and pulled at himself – his stupid- fucking- body’s fault.

It was all his body’s fault.

He hated himself.

Frank hated the way he looked.

He hated it. He hated it. He hated-

“Frank?” Your voice came out in a tired whisper as you slid out of bed, the morning sun – courtesy of Apollo bathed your body in a soft gold – made you look stunning as usual. Frank rubbed his arms, ignoring the way his skin was now red and irritated from all the pinching and scratching. Your soft steps padded as you walked down to meet your boyfriend in front of the mirror. “What’s wrong…” You whispered, cupping his cheeks and pulling him into a soft embrace. When you buried your face against his soft chest the tears that had welled in his eyes began to stream down his cheeks.

Frank choked out a sob, pulling you closer as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. “How do you not… find me gross?” He managed to get out in between gulps of air, and he pulled away to look you in the eyes, which turned out to be a mistake, since the moment he saw nothing but pure unadulterated love in your eyes, he merely broke down once more.

You carefully rubbed his back, stepping back and leading him back to bed. “Hey… hey… its ok… talk to me… What’s wrong?” You asked, keeping your voice soft and warm. Trying to get him to open up to you about his struggles. Frank sniffed, wiping his eyes and looked up at you. “You… promise not to be angry at me?” He whispered and you simply shook your head. “I promise not to be angry at you Frank. In fact, it would make me really happy if you told me what was bothering you in the first place.” You urged him slightly, running a hand through his fluffy hair.

You always did marvel at the way he managed to keep his hair so soft.

Frank took a deep breath and began, slowly telling you about how he had always struggled with the way he looked. From his body to the way he went unclaimed for a long time, to the expectations his family laid upon him, it was like no matter what he did, no-one would ever like him for him. And after he let out a shuddered sigh and wiped his eyes, he buried his face in the blanket sheets. “Why do you like me…? I mean… Why do you like me in the first place? I’m not strong like Percy or Jason… Piper’s pretty… Leo’s funny… and I’m…”

“None of those things.”

“All of those things.”

Frank froze. Did you really think so? He was all of those things?

You card your hand through his hand once more. “To me... you’re perfect.” You whispered, making Frank flush. “Tell me… show me… please…” His voice came out in a small strain.

“Show me how much you love me."

Taglist: @thementallyunwellapollochild, @apollos-coolest-child, @too-queer-for-school, @chaotic-child-of-apollo, @vintage-wanderers

© Written By https-Kreideprinz. Do not copy, steal or translate without permission.

[sailor-aviator]

Omygoodness! What happens when Jake and Scout wake up from that short nap? They are so cute, Ican'teven!

I am SO glad you asked!

-

You woke slowly, head heavy from your impromptu nap. You nuzzled your face into the warmth that surrounded you, feeling the surface beneath you shake lightly as a low chuckle reached your ears.

"That's fine, pretty girl. I don't have anywhere else more important to be than right here."

A hand rested on your head, slowly stroking your hair.

"You know," Jake continued softly, "I never thought much about marriage before I met you. Never thought I'd meet a girl who'd make me want it enough. But then you strolled into town, and I knew."

He huffed out a laugh.

"I knew from the moment I met you that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Knew I'd move heaven and earth if it gave me even a small chance at stayin' by your side."

He sighed, kissing the top of your head.

"I dream about it all the time, you know," he mused. "Dream about building you a nice, big house that we can grow old in. Dream about how cute you'd look waddlin' around the house with our baby in your tummy. Dream about how we'd look, old and grey as we sit on the porch and watch the grandbabyies runnin' around the yard."

He breathed in the top of your head, dropping his cheek to rest there.

"I think about what it would be like to hold you in my arms just like this for the rest of my life. I think about what it would be like for you to smile at me the way you do at everyone else. You look so pretty when you smile, you know? I think about what it would be like to kiss you after you lose that damn temper of yours. I just think about you, Scout. My heart hurts from how bad I want all of it with you."

You stirred at that, and Jake moved so that you could pull back.

"Jake?" you asked, rubbing at your eyes. He gave you a soft, warm smile.

"Hey there, darlin'," he murmured. "You sleep good?"

"I slept fine," you answered groggily, fixing him with a still sleepy glare. "What were you doing up here napping?"

