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eddie-sweetheart · 2 years

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🏕 Camp Lovers Lake - Chapter Eight 🏕

An Eddie Munson x Female Reader summer camp story. Set just before the beginning of season 3 of Stranger Things, with a few diversions from the original plot of the series.

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Pairing and tropes • Eddie Munson x Henderson Female Reader - fluff, forced proximity, slightly slow burn, summer camp clichés ♥︎

Summary • June, 1985. Close to the city of Hawkins, Indiana, the placid waters of Lovers Lake stand as the perfect background for the homonymous summer camp, where you’re about to be a counselor for the last time before senior year and then, hopefully, college. Your brother Dustin Henderson won’t be with you this year, as he’s chosen to attend Camp Know Where until July - but with your best friend Robin Buckley at your side and the unexpected addition of Steve Harrington to your duo, the upcoming months seem to promise endless fun and exciting adventures nonetheless. However, as you get closer to Eddie Munson, resident metalhead and drug dealer who’s been forced by his uncle to work at Camp Lovers Lake after another missed graduation, your plans for the summer might have to go in an unexpected direction.

Chapter warnings • Swearing, attempted SA, (underage) drinking.

Chapter notes • I just wanted to say a big thank you to all of you who read, share, like, and comment this story: it wouldn't really happen without you and all your kind words lately have really given me the right motivation to keep going with this fic! I'm sorry if the updates are slow, and I hope you'll like this chapter as much as I loved writing it. Thank you for sticking around 🤍 I see you, and I'm grateful!

Chapter word count: 7.1 k

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Finally, sleep.

It’s incredible how wearing warm clothes after spending time in the cold can work wonders for sleepless people - especially if mixed with an unexpected dose of adrenaline and excitement that is suddenly wearing down.

Too caught up in your own (for once, positive) thoughts about the almost-kiss with Eddie and his invite to see him and his band at the Hideout this weekend, you don’t really register getting back to the cabin, changing into your spare dry pajama and sneaking into bed, among sheets that unexpectedly feel as soft as a cloud and as comfortable as a hug.

That’s Eddie’s power, you guess, as you finally drift off into a calm, shapeless dream: being able to make you unwind, forget the bad things, and look forward to something good. It’s the way his hands feel so right when they wander on your skin, the inner beauty you were able to catch beyond his starry gaze; how he held you close, to protect you without imposing himself. Always the unexpected, snarky gentleman, always with a laugh to share and ironic jokes that mean everything but resignation.

You can’t wait to see him again, tomorrow - which is probably today already, you realize with sleepy glee as you roll around in your bed, the sheets up to your neck like a cozy cocoon. You also realize that you'll have to ask Steve and Robin about sneaking out, but you’re so happy and free of worries that you’re sure they’ll say yes. The hoot of an owl seems to confirm that thought. Then, it’s all dark, and you’re fast asleep.

— 🏕 —

Knock knock.

You turn around, pushing your face against the warm pillow and grunting lightly. You pretend you didn't hear the sound - you really want to ignore it, the comfortable safety of sleep still within your reach, the empty, calming dream still at the tip of your fingers…

Knock knock.

It’s louder this time, but you’re more determined than that. The bedsheets instantly rush to cover your head, their white cotton held tightly in place by your hands as you try once again to drift off. But now the light has reached you behind your eyelids, and it’s annoyingly luminous. So very hard to ignore.

“Hellooooo, anyone home?” The creak of the wooden door and then Robin’s voice fills the room. You’re doomed once and for all, and if it wasn’t for your friendship she would be, too.

“Jesus” you groan, staying under the covers with your eyes shut. “I was sleeping, Robin. What time is it?”

Robin takes a few steps closer to your bed, and you can smell something tempting and delicious: maple syrup?

“Good morning, sleepyhead” she says, lifting up the corner of the bedsheet and peeking underneath. “You really shouldn’t be this mad, because it’s almost midday. I covered for you, saying something about 'that time of the month' and God, it’s embarrassing how that works every single time, like clockwork. And, I brought you pancakes. So stop being a grumpy kid, get out of there and tell me what you and Munson were up to last night - and pleeeease let it be all kinds of naughty things”.

You blush violently, and wonder if you should try to hide your embarrassment by rolling to the other side of the bed and pretending you’re still half asleep; however, you quickly decide that sooner or later you’d really want to tell Robin everything about last night. So, no time like the present - especially since your friend has already acknowledged the redness spreading on your face with a cheeky smirk.

“Before I explain” you say, climbing down the bed and heading towards the full plate Robin has left on the small desk, “how did you know?”

Robin knowingly scoffs. “You should thank your friend Steve” she says, “he’s way more observant than I thought, even if I bet it’s mostly unintentional. He kept rambling about how his clothes were soaking wet this morning because Eddie put his own dripping pajama on top of them and Eddie blushed - I mean, can you believe it? Hardcore, rebel, trademark metalhead Eddie Munson actually blushed - groaning something like ‘come on man, I said I’m sorry, can you leave it?’ and at that point I put two and two together just like that” she concludes, snapping her fingers in your face with a proud smile. “Because, of course, this morning my foot was welcomed by a pool of lake water right as I got up, since you left your own equally wet pajama on the floor”.

You give her an apologetic smile, your mouth full of food. “Sorry, Robs” you mumble, “I didn’t want to wake you up”.

Robin smiles, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Please, at least tell me it was worth it”.

“Well”, you carefully reply after gulping down a piece of pancake, “I think we almost kissed”.

Robin’s eyes grow wider and wider, her eyebrows shooting up and her mouth opening into a flabbergasted “O”.

“WHAT?” She exclaims, grabbing your arm and shaking you excitedly, her contagious smile making you giggle. “What do you mean you think? And what the hell is an almost kiss? Oh my god, I knew I was right, I knew it!”

You tell her all the details from last night’s occurrences, from the mysterious creature lurking on the banks of Lovers Lake to the trip on the canoe, your heartfelt speeches and the closeness between the two of you, and then the unexpected bath in the cold waters of the lake. As you tell her everything, you find yourself re-examining all the little gestures and moments you shared with Eddie, trying once again to understand if that kiss was actually going to happen. And even if a part of you almost doesn’t want to believe it, as it would be definitely too good to be true, by the time your story has reached the goodnight greetings outside Eddie’s cabin, you realize that yes - that kiss was 99% going to actually happen. And that realization takes your breath away - in the best possible meaning, of course.

“Okay” Robin says, watching you finish your breakfast with a big smile, “so what now? I mean, we need to find a way to make you guys get to the bottom of it”.