"Coyotes were out last night," he answered. "Was up all night makin' sure they stayed away from cattle and chicken coop."

"Oh," you said, blinking yourself into more awakened state. "You didn't have to do that."

"I work here, don't I?" he grins with a shrug. You rolled your eyes, and moved to stand up. Jake got to his feet quicker than you did, and offered you his hand. You gave him a small smile in thanks as he helped you up off the ground.

"Let's go," you said, turning to face him, your breath catching in your throat. The setting sun casted a warm glow around him, alighting his features as he stared at you. You thought in that moment that this must have been what the Greeks imagined the god Apollo to look like.

"Everything alright?" he asked you, furrowing his brows. You nodded slowly, forcing yourself to look away.

"Yes," you whispered. You cleared your throat.

"Yes," you said, more firmly this time. "We should go. It's almost supper time."

"As you wish," he smiled, gesturing for you to go down the ladder first. And as the two of you walked out of the barn and back towards the house, you couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to walk with him by your side for the rest of your life.

[jadelynlace]

Ivar & Children Part III ⎮Ink Drinker Modern Vikings AU One-Shot [Ivar x F!Reader]

find the series masterpost here.

author’s note: much like what this holiday represents, we’re having the re-birth of Ink Drinker. yes, that sounded much better in my head. 

content warnings: medical jargon, children getting hurt, Ivar and children

word count: 1000+ words

You recognize the address as soon as the report sings from the radio. Despite the nature of the call, you’re worried it’s actually Floki who has injured himself and not his son—and in the confusion the child called for the emergency response. 

When you step into Floki’s home, Hvitserk is right on your six and you’re scanning for evidence of trauma that doesn’t seem to exist. Instead, Helga’s holding their youngest son, Apollo who has just reached his second birthday last week—your mind recalls the quick image of Ivar dancing with him to celebrate before he blows out his birthday candles. Apollo shirt was torn off in a rush and his chest is red—ruby red and you already know.

“I didn’t know he could reach the counter,” Helga nearly cries softly. “Next thing I knew he was wearing my tea,” She adds. “The pediatrician—”

“She told us to take him to the emergency room,” Floki says for her. “I knew this would be faster once I realized who was at work today,” He finishes, winking at you. 

Apollo screams when your chief attempts to take a closer look at the burn.

“Let me try—coordinate with medical control, you know what’s going to happen,” You say.

“When did you become my boss?” He teases.

“When you hired me,” You joke back. “Apollo—it’s me, baby,” You say softly while you pull your mask down. “It’s Miss Y/N,” And the familiar voice calls the boy to calm slightly in your presence. “We’re just going to take a look at you tummy, Mommy and Daddy aren’t going anywhere, alright?”

“Floki, can you pack up some of his things?” Hvitserk asks. “I’ll pull vitals,”

“Do a manual heart rate,” You start, “On his back, there’s no room for it on his chest it’s too burnt—he’s not allergic to anything that you know of, Helga?” You ask and she nods. 

“This is going to give your arm a real tight hug, alright?” Hvitserk says as he attaches the pediatric cuff. “Do you want to try to squeeze my hand just as hard? He then offers, holding up a gloved hand. Apollo reaches out quickly, grabbing the first two fingers and barrels down, despite the soft grip Hvitserk lets out a huff of improvised impression. “You’re a strong little man!”

“Breathing rate is high,” You mumble.

“Mine would be too!” Hvitserk says, “It’s scary when you hurt yourself. We have 110 on 72,”

“Little high, too,” You say. “Can you walk me through what happened, Helga?”

“I had my back turned just to grab the sugar—I didn’t even know he was able to reach that high and I had just taken the kettle off and poured a cup…next thing I knew he started screaming and I—I took his shirt right off,”

“He didn’t lose consciousness?”

“No, he just started screaming,”

“Nothing in his diaper?”

“No, that was the first place I looked too—it just got on his chest and on his one wrist—oh sweetheart I’m so sorry I should have known better—”

“Helga these things happen to all parents, this is how we learn,” Hvitserk says.

“Helga,” You start, “There’s not much we’re going to be able to do from our end. We can give him pain medication but he’s going to have to be air lifted to a burn center,” You say firmly. “Now, they’re going to put him in a burn dressing—for someone his age it’ll likely be a silver sulfadiazine suit or a biobrane dressing. From what I can see, it looks like a partial thickness burn, which is what we would prefer over a full thickness,”

“Phoenix is still in school—how far is the center?” Helga asks.

“A few hours away,” You start. “I’ll call Ivar,”

“Thank you,” She says to you. “I can’t think straight right now,” 

*

When Ivar knocks on the door to the classroom, he’s greeted with the warm smile from Phoenix school teacher.

“His father called you?” Ivar asks.

“He did, Phoenix has not stopped talking about it since we told him,”

“Mr. Ivar!” Phoenix beckons. “It’s Mr. Ivar,” He says proudly to his teacher. Ivar kneels to his height before speaking:

“How about you and I go get something to eat?” Ivar suggests.

“Tacos?” The child requests.

“A man wise beyond his years,” Ivar hums, lifting Phoenix’s backpack onto his shoulder.

*

Ivar waits. In doing so, he watches the child before him inhale one taco after the other. He can hardly see Phoenix chewing. Finally, as his mouth slows, he peeks up at Ivar through eyes that match Floki’s perfectly.

“What did you do today, Mr. Ivar?” “Did you go to work?”

“No, no, I was off today. I talked to Y/N, and I talked to your mommy and daddy about Apollo,”

“Why?” Phoenix asks, Ivar takes in a breath and mentally prepares himself.

“Little brother got hurt, he’s with mommy and daddy at the doctors,”

“I hurted myself on my bike the other day,” 

“Yes, I remember, and what happened?” Ivar asks.

“My knee was all red,”

“Little brother hurt himself with Mama’s tea. Remember how mama likes her tea each morning? And how Mr. Ivar drinks his coffee, and so does Y/N?”

“Daddy says Miss Y/N drinks coffee like it’s ‘going out of style’,” Phoenix replies, air quotes and all—it makes Ivar snort.

“Yes, well Apollo got the hot tea on himself, and on his chest. Do you know where your chest is?"

“Right here!”Phoenix replies. “And, here is my heart—mama says that’s where kindness comes from,”

“Mama’s right,” Ivar starts. “Now, do you remember when Mr. Ivar was at the doctor’s office after he hurt his legs?”

“Daddy said not to touch them,”

“That’s what it’s going to be like for Apollo—we have to make sure we don’t touch where he hurt himself because it’s going to be sore—just like your knee when you fell off your bike. Now, I was thinking maybe we could draw a picture for little brother, so he can feel better when he’s home?”

“Mr. Ivar?”

“Yes, little man?”

“Is Apollo going to be alright?”

“He’s going to be just fine—Miss Y/N and Mr. Hvitty made sure of it,”

“He got to go in the am-bu-wance?” Phoenix gasps. “I went in one when we saw them at the school!” 

“He did,” Ivar replies, leaving out the part where he was also air lifted in the helicopter, because he knows that Phoenix will be asking you for that for the next year once he finds out. 

As Phoenix makes sure to leave no crumb behind, Ivar peaks down at his phone to see your message:

All set at the hospital, see you tonight xo

“Ready for the art store?” Ivar asks.

“Can we get a taco to go, for later?” Phoenix asks.

Tags:

@smileysam13579  @dreamtherapy @angelofthenightposts @unbetaedimagines  @readsalot73 @queen-sarang   @anastasiaskarsgard @andmyannabellee  @peachyboneless @heavenly1927 @prettyinpayne @quantumlocked310 @xbellaxcarolinax @mighty-ragnarssons @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom @queen-of-upshur @nanahachikyuu @fandomlifeandeverythingelse @fatedwithmbc​  @hashimily​ @youbloodymadgenius​ @love-all-things-writing​  @theanxietyqueen17​ @trip2themoon​ @tgrrose​ @synnersaint​ @kataphine​ @prepare4trouble​ @abbiii72​ @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog​ @93xdiagonxalley​ @ivarisms​ @nordicshieldmadien @ironynoticony​  @ivarsgard​ @cosmicmerbabe​ @smears-and-spots​ @kaybee87​ @t4medicroe​ @noway4u​ @southernbe​ @anakindoesntlikesand​ @mymindfuckery​

*please message me to let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. specifications for series/etc. are also welcomed, as well as feedback.*

full masterlist can be found here.

[malewifeklaviergavin]

for kiss (touches ask game) - 40 or 19 for klapollo?