As you move away from the desk and start getting dressed for the day, or whatever’s left of it, you smile at her use of “we”. And you remember the second most important detail from last night.

“There’s a concert this weekend” you say, throwing your white and green camp t-shirt on, “Eddie and his band are playing. It’ll be at the Hideout, which apparently is not far from here, at 10 pm. Eddie invited me… us, really. You and Steve, too. Oh, and we’ll need to take Steve’s car because the others are going with their friend Grant, who’s their bassist, and it’s going to be so cool and maybe, I don’t know, me and Eddie could…”

“Y/N” Robin interrupts you, “are you telling me that you want us to sneak out of camp, go to a biker bar and listen to a metal concert?”

You stop in your tracks, your poor rambling diversion completely ignored by Robin - as you should have expected, since that’s usually her own tactic. So, in order to convince her, you opt for your best attempt at puppy eyes.

“Please, Robin, it would mean so so so much to me, pleaseee“ you try, going as far as to clasp your hands together in prayer.

“Begging, really? Are we at this point already?” Robin wonders with a shake of her head, but the smile on her face is everything but mocking. “But, I guess, if it makes you happy, I’ll do this illegal and frankly crazy thing for you. But just this once” she finally concedes, earning a hug and an excited grin.

“God, if he does anything to wipe that smile off of your face, I’ll break his neck” Robin mutters as you link your arm to hers and make your way outside.

— 🏕 —

“But why do we need to use my car?”

Somehow, in all your grand plans to make Corroded Coffin’s concert the highlight of the summer, both you and Robin kind of took Steve's agreement for granted. However, after telling him the plan while accurately avoiding any reference to the romantic side of the endeavor, his blank reply makes you realize that maybe you shouldn’t have.

“Because you’re the only one of us who has a driving license” Robin bluntly replies, popping up from behind a tree with a handful of dry, fallen branches in her hands. You’re collecting wood to burn at the Great Bonfire, the official camp version of your very own clandestine experience.

“And, because you’re our dearest, favorite friend” you echo her, grabbing a few sticks from the ground and placing them in the basket hanging from your arm. “Come on, we really want you to come with us. It’ll be cool, and we’ll have fun”.

Steve looks at you with curiosity. “I’ve heard about the Hideout” he says, and the fact that he still hasn’t agreed is starting to make your stomach drop. “I mean, it’s surely a place, but I don’t know about the fun. Unless you like bars that are packed with old bikers with long beards and where they only play rock or metal music”.

“Come on, Harrington” Robin affectionately jokes, throwing one arm around his shoulders and squeezing, “let’s try something different for once. And don’t try to play the good boy card: you might have never sneaked out of camp before, but I know it's not the first time you’ve done something like this - and yes, this time it won’t be for a girl, but see it this way: you’ll do it for two girls. What do you think?”

Steve loudly groans, almost dropping his own basket in an attempt to shrug Robin off of him, but when he speaks again he says exactly what you’ve hoped for. “Alright, alright. But we’re coming back at midnight”.

You and Robin (not so) silently cheer behind his back.

“What day is it going to be?” Steve asks, going back to inspect the ground for more wood.

“Uhm” you hesitate, realizing that you actually don’t know. “I’ll have to ask Eddie. He didn’t really specify it”.

Steve pops one eyebrow up at you, but as he’s about to say something Robin shoves him with a wide grin. “Lovely” she says, making her way back to the cabins and dragging you both with her, “let’s ask him tonight then”.

And tonight it is, indeed - as you’ll all be together at the Great Bonfire.

As soon as the sun lowers on the farther edge of the lake, its rays glittering red and warm on the flat surface of the water, campers and counselors alike start grouping up around the huge pile of wood and branches you’ve collected during the day. The Great Bonfire is one of the most beloved traditions at Camp Lovers Lake, turning dinner time into an unofficial roasting contest that ranges from classic sausages and marshmallows to melted cheese and burnt corn.

Once you get there with Robin, the fire has just been started and Eddie, Steve, Gareth and Jeff are already sitting beside it, right in the middle of the crowd of chattering teenagers and excited little kids.

“Good evening ladies” Jeff greets you, scooting along the tree trunk he’s sitting on to make some space for you to join them, “we saved you a seat and some food. You won’t believe how feral these little ones are - we’ve almost run out of corn already”.

Both you and Robin sit down and thank him as you grab the handful of sticks he’s offering you, with all sorts of vegetables and sausages stuck on them. Right behind you, on the outer sitting circle around the fire, you can hear Eddie, Steve and Gareth arguing about something that sounds like the best meat-to-cheese ratio on skewers.

“Hey, Eddie” you call out as you turn around, careful not to be too loud.

Immediately stopping his argument in support of Gareth’s “infallible 2/3 solution”, Eddie turns to you with a big smile that reaches deep into his dark, beautiful eyes.

“Hello, princess” he says, placing his elbows on his knees as he leans forward and closer to you, his ringed hands dangling between his legs. “How are you? I haven’t seen you all day”.

You blush, and this time you’re not so ready to blame it on the heat of the fire - even though it’s due to something that highly resembles it.

“That’s because I turned into a lumberjack today. See all that?” you joke, nodding towards the roaring flames, “we went out into the woods to make this beauty happen”.

Eddie nods, amazed. “I see” he says, the fire glittering in the dark of his eyes, “that’s hot. Like, literally”.

You look at him stunned for a second, before bursting out into a laugh that he joins immediately, making the others turn their heads with a curios frown - and a satisfied, knowing smirk from Robin.

“So, what day is the concert this weekend?” You ask Eddie as you try to take a breath between one fit of giggling and the other.

“Oh, Jesus Christ” Eddie sighs, drying one tear with the heel of his hand, “I didn’t say it, did I? It’s Saturday”

Your heart starts beating a little faster with anticipation. “So in two days. Cool, thanks” you say, turning back around towards the fire to stick your dinner among the flames.

A small movement of the air behind you and the sudden increase in your body temperature, completely unrelated to the heat of the bonfire, let you know that Eddie’s leaning forward, closing the space between the two of you.

“I can’t wait” he whispers in your ear, his breath (or his hair?) tickling the back of your neck.

— 🏕 —

Friday somehow goes by, your impatience for the weekend to come and the tedious tasks of kitchen duty making it an endless day of prepping and serving meals and scrubbing pans until they’re squeaky clean under the hawk-like gaze of Mrs. Janet. By the end of dinner, your hands are swollen and dry, but you really don’t care - because, once you wake up the next morning just as the sun rises above the farthest shore of Lovers Lake, Saturday is finally here.