(kisses: tummy kisses)

There were few things nicer, Klavier mused, than resting his head on Apollo's lap. It was a perfect headrest if he was honest; warm, soft, cozy, and came with the added benefit of tummy nuzzles and hair stroking.

Maybe cats were onto something, what with the whole 'your lap is my favourite seat' thing.

It wasn't even anything special. He and Apollo were on the couch, his boyfriend reading a legal brief (for fun, what a freak) over his head while Klavier dozed, head in lap. It was just a lazy Sunday, the kind of days that usually made Klavier anxious. Historically, he was always so busy that a quiet day in meant something had gone horribly wrong with his schedule. Now however, it wasn't uncommon for Apollo to demand a whole day booked off so they could decompress from their busy lives.

Sleepily, Klavier turned his head so his face was pressed up against Apollo's stomach. The fabric of Apollo's t shirt was soft against his skin, and he could feel the slight pudge underneath. Apollo had always been so skinny, between a lack of money for proper food and working himself to the bone. It was a quiet point of pride that Klavier had managed to get some meat on his boyfriend's bones. Never be said that cooking classes were a waste of time for a (at the time) bachelor.

Klavier's eyes slid shut and he pressed a gentle kiss to Apollo's stomach through his shirt. Then another. Then another, until he could feel Apollo shifting. "That tickles." He grumbled, faux annoyed even as he freed one hand up to play with Klavier's hair.

"Gut. You have such a lovely laugh." Klavier replied, voice muffled. Discreetly, he inched a hand towards Apollo and, fast as lighting, pulled his shirt up enough for him to blow a truly awe inspiring raspberry on his boyfriend's skin.

Apollo squawked and dropped his papers onto the couch beside them. Before he could pry himself free from Klavier, he found himself wrapped in a cuddle/death grip as Klavier continued blow raspberries and drop kisses on his stomach.

"Klavier!" Apollo squealed. Grinning, Klavier placed one last kiss right next to Apollo's belly button before letting himself get shoved away. "You dick! That tickles, you asshole. Plus you made me lose my place."

Klavier simply batted his eyelashes, looking up at Apollo with what he was sure was probably a very sappy expression. "I'm very sorry." He apologized, releasing his grip from around Apollo's waist and settling his head back into his lap.

Apollo sighed and picked his brief up again, once more letting his one hand drift down to Klavier's hair. "No you're not."

"Nein," Klavier agreed, snuggling closer to Apollo's stomach. "I'm really not."

[youth-and-roses]

The Gay Post (1/2)

This a post about how cute and domestic can be two gay gods and their family

Let’s get started on how they meet each other. So at certain point of his life, Quetzalcoatl comes out to his dad as a transgender male, and like a good Patriarch, Ometeotl gets mad and tells his son “The only way I recognize you as a male is getting married and having a family”.

so Quetz’ gay smart ass starts looking for a husband, after all, he still has a vagina, and he can use it to attract males and having kids (Tatianna’s voice: Choices) so Quetz goes to meet the gayest man on earth, Xochipilli, and asks him “Is there any gay male who would want to marry me, regardless of my sex?” Xochipilli gives him a big ass list of gay dudes who would like to give him some love.

In the middle of searching for one of those gays, he accidentaly encounters Ra, the sun god who is looking for a consort, Quetz ain’t dumb and asks the man something simple “Would you date a boy regardless of what’s between his legs?” Ra chuckles, and now Quetz doesn’t know how to feel about it, to prove him right, Ra takes him to a date, Ra shows his boy different types of animals all over the world, shows him thousands of writings, and millions of paintings and he is just so happy he could destroy Ra’s face with his lips.

it takes the sun god a couple of dates before they fall for each other, Ra courts his boyfriend with the help of Tezcatlipoca, who gives him the necessary information to make his shitty little brother’s gay heart happy, when the courting ends, Ra requests Quetz’ hand in marriage, Ometeotl is way less powerful than Ra, he lets his son get married and recognizes him as a male.

their first little demon:

After Thot and Sekhmet were born from Ra’s unknown first wife, all of other gremlins came out of Quetz, the first one to being born was Sobek, the tiny little cocodrile god came out as an egg instead of a normal child, but luckily, after three hours of being examinated by Taweret, Sobek came out of his egg as a cute baby cocodrile, human body and cocodrile head, it took his parents three months to teach him how to turn into full baby. He had a humongous love for bodies of water and lived his life in the water, his daddy taught how to swim in different positions, so he could increase his fun in water.

the second place Sobek was most of his time was training with his father, and the third was his daddy’s lap, he even let his hair grow so his daddy could braid it, when he was a teenager he developed depression, but thanks to meds made by his brother Thot and that Apollo dude, he managed to get better.