You don’t see Eddie for the whole morning, and for the whole day really. You only manage to catch a glimpse of him at lunch, as he comes with Gareth and Jeff to the Headquarters to grab a sandwich and a coke, say hi and disappear back into his cabin with the other two at his heels.

“They don’t have their guitars and stuff here, so they couldn’t practice for tonight” Steve explains to you and Robin as you go back to your meal, trying to hide a tiny little pang of disappointment at not being able to spend some time with Eddie before the concert. “So, he’s stressing them out by going over and over the tracklist and examining each song into detail that it’s way heavier than the metal music they’re going to play. Oh, and of course I’m banned from my own cabin for the rest of the day. Go figure if that’s fair” Steve complains, shaking his head as he pokes at his food.

“You can stay at ours if you want” Robin says, kicking him lightly under the wooden table with the tip of her shoe, “enjoy some girl time, paint your nails for the show, maybe. I bet you’d love that”.

Steve grunts, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “Thanks, Buckley” he annoyedly replies, “but I really don’t think that’ll be necessary. He’ll have to let me in after dinner, if he wants me to get changed, get my keys and drive your lot to the Hideout. I mean, it’s my cabin, too”.

Robin lifts her palms up in surrender. “As you wish. Good luck with that”.

As always, of course, Robin was right. Not even the luckiest planet alignment in the universe could have helped Steve in his mighty task: Corroded Coffin’s dedication to their music and to the upcoming show is way stronger than Steve’s right to get back in his cabin, as it clearly turns out once he comes knocking at your door straight after lights out.

“Hello, big boy” Robin welcomes him, moving away from the entrance as she holds the door open to let him in. “Ready for your makeover?”

Steve doesn’t even reply, his mood darker than the night sky outside. He steps in silently, greeting you with an acknowledging nod and puffing with exasperation as he sits down on the desk’s chair, a bundle of clothes in his lap.

“So they gave you your stuff, then” you observe before going back to impatiently rummaging into your travel bag, desperately looking for something that doesn’t scream off-duty camp counselor.

“They threw them at me” Steve specifies with a piqued tone, “from the window. I think it was Gareth, but they closed it so fast I couldn’t even see. At least they remembered the keys”.

“Come on, dingus, relax” Robin states, offering him a beer can still dewy with condensation. “Drink this. We stole a few from the stash”.

“Robin, he has to drive” you observe, causing Robin’s eyes to widen and snatch the can away from Steve’s grasp just as he’s reaching out for it.

“Seriously?” Steve protests, dropping his hands in his lap on top of the clothes.

Robin lifts her eyebrows, handing the can to you instead. “I’m sorry, Steve, but I’m not risking my life in a car accident, dying in the middle of the night in these creepy woods with wild beasts ready to feast on our corpses just because you decided to drink and drive”.

“But you just offered it to me!” Steve hisses.

“Yeah, well, on second thought I think she needs it more than us” Robin replies, making Steve’s head turn towards you as she does the same.

“Yeah” he says, suddenly calmer and more collected, “I think you might be right”.

You haven’t even realized it, but you’ve scattered all of your clothes on Robin’s bed, which now looks like the aftermath of an explosion. Your foot is nervously tapping on the cabin’s floor, and you’re gnawing at your nails while sipping beer and staring with wide eyes at the mess of t-shirts and jeans, without a clue of what you’ll wear. Sure, from the outside you might actually look a little crazy.

With a sigh, Robin comes to you and moves a few items of clothing away until she finds what she’s looking for. As you look at her with hope and surrender, she picks up a denim miniskirt and an oversized white shirt and throws them at you. You grab them with your free hand, holding on for dear life to the beer can in the other.

“With the black boots” she says, then she moves to her own suitcase and after a few seconds of poking around she takes out a slightly big black leather blazer and hands it over to you. “Add this and you’ll be okay. And take care of it, it’s my favorite”.

You look at her in surprise and, somehow, the outfit starts to make sense in your head. Then, Robin grabs a pair of dark green shorts for herself and pairs them with a cream-colored button-down with black leaves printed on it.

“Come on, Harrington” she exclaims, clapping her hands at him and receiving a confused look in return. “Ugh, turn around, close your eyes, do something for god’s sake”.

Steve groans as he gets up and turns towards the door, leaning his forehead against it as he closes his eyes, probably regretting his decision to agree to this mayhem while you and Robin get changed.

“Are you done?” He asks after a few seconds, and once you give him the go-ahead he turns back around again. His eyes widen as he looks at you both.

“Oh” he says, “you look good without the camp t-shirt. I mean, with something else than that”.

“Perv” Robin scoffs, rolling her eyes, but her smirk reveals that she actually appreciates the comment. As you do, really, even if it’s someone else’s opinion you’re really caring about tonight.

Steve makes you both exit the cabin as it’s his turn to get changed. While you wait in the dark, Robin pokes at you with her elbow.

“He’s going to faint when he sees you” she states, making you blush a little. “You look hot, y/n. And it’s all because of my jacket”.

You smile at her. You don’t know if she’s right, but for now it’s all you need to hear. “Thanks, Robin. I don’t know what I’d do without you”.

“You probably wouldn’t get laid” she says, and you both giggle in the night.

In the distance, you hear the rumble of an engine and as you turn around towards the camp’s entrance you notice two tiny luminous dots among the trees. They stop for a minute or two, then you hear a door shutting closed and then the dots disappear.

“That must’ve been their ride” Robin observes. You look at your watch and realize that it’s half past nine.

“Come on Steve, hurry up” you whisper while knocking softly on the cabin door. You’d yell at him, if only you didn’t have to avoid getting caught.

Thankfully, the door opens almost immediately, letting out a panting Steve - who looks exactly the same except for a blue polo.

“What?” He asks you and Robin, who are throwing confused and annoyed looks at him just as you start hurrying towards the parking lot.

“What the hell took you so long?” You ask, scanning the area to look for his car. “You’re basically wearing the same clothes”.

Steve stops in his tracks, looking at you with an offended glare. “I had to fix my hair” he replies, patting the pockets of his jeans. “And now that you’ve rushed me out, I can’t find my keys”.

“Maybe you’ve left them in the cabin” Robin groans, “go check”.

Steve rushes back, muttering something under his breath. Five minutes pass, and he still hasn’t come back. You look at your watch: it’s 9:45 pm.

“You know, it won’t be that bad if we get a little late” Robin tentatively tells you, easily guessing your thoughts. “Guys love to be kept waiting. Or so I’ve heard”.

You sigh, getting closer to Steve’s car and checking yourself in the dark reflection of its windows. Of course, your make-up had to come out decently on the day you’re going to miss Eddie’s concert.

“Got them” Steve whispers loudly as he finally appears back from the woods, his car keys jingling in his hands. “They were under the bed. Let’s go”.

Your heart beats faster as you get in the passenger’s seat, while Steve starts the engine and Robin almost literally throws herself on the backseat. Steve keeps the headlights off and drives as slow as possible until he’s out of the parking lot; then, once you finally hit the road and the Camp Lovers Lake sign gets smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror, Robin leans forward between the two of you in the front to turn the radio on and the volume up to a Scorpions song. Adrenaline and excitement, as well as the realization of what you’re doing, finally hit you all and make you sing along to “Rock You Like A Hurricane” at the top of your lungs.

— 🏕 —

As fast as Steves dares to drive, however, you finally reach the Hideout at 10:20 pm.

Turns out that looking for a place you’ve never been to in the dark of the night isn’t that easy, even if it should be right at the side of the road. Thankfully, after a few wrong turns and a lot of bickering, Steve’s BMW slows down into the large parking lot of a battered pub, whose neon sign confirms indeed that, finally, it’s the Hideout you’ve been looking for.

Steve manages to park the car between a truck and two motorcycles, not without some difficulty as the place is packed with all kinds of vehicles and people walking around, making it way different from the “crowd of five drunks” Eddie told you about.

The bar itself seems quite spacious - sure, it’s not huge, but judging from the number of bikers and customers going in and out, it looks like it could hold quite a decent crowd.

You make your way past some bearded men with distressed denim vests and giant beers in their hands, and for a moment you feel like a fool. They must be wondering what three late teens who are clearly underage are doing in a place like this, one wearing a polo and the others looking like lost sheep; they’re probably mocking you, and maybe they’ll try to pick a fight or something, and you’re not really sure that Steve would be able to face them all… but as you brush past them, they don’t even seem to notice you. Well, one of them actually does, at some point, but his reaction is nothing but a small smile and a silent cheer as he lifts his beer at you.

It feels surreal to you, but you smile back - and then, Steve pushes the door open and suddenly it’s all loud music, and smoke, and lights. And people, lots of people.

“I thought he said it was small” Robin yells in your ear, trying to overcome her shock and the loud rock’n’roll jamming that’s happening on a small stage at your left, far back into the room.

A waitress that looks 40 but with the body and the outfit of a teenager walks fast beside you, pushing a few bikers away as the six drinks on her tray dangerously shake and tilt, but never fall.

“I thought so, too” you yell back, looking around and trying to make sense of your surroundings - and hopefully, find Eddie and the rest of your friends.

To your right, a long wooden counter separates three busy bartenders from a crowd of people standing against it - both men and women, mostly wearing denim, leather and boots while laughing and chatting loudly. Not far from them, towards the center of the room, there are many small, round tables scattered all over, with customers drinking and smoking and occasionally eating large hamburgers and platters of brownish fries. Some of them are nibbling handfuls of peanuts, whose shells are littering the floor and being reduced to dust as boots crash and walk on them.

Just beyond that set of tables, there’s another group of people standing - but these ones are dancing to the music, half-empty glasses spilling all kinds of drinks as they move and shake their heads to the fast rhythm of some rock song, which you don’t know.

Thankfully, in spite of your lateness, as soon as your eyes land back on the stage to identify the source of the music, you notice that the band playing is definitely not Corroded Coffin. You start wondering how long a set lasts, thinking that maybe you’ve completely missed Eddie’s performance, but your attention is grabbed by a tap on your shoulder before you can give yourself an answer.

“Look” Steve mouths, pointing to a poster stuck on a wall beside the entrance and displaying some colorful words on a black and white picture of a man playing the guitar. On top of the poster, you read the words Live Music Night and below the guitarist there’s a timetable with a list of bands and what seems to be the time they’re going to play; someone, however, must have corrected the setlist, as a double-headed arrow pointing both at the 10 pm and 11 pm slots seems to suggest that Corroded Coffin and The Red Strings have switched places.

You take a deep breath in relief, knowing you still have some time before Eddie’s going to play.

“Let’s go find them” you shout at Steve and Robin, but she’s already done that.

“They’re right there” she exclaims, nodding towards a table at the opposite side of the room. You follow her gaze and your heart skips a beat as soon as you catch a glimpse of him.

If you thought that seeing Eddie at the secret bonfire meant seeing him at his best and in his element, you now realize that you were completely wrong. The way his slightly crooked smile is shining, putting his dimples on full display, and the way his eyes are glittering even this far away from you, right as he sips his beer and laughs at something Jeff has said, literally takes your breath away. And it’s not just how completely comfortable and confident he seems in this place - he looks incredibly hot, as well. His wild hair and messy fringe are partly covered by a black bandana with skulls printed on it, tied on top of his head and making his curls stick out a little more than usual; he’s wearing his usual black leather jacket, but instead of the denim vest you’ve already seen on him he’s styled it with a black and red checkered shirt left open underneath it. Under that, you spot a black t-shirt with a white, spiky font spelling out “Corroded Coffin”. And, to top it all off, a beautiful dark red electric guitar is hanging across his back, making him look like the star he is.

You see Eddie put down his glass as he nods absentmindedly at the conversation Jeff, Gareth and another guy you’ve never seen before are having; then, he scans the room with his eyebrows slightly furrowed - and his eyes finally land on yours.

His whole face lights up and the brightest smile you’ve ever seen blooms on his lips as he lifts an arm and starts waving a hand to make you see him. You smile back and you could swear you’re floating on cloud nine as you make your way towards his table, gently pushing people away as you move through the crowd, Robin and Steve right behind you.

Eddie’s eyes never leave yours, but as you’re about to make it past a particularly tight-knit group of customers the energy in the room suddenly shifts. All it takes for your heart to break is a few seconds: the perfect slot of time for a young, blonde woman to reach them before you do, drop a couple of beers on the table, sit down right on Eddie’s lap and place a kiss on his blushing cheek as she swings an arm around his shoulders.

The smile freezes on your lips and you almost stop in your tracks, but as Robin unexpectedly trips behind you she pushes you forward, making you cover whatever space is left between you and your friends with a few tumbling steps.

“Hey, guys!” Jeff exclaims, standing up from his seat to welcome you. “You’ve made it! See, Eddie? I told you so”.