Then Bastet and Hathor are born.

it’s their first set of twins so they are really happwhey, but Sobek is extremely nervous, he doesn’t sit in his daddy’s lap because “What if I kill them? What if I crush them? I don’t want to do that daddy”, Quetz is amazed by his little one year old’s thinking, later, with the help of a young Thot, they teach Sobek that he can crush his sisters by sitting in his daddy’s lap or putting his ear on his daddy’s tummy, Sobek is relieved.

Ra is excited to have more girls, after all, his first daughter is a warrior that has no shit to talk with those losers unless they are smart and stronger than her, no boy is stronger than her, so Sekhmet just look for a dude as smart as Thot, R ais thinking about all the names he can give to his little girls, plus he is going to have two! two girls! so he is more excited day by day, so excited that sometimes he can’t fall asleep.

Bastet is born like a tiny kitten and hathor is born like a baby human size little cow, it takes Taweret four hours with each girl to make them more human, both sisters keep their animal ears.

Hathor is kind and warm, loves her father a lot, and mostly of the time she is at his lap, watching how he does his work, she obviously loves his daddy, but her father has something special for her, and so does Bastet, she also prefers having most of her time occupied for her father, but at night she sleeps on her daddy’s side, he is more warm and comfy, her father is too hard and is like sleeping on a rock, but daddy has more fat to put her head on and hide herself there, Hathor also sleeps with her daddy, because he is more chubby and soft.

Maat is born asleep, and since then, she became one of Ra’s favorite kids, even if he doesn’t accept it, she sleeps a looot, and mostly of the time she does it, it’s at her daddy’s chest, Sobek, who is already eight, tries to convice his sisters, that babies are tiny and they need caring an attention and that’s why their parents are mor ebusy with their little sister. the girls seem forced to understand.

Maat is a book worm just like her parents and brother, she is the first ever lawyer and helps her father create the book of Ra, all the laws that reign the universe.

Jonsu wasn’t planned.

one day, Quetz period never came, and he strated to get worried, he was puking, no period and when they asked Taweret, she answered “My lord you are pregnant” they didn’t spend their time looking where did it went wrong while having sex, they embrace the fact that tehy are having a new kid, it’s not much of  abiggie of rthe older siblings, Sobek and Bastet  use most of their tiem hanging out with Set at the city or training with their father, Maat it’s too busy with the laws system of the gods, Thot already has his own wife and teaches the youth about everything, Hathor flirting game with Horus is getting more real, Sekhmet has a husband and a kid.

Jonsu has parents for all the time he wants, and he is the first one with favoritism toward his daddy! Jonsu loves math, watching the night sky with his daddy, playing all types of game to make his mind more fast, loves hearing his parents flirt, especially his father’s horrible pick up lines, so hideous that they work, and his dad’s smart and sassy flirting, the way he makes he makes Ra laugh and the way Ra makes him laugh.

Jonsu could live just watching them, his only dream is having a relationship as healthy and cute as his parents’.

[demiboypercyjackson]

Please consider: trans will freaking out and giving a younger camper a long lecture after they come into the infirmary with bruised/cracked ribs from binding with ace bandages and after that incident you can get free binders at the infirmary if you need it

Will Solace had seen a lot of things in his days as head medic of Camp Half Blood, head surgeon on the battlefield, and head counselor of the Apollo cabin. A lot of those things had scared him, had scarred him, and had left him gasping for breath afterwards, waking from night terrors that shook him awake to stare at the moon as if asking for guidance. Most of these things included the sinew-y stubs of missing limbs, bloodied wounds left by claws and teeth, or insides that were, decidedly, no longer insides; things like that. There were other things, too, that shook him - these for an entirely different reason.

There were other things, too, that hit far too close to home.