Eddie looks up at you, tempting another smile as he says an unusually shy “Hi”. You manage to smile back and utter a “Hi” yourself, your mind going on autopilot as you’re trying to process what’s going on.

“Oh, so these are your friends” the girl says with a grin before tightening her grip on Eddie’s shoulders and shaking him a little bit. “Thank god you guys switched place with The Red Strings, uh? Hi, I’m Barbara”.

You don’t know if the weird note in her voice is irony, but you’re too caught up in realizing how beautiful she looks to understand it. You’re still staring at her incredibly tight and low-cut leather dress and fishnet tights when Robin addresses her, trying to make your silence less awkward.

“I’m Robin, that’s Steve and she’s y/n” she says, holding out her hand and shaking Barbara’s. “Eddie’s surely mentioned her- I mean, us?”

“Oh, well” Barbara says, looking down at Eddie and then back at you. “Actually no, not really, but it’s nice to meet you! Are you ready for the show?”

For the next fifteen minutes, you completely ignore Eddie, even if he tries to speak to you across the table. You pretend you don’t hear his vague questions and his attempts at starting a conversation, and instead you focus on Grant, the fourth member of the band that you’re meeting for the first time, and on drinking shot after shot - leaving Robin to deal with an increasingly confused and worried Eddie.

After a while, the band on stage stops playing and a wave of applause and loud cheers accompanies them as they climb down the wooden platform, their songs now replaced by a rock playlist echoing from some speakers on the ceiling. The short break before the next live performance doesn’t stop people from dancing and singing, though.

After you gulp down another glass of whatever’s liquor the waitress is bringing to the table (“bottomless drinks are one of the few perks of unpaid shows” Grant jokes), you feel Robin’s hand squeeze your arm.

“Hey” she says, looking at you with a worried smile, “Come dance with me?”

“Sure” you nod, not really understanding why she’s suddenly so eager to hit the dance floor. Steve looks up at you, not interrupting his conversation with Jeff and Gareth, and keeps staring as you both stand up and head towards the group of people moving to the first notes of another rock song - one that you’ve heard before, but whose title you can’t really recall.

“Y/n” Robin asks you once you’re hidden among the crowd, “are you okay?”

You scoff, and you remember that it’s “Pour Some Sugar On Me” by Def Leppard. You like the song, and you start moving to its rhythm.

“I mean, maybe she’s just a friend” Robin tries, following your movements as best as she can and unexpectedly making you smile. A smile that soon turns sour as you see Steve talking to her back at the table, and wondering why he’s making friends with the enemy.

“Yeah” you say, “because I sit on your lap and smooch you all the time, right? Is that what friends do?”

Robin shrugs. “I don’t see why he would have asked you to come, then. If he knew she’d be here”.

“Maybe he didn’t” you reply, barely noticing a particularly drunk guy almost crashing into you. “Or maybe he knew, and since he doesn’t really feel what we thought he felt, it wasn’t a problem. After all, who am I to him? He didn’t even tell her we were coming”.

Robin grabs you by your shoulders, keeping you still in place. “Listen, we might not know who she is, but I know for sure that he likes you. Don’t even try to argue with me about that. I also know that right now you’re upset and all, but we came here to have fun: so why don’t we try to actually have some and maybe find out more about her later? We might even ask her, to clear things up once and for all. But let’s dance a bit first, yeah? To take the edge off”.

You don’t know if that makes total sense to you, but for now you agree. You’ll trust Robin to make any decision tonight. You’ll just follow her lead. And it actually feels nice, dancing in the crowd to the guitar riffs of the song, swaying your hips and lifting your arms up as you sing along, the alcohol in your system making everything seem ethereal and not really that big of a problem. Even the table at the edge of the room feels miles away - unlike Eddie’s eyes, though, which are glued on you, making you almost feel his gaze as you move and dance under the neon lights of the Hideout.

You twirl, but the music changes and the crowd moves, and in the blink of an eye you lose sight of Robin. As you turn around to look for her, you end up against something - someone, actually, and as you look up you realize that it’s the drunk guy that almost crashed into you earlier.

“Hey” he exclaims, sneaking a hand around your waist and pulling you closer to him, “What’s a beautiful young lady like you doing here at this hour?”

You try to push him away, looking around for Robin, but he’s strong, and you can smell the alcohol on him as he moves his face closer to yours.

“Come on, don’t be so uptight” he whispers in your ear, and with a cold shiver of dread you realize that while he’s keeping you against him with one hand, the other is slithering down your back and towards the edge of your skirt.

It never reaches it, however, because someone grabs the guy from the collar of his shirt and yanks him away from you.

“Don’t fucking touch her, man” Eddie almost growls, positioning himself between you and the guy, his arm protectively and gently moving you behind him.

“Woah, calm down” the guy replies, staggering. “We were just having some fun. Right, gorgeous?”

You instinctively grab Eddie’s arm, holding on to it as he tenses up.

“I don’t think so” Eddie says, slowly, “Now go and don’t ever come close to her again, you understand?”

“Or what?” The guy says, frowning as he crackles his knuckles, making you shiver.

You see Eddie’s fists tighten, but before things escalate Steve and the others appear almost out of thin air.

“Come on, dude” Steve says, taking a step closer to the guy, followed by the others. “Go have another drink and sleep it off, yeah? It’s not worth it, there’s five of us”.

The guy stares at him and then he starts walking backward. “Keep your fucking girlfriend on a leash next time” he says, spitting at Eddie’s feet before disappearing into the crowd.

Eddie doesn’t give him a second glance, as he’s too busy turning towards you and grabbing your face with his hands.

“You okay, y/n? Did that asshole hurt you?” He asks, his dark brown eyes scanning your face with worry, and for a second you forget all about Barbara.

“I’m fine” you reply, “really”.

Eddie sighs in relief. “Good. That’s good” he says, the tips of his fingers absentmindedly grazing your cheek.

“You saved the day, Prince Charming” Barbara exclaims, bringing you back down to reality. Hard. “Now hurry and go get ready backstage, before they cancel your gig. Hush hush”.

Eddie gives you one last smile before dropping his hands away from you, adjusting the strap of his guitar and walking away with Jeff, Gareth and Grant right behind him.

“Let’s go sit, shall we?” Barbara says, grabbing you under your arm and leading you away from the crowd. You look at Robin, and she shrugs as you all get back to the table.

There isn’t any music now, only the loud chatter of the bikers and bar customers occasionally interrupted by high-pitched feedback sounds as a few staff members are fixing the microphones and adjusting the speakers on stage.

“So, is this the first time you’re seeing them live?” Barbara asks you as she takes a sip of her beer.

“Yeah, it is” you tentatively reply, drumming your fingers on the table.

Barbara smirks. “Oh, you’ll love them. I’m always here when they play, and their shows are always amazing - especially the backstage celebrations, if you know what I mean” she says, winking. “And Eddie… he’s special, that one. If you’ll ever get to know him like I do, you’ll see that music is not his only talent. The boy surely has many, I promise you that”. She concludes with a sigh and a giggle.

If you weren’t sure what to make of her until now, now you do. You know girls code too well not to get what she means, and by the stunned look on Robin’s face you know she gets it, too.

A presenter walks on stage, but you can’t see him that well, since tears blur your sight and threaten to fall down your cheeks. He talks into the microphone, speaking a few words to introduce the next band, a small metal group from Hawkins that’s played at the Hideout before, and whose name makes cheers erupt from the crowd.

“Steve” Robin suddenly says as Corroded Coffin walk on stage, “I don’t think I feel very well - must be something I ate at dinner”.

You all turn towards her to see her grimace and hold her stomach with both hands.

“Jesus, Robin, are you sure?” Steve asks, his eyebrows up in surprise.

Robin nods eagerly, her eyes on yours. You understand and giver her a small, almost unintelligible nod.

“Yeah, it hurts sooooo bad” she complains, closing her eyes and breathing deep.

Barbara rushes to grab her bag, opening it and poking around inside it. “Maybe I have a pill or something, would you…”

“Oh no” Robin shakes her head, interrupting her. “I think it’s better if we go… Steve, can you drive us back?”

Steve looks back and forth between you and Robin, uncertain. You hear a few tuning riffs coming from the stage, but you don’t look.

“Yeah, let’s take her back to camp” you quickly say, sniffing briefly.

“But the show…” Steve observes, softly staring at you.

You shrug, getting up just as Eddie introduces himself and the band to the crowd. “It’s fine, we’ll come to the next one. Can you tell them it was an emergency?” You ask Barbara, who’s worriedly looking at a suffering Robin.

“Yes, sure” she replies, “They’ll be so bummed. I mean, Eddie-“

“Cool, thank you so much” Robin says, jumping to her feet and grabbing you with one hand while holding her belly with the other. “It was nice meeting you. See you next time!”.

With a fairly confused Steve following you, you walk across the room to head outside and go back to the fresh air of the night, the door closing behind you just as the first few notes of Corroded Coffin’s opening song start playing.

— 🏕 —

Hope you enjoyed this chapter :) Feedback is always welcome!

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balletfilmss · 5 months

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LOVERS LAKE

✸ pairing : luke castellan x fem!reader

✸ synopsis: you & luke escape to the lake and away from counselor duties!

✸ warnings: pre-tlt, established relationship, kissing, me believing whole heartedly that i can fix him

✸ authors’s note: ignoring that it’s literally christmas & this is so summer-coded, charlie bushnell brought back my original series luke obsession so here you go 🙈

the lake was arguably the best place to be at camp half-blood, even for someone who hated the water and was all but dragged their by somebody else who loved it.

that someone was you, and the somebody else was luke.

that boy loved swimming in the lake like the stars love sitting in the sky, and the only thing that made it better was when you were there with him.

between knowing that fact and the pleading look in his pretty puppy eyes, how could you say no?

so now you and him were in the lake together, on a rare escape from your responsibilities as counselors during rec time. you may or may not have been hiding from your campers by staying hidden by the boathouse that stored the camp’s supply of canoes.

you were clinging onto the wooden dock while your boyfriend swam about, still putting on your angry facade at him after he threw you in the water initially.

was the way he scooped you up in his big strong arms and grinned like a little kid when he jumped in with you absolutely adorable? yes. did that mean you were going to let him get away with it? absolutely not.

pouting with your arms wrapped around the dock leg, you watched as the boy’s head disappeared underwater, not missing the mischievous glint that lingered in his eyes beforehand.

and just as you had expected, a wet head of dark curls popped up just beside you. just to be annoying, he shook his head like some kind of dog and laughed when you scrunched your face up at the flying drops of water.

the little loser laughed at you. now you were definitely mad, and would’ve crossed your arms and harrumphed if you weren’t still holding on to the dock like you’d die if you let go.

“are you ever gonna leave that poor dock be and actually come swim with me?” he asked, batting his pretty long eyelashes like he was pleading for you to do what he asked.

“go away.” you grumbled, looking away from him.

“aw, c’mon sweetheart.” he cooed, his tone teetering between teasing and sincere.

you felt familiar hands wrap around your waist as luke pried you away from the dock, ignoring your words of protest.

“you are literally going to drown me.” you frown as you have no choice but to hold onto him.

look, it wasn’t that you couldn’t swim, it was just that it was going to take one hell of a monster chasing you to make it happen.

“oh my gods, i am going to die.”

you were now out of arm’s reach of the shore, left with nothing but your boyfriend to keep you afloat. dam it.

“would you relax? i’m not gonna let you drown.” he chuckled, smiling at your antics as he kept both you and himself afloat.

“well you pushed me in, so you may as well.” you responded, sticking your chin up in dramatic negligence.

“hey, it was push you in or get caught and have about seventeen campers join us. which would you rather have?”

the first option, obviously, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

instead, you stuck to the silent treatment, which meant luke was left to his last and final resort.

“guess you leave me with no choice then,” he feigned a regretful sigh, even though you both knew he was ecstatic to do what he was thinking.

“wha- no. no no no no!”

luke had let go of your waist for no more than two seconds before you had screamed and clung onto him for dear life, your arms tightly wound around his neck and legs around his waist.

“i’m going to kill you, castellan.” you grumble, unable to see his reaction as your cheek was pressed against his.

there it was again, that gods damned chuckle of his that made your heart do little somersaults.

“love you too.” he said humorously. but when you didn’t reply with the same phrase, it was his turn to pout.

“hey.”

between the pout in his voice and the poke he delivered to your sides, you knew that your inattention had had just the effect you wanted.

this was the dance the two of you had done several times before. he’d annoy you, you’d ignore him and then you would relish in the way he turned into a lost puppy when it lasted for ten seconds too long, proving once again just how tightly you had him wrapped around your finger.

“hey. hey. hey.”

he poked you again and again, repeating the same word in hopes that you’d look at him, but you remained relentless.

“i’m not forgiving you that easily.” you insisted, as if your faces weren’t inches away from each other and water wasn’t the only thing between your body and his.

once again, he knew you too well to know there was little truth to your words.

he pressed a kiss to your cheek in hopes to get you to finally turn your head and look at him. again, nothing.