To set the scene: it was a relatively quiet day. There hadn’t been any new campers for a few weeks now, so there were less newbies getting injured trying to “climb the totem pole” and impress people. No one had come back from any quests recently and likely wouldn’t for a week yet at least. There’d only been a handful minor injuries so far for the day. Younger campers coming in with scratched knees or aching tummies had been the most of Will’s worries for the majority of the morning and he was rather glad for it.

At least, until Mateo Herrera came into the infirmary.

Now, Mateo; he was a good kid. Mateo, in fact, was a very good kid and very rarely ended up in the infirmary. Mostly, Will knew him from the few times Austin could manage to drag his older brother to his music classes. Mateo played the trombone and was very good at it for a beginner. Will respected that. By Kayla’s descriptions, he was also quite good at archery - it was almost uncanny, in fact, how close the two sharp-shooters were in ability, despite Mateo being much newer to the craft.

Distantly, Will wondered when Apollo would hurry up and claim the boy. He was unclaimed and had been for the six months he’d been at camp. Surely it wouldn’t be much longer, right?

This was what Will thought often in regards to the younger boy, but was definitely far from his thoughts when Mateo whispered his reason for being there.

“Will,” said Mateo, his whisper fear-filled and a bit too loud. “My chest has been hurting and I think I know why.”

Normally, Will would chalk it up to growing pains, give dear Matty-boy an aspirin or something, and send him on his way out, but the way Mateo was holding himself seemed more serious. He was obviously very sore and seemed to have difficulty breathing comfortably.

“Why’s that, Mr. Herrera?” Will said as nicely as he could (though Nico told him often that his bedside manner when he was in “Doctor Mode” was oftentimes absolutely dreadful and usually hilariously so).

Mateo’s dark brown eyes looked down at his red and black sneakers, his weight shifting from his left side to his right. He looked up at Will in embarrassment, taking a hand up to smooth the dark curls growing out of his head. “Well,” he said. “I have kind of a... body issue. And the way I take care of it makes it ache.”

Will nodded seriously, hoping distantly that his eyes conveyed kindness. “What is this issue, Mateo?”

He coughed, which quickly died and turned into a wince, accompanied by a slight wince. Mateo admitted with difficulty, “I have breasts. And I... bandage them to make them less noticeable b-but-”

“Wait,” Will’s eyes grew wide and he knew he was showing a bit of teeth, but he couldn’t help himself. The look on his face was undoubtedly the same expression he’d made many an occasion - occasions such as, for example, the first time Austin said “bitch” and the first time Kayla admitted that she kind of wanted to join the Hunters of Artemis (but that was a story for a different time). It was a look of disappointment - the shocked, protectively angry kind of disappointment. “Bandage, you said?”

Face full of shame, Mateo nodded. “Yeah, ace bandages. They aren’t that good but they can make you pretty flat-”

Will put down the clipboard he’d been holding as carefully as he could. Without meaning to, he’d begun to grip it so hard that his knuckles had turned white and since he didn’t want to break it, it seemed wiser this way. “Mr. Herrera, will you follow me to the back? I’d like you to take those bandages off for a quick x-ray. This may be urgent.”

Mateo nodded, visibly sweating. “Okay,” his voice shook. “Yeah, no problem.”

In a few minutes time, Mateo had taken the x-rays, and seemed very glad to be out of the ace bandages, though Will could see those lines setting into the younger boy’s face that seemed to spell one thing, a thing Will knew very well; dysphoria. Will knew it wouldn’t be easy for poor Mateo, but he had to put his foot down.

“No more binding.” Will demanded. Mateo opened his mouth to protest but the blond shook his golden-haired head. “No. No buts and no whats. I’m the doctor and I say no binding, at least for a while. Ace bandages are not okay, Matty.”

Mateo looked down at his feet again, examined the light reflecting off of the three remaining aglets. His eyes shined too, only with tears.

Will sighed, his heart maybe breaking a little. “Mateo... I understand, okay? But there are better ways. Safer ways. Your ribs aren’t like normal bones. Those bandages can squeeze them all wrong, break them even. You seem to be mostly alright, luckily, it was smart of you to come to me, but... I’ll check the x-ray just to be sure.”

Mateo nodded. He rubbed at his eye with the heel of his hand and sniffled. “Thanks. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Will said. “Be safer. I’m gonna have to ask you not to bind for at least a week. But, don’t worry. I won’t bind either. You won’t be alone in this.”