“hey, pretty girl.” he whispered, growing desperate and excruciatingly impatient. “would you at least look at me?”

feeling as though you’d drawn it out rather excessively, you listened and looked at him.

immediately, your lips were captured by his in a sweet kiss, the lake water seeping in between and tainting the flavor.

when he pulled away, luke wore a smirky kind of smile that made you want to kiss him again just to get rid of it and the giddy little feeling it gave you.

“am i forgiven now?”

he was, but instead of saying that, that was when you splashed a wave of water in his pretty little face.

#୨୧ love letters #｡ﾟ･ׂׂ daddy issues (kj’s version)#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x you #percyjackson #percy series #pjo show #pjo x reader #charlie bushnell #luke castellan #luke castellan pjo #pjo #percy jackon and the olympians

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supercutszns · 2 months

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twin beads | luke castellan

wc + pairing: 6.7k, luke x daughter of poseidon! reader

synopsis: you’ve been unclaimed for five years. you’ve loved your best friend even longer. the sea used to be your greatest solace, but after percy jackson comes to camp, it’s your cruelest reminder. (based on this ask!)

warnings: best friends to lovers <3, percy/reader sibling dynamic, fluff and angst then fluff again, hurt/comfort, shameless making out. sorry this one is so long but besties to lovers is my lifeblood!!! i get so attached!! designated song is true blue by boygenius:)

i. you said you wanted to feel alive, so we went to the beach

“Ahoy, sailor!”

The familiar voice ricochets across the lake. You turn, leaving glimmers of sun behind you as you stare back at the docks of Camp Half-Blood. An orange blob with a curly mop of hair is beckoning you. You laugh, wave back at him, and plunge into the water. It cools your face after staying above the surface for so long—you just love watching the light reflected off the waves. But the second you’re under the water, the soreness in your muscles, the heat on your face, the exhaustion from treading for so long, are washed away from you. You swim with precision and vigor, relishing the feel of the river cupping your limbs to spur you forward. Not to sound lame, but you fucking love swimming.

But maybe not as much as you love your best friend.

He laughs when your head pops out of the water at the edge of the dock. “Wow, that took you longer than usual,” he teases, brown eyes glinting in the dawn. “You getting sloppy?”

You huff, splashing some water up at him but it barely touches him. “I’m tired, you moron. I’ve been out there for an hour.”

Luke leans down at the edge of the dock, offering you a hand. His face is bemused when you latch onto him, and with a good flex of his bicep he pulls you up. “All right, c’mon,” he grunts.

All your energy evaporates the second your body’s out of the water. You’re far too lazy to be graceful, so you sprawl out onto the dock like a dying fish, letting the sun kiss every inch of you. “Eww,” Luke giggles overtop you, prodding your side with the tip of his shoe. “Get up, you mermaid.”

“Make me, you mailman.”

Your arm drapes over your eyes, and you sigh. There really is nothing better than these moments; droplets of water soaking into your skin after an early morning swim, your best friend right beside you.

He keeps nudging you with your shoe, over and over until your ribs start to hurt. You groan, swatting him away and stretching out your limbs with a groan, letting them pop and relax, until you blearily make your way to your feet.

“You forgot your towel again,” Luke condones, but like always, he’s brought one for you.

He goes through a practiced routine of drying you off, wrapping the towel around your shoulders and down your arms, across your back, scrunching the water out of your hair. It doesn’t matter how cold the water gets—this part always makes you warm.

“Thanks,” you smile as he hands the towel off to you. “Anything interesting happen this morning, O Captain, my captain?”

“Not yet, sailor, sir,” he replies in a stuffy, gruff voice the two of you have joked around with since you were kids. “Just grabbing you for breakfast.”

You giggle, following him past the docks and to the shore. Once you’ve grabbed all your stuff, you both fall in stride and head towards your cabin, your twin five-beaded necklaces hanging over your shirts.

Five years ago, when you got to Camp for the first time, you were as big a loser as any. You were bad at everything—everything—and had no real friends until you accidentally whacked some other friendless loser in the head with an oar when you were about to go canoeing. Luke got mad at you, but his little sister Annabeth was even more furious. He offered to be your partner for the day anyway. You’ve been partners ever since.

Over the years the two of you have grown in status at the camp, more so Luke than you. He’s an excellent cabin leader and by far the greatest swordsman in camp. You, still unclaimed, have found solace in giving younger campers swimming lessons and wading out there on your own till you get sunstroke. (It’s happened a few times. Luke is never pleased, but also refuses to let the Apollo campers take care of you. He nurses you back to health with ice cream and horrible gossip.)

But every night you return to the Hermes cabin with a hollowness in your chest. One bunk emptied, then immediately filled. You’ve had the same one for five years, and the only condolence is that it’s right next to Luke’s, and sometimes you spend hours at night making faces at each other till your laughter endangers other people’s sleep.

Yes, you love the water at Camp Half-Blood, but you love Luke most.

Rumours of a new kid are rustling at camp. You haven’t seen him, but you’re just dying to get in on the gossip. Apparently he slayed a minotaur. Apparently Annabeth has seen him. And apparently he’s unclaimed. You hate to admit it, but this is the most exciting news you’ve heard in weeks!

Your afternoon is spent giving some swimming lessons and taking some Demeter campers canoeing. (Some of them freak out on the water. so it’s a nice challenge to untangle the sea plants they get hooked around their boat.) It feels like you’ve been here forever. A break is in desperate demand right now.

You have no idea what kind of God heard your prayers, but your fellow counsellor has an unimpressed look on her face when she taps you on the shoulder and goes, “Your friend’s calling you.”

The way she says it is almost degrading. You turn to look back at the shore to see the dark curly hair you’d spot a mile away. Next to him is a much shorter orange blob, shuffling awkwardly as Luke attempts to flag you down. Score!

You shoot an apologetic look at her. “Uh … I’ll be right back.” You wince, already disposing of your baggy orange shirt (it’s Luke’s) with your bathing suit underneath.

“No you won’t,” she says dryly. “Just go.”

You flash a smile you hope is loaded with charm, and you’re off into water. As you swim, the only thing on your mind is I really really hope that’s the new kid, and I wonder what Luke’s face looks like right now. (He’s probably grinning, eyes crinkled at the sides as he tries to follow your figure beneath the waves. Maybe he’s doing that cute thing where his head tilts to the side as he watches.)