Mateo made a face, confused. “Wait, I don’t understand. What do you mean you won’t either?”

“I’m trans, too, Matty-man.” Will shrugged. “I don’t really hide it. But, after all this, I can help you get a real binder too. You’re a bigger size than me,” Will was a bean pole of a boy and Mateo was much shorter and a bit chubby. He’d definitely need a bigger size - Will was already theorizing his measurements, which, once he realized he was, was a bit creepy. “So I can’t lend you one of mine, but we can get them here easily enough.”

“How?”

Will shrugged again. “Mr. D is the genderfluid patron god of transgender and gender non-conforming individuals. I’m always surprised more people don’t know that.”

Mateo smiled for the first time since he’d walked into the infirmary. “Wait, really?”

Will nodded. “Yup. I would be, except I’m not genderfluid and also about a gazillion years too late.” Mateo laughed, so Will continued. “Some sweet benefits, though, right?” Giggling quietly, Mateo nodded in agreement, and Will let himself relax a bit.

It had been a long time since Will was in Mateo’s shoes, and had definitely been lucky to have Cecil’s mother, who was and always would be PFLAG to the grave and had immediately done everything she could to help this baby she had taken in, to help this boy she’d barely known be true to himself and to the people around him. As soon as Will had begun to have noticeable... unwanted developments, he’d gotten his first binder - a simple black tank that had meant the world to him. It was too small now, but he still had it. Sentimental value and all that.

If Mateo had been able to fit it, however, Will would’ve handed it over. No one had told him that ace bandages were bad, it was obvious. No one had helped him cut his hair, which was a mess of curls cut at short but varying lengths once you saw it up close. No one had helped Mateo be Mateo. And Will would do anything to give this kid the same kind of influence that his mama - and he would always call her that, Mama - had given him.

“Wait,” Mateo murmured. “You mean that? You won’t bind either?”

Will shook his head. “Nope. Think of it like... a blood pact. Except, instead of blood, it’s boobs. A boob pact.”

Mateo bit his lip to keep from laughing. “A boob pact?”

Solemn as he knew how to be, Will nodded. “A boob pact. A sacred bond between trans brothers. If you have to free ball it, then I will too.”

It was a moment that passed, in near silence, a kind of special care in the air between them, before Mateo tentatively smiled. “Thank you, Will.”

And Will smiled. “Of course, bud. Now.... Let’s take a look at those x-rays, huh? And then we can talk colors for your binder.”

“I like red.”

“Red is definitely your color. Absolutely yes.”

Maybe this encounter with Mr. Herrera wouldn’t wake Will in the dead of night, shaking. Making it wouldn’t bug him too terribly in daylight hours, even - the problem was solved, after all. But, when he would lay down for the night, pajamas warm and clean, blanket soft, pillows fluffed and cool, Will would be unable to close his eyes. He’d be stuck thinking of every home like Mateo’s, every home like the one Will had grown up in - if you could call those things homes. Every place and every transgender child with a sad face and a lie on their nametag. These are the things that stain his evening thoughts, that remind him of days long past. Things are better now, he tells himself. I’m safe now. I can help kids in ways more important than even I realize. Sometimes, it helps him sleep. The look on Mateo’s face when he sees his first binder... it helps. The look on Mama’s face when he tosses a golden drachma into a spray of rainbow mist just before bed, the yell of happy surprise when she notices the call... it helps.

But there is still work to be done.

-

sorry this got super weird and dark aksjda ive been having Thoughts and i wanted to add them here. to lgbt, mogai, or otherwise queer people struggling with accepting their identity - it may not always seem like it, but its does get better. maybe not all at once or all the time, but please, take it one day at a time. remember the people that come after us too. we have to survive. for people like us, we have to survive. keep the legacy alive, keep fighting for a better future, so people like us, so kids like mateo here don’t have to fight quite so hard. and for the love of god don’t bind with ace bandages and don’t double bind!!!!!!! be safe out there, you dorks! - mod will

[huyandere]

THANK YOU FOR BLESSING US WITH APOLLO FUPA, I HOPE YOU NEVER HAVE A BAD DAY EVER

dark age of the law hard and cold apollo tummy soft and warm <3