When you’re close enough to the shore, you come out of the water, wringing your hair. “Hey, guys!” It’s Luke, Chris, and some blonde kid you’re sure is the new one. “What’s up?”

Luke is about to say something, then he frowns. “Where’s my shirt?”

“Left it in the canoe, I’ll go back for it later,” you reply, limply gesturing behind you.

“And where’s your towel?”

“Okay, I did bring one this time!” You counter. “I just gave it to a little Ares kid ‘cause she forgot hers.”

Luke clicks his tongue, shakes his head at you, but of course he’s got one in his hands so what’s the worry? He’s endearingly amused when you take the cloth and dry yourself off, and the new boy, having watched this all raptly, widens his eyes and drawls, “Ohhhh, so you’re his gi—”

“This is Camp’s resident mermaid, Percy.” Chris butts in, adding your name almost as an afterthought.

After you fasten your towel around you, you’re put off by Percy’s scrutinizing stare. “Look, it’s been a pretty weird day so I cannot tell if you’re joking or not.”

“I’m not a mermaid,” you snipe, throwing Chris a dirty look. “People just call me that because I give swimming lessons here.” You stick your hand out to the blonde boy. “Nice to meet you, Percy.”

He gives a polite nod, a little awkward. “Right back at ya.” The two of you study each other as you shake. He’s young, probably about twelve, a smatter of freckles across his face. His eyes look like the lake. Something itches in the back of your brain. There’s a moment where the shake is suspended, neither of you have let go but are no longer actively holding on, and you see it in his face that he’s studying you, too. Huh.

The conversation continues as normal, but you almost start to feel queasy for a second. “We’re trying to find something Percy’s good at,” Luke says with a pat on Percy’s shoulder. “You got any ideas?”

“Yes, please, because I really would like to have a word with my father,” Percy clips. “Is Glory, like, purely a skill thing or can I get some if I tie someone else’s shoes or something?”

“I don’t have shoes,” you add unhelpfully.

“It’s okay, dude,” Luke squeezes Percy’s shoulder. “Camp is great, no matter where you end up.”

Even if you’re like her, he means without saying. Even if you don’t end up anywhere.

You meet Luke’s eyes. This is a kid that wants so badly to meet his father, to ease the ache inside him. You are the absolute worst person for this. One of the longest current unclaimed streaks and your ache remains. To Percy, you’re the biggest example of a failure there is, and Luke is only just now realizing it.

“Maybe try the infirmary?” You pipe, shuffling back and forth on the sand. “You might have a knack for medicine.”

“Doubt it,” Percy swallows. “But yeah, okay. Who’s your parent, again?”

Percy can’t see it, but Luke and Chris send you a shifty look and all you can do is widen your eyes to be like, Help! Don’t make me crush his dreams! I don’t want another kid to hate me!

You swallow. No matter how fast you think, you cannot come to a logical sentence. “I, uh—”

Just then, in another stroke of luck (wow, that’s two more than usual) an Athena counsellor that looks insanely disgruntled is running towards you. “Stolls put spiders in our cabin again,” he heaves once at a stop. “Please get rid of them.”

“Can’t you just squash ‘em?” Percy asks.

“Not the spiders, the twins.”

Chris is already nodding, but Luke looks to you first. He’s anxious, disappointed. You wish you could smooth out the creases in his brow with your thumb. “Don’t worry,” you stretch out a smile. “I’ll chill with Percy. It won’t take you guys too long.”

He’s still hesitant. You’re not sure this is a good call either. But he reaches out, quickly squeezes your shoulder and mutters, “Thank you.” Your skin feels gooey when he touches it.

His signature roguish smile returns as he looks back to Percy. The side of his face is shadowed by the sun so well it makes you jealous. “Don’t give her a hard time, eh?” He reprimands playfully.

Percy smiles a little. “I’ll try not to.”

You are once again reminded just how easy it is to love Luke. How effortlessly he moves into your heart. It happened to you after you slapped him with an oar. It’s already happening to Percy.

You’re sure he won’t like you nearly half as much.

After Luke and Chris leave, Percy resigns to staring out at the campers canoeing on the lake. Maybe now is a good time to admit you’re not good with kids. Luke has tried many times to make you his welcome partner, but you can’t take to the role nearly as well. You’re perpetually antsy. And sweaty.

“So, what cabin are you a part of that lets you do this all day?” Percy asks, squinting against the sun.

Your heart gets heavy. With a sigh, you sit yourself down, and Percy soon follows. “Hermes, actually,” you say as casually as you can.

Percy goes pale as a sheet. “Uh, what?”

“I’m unclaimed,” you clarify. “I don’t … I don’t have a parent.”

There’s always a pitiful pause whenever a camper figures that out. This one is somehow … clunkier. “Oh,” Percy says. “Oh. Okay, that makes sense. For a second I thought—phew.” Then his eyes trail down to the thread hooked around your fingers, the five beads you run your thumb over. “How long have you been here?”

“Five long, blissful years,” you hum dryly.

Water ripples over pebbles on the shore. Every new camper’s ambition is eroded by the truth you represent. Percy’s no different. His brows furrow and his face falls. “And you’ve never been claimed?” He asks, and you can feel the noxious mix of pity, confusion and despair laced beneath it.

You shake your head, watching some Demeter kids splashing each other’s canoes with their oars. “Nope. But it’s not so bad. I like my cabin, you know? I like my life. Doesn’t really matter who your parents are anyway, I think. You do the same activities as everyone else, just on different teams.”

“But doesn’t it make you mad?”

“It used to,” you shrug, “But not anymore. It’s just …” You sigh, rolling a bead against your thumb. “If I’m unclaimed, I’m unclaimed. That’s the way it is. You can’t force the Gods to do anything.”

“That’s what Luke said,” Percy remarks, almost bitterly.

“I’m a rare case though, Percy,” you half-lie to him, nudging him a bit with your shoulder. “You’ll get claimed. It’s your first day. And until then you’re kind of free to be whatever. You don’t have to fit into anything, which is kinda nice, and you can screw around as much as you want and nobody can really get mad at you ‘cause you’re new.” A smile rises on your face. “And I heard you killed a minotaur, so you’ve already got some cool points.”

His face screws up in a grimace, and it makes you laugh. “Oh joy, cool points. Can’t live without those.”

Okay, maybe you’re not bad with kids. Maybe you’re just bad with boring kids. Because this is going decent, right?

“What if I don’t get claimed, though?” Percy asks after a moment, a vulnerable note eclipsing him. It resonates inside your chest. You pause for a moment, heaving a loaded breath.

“Do you fart a lot in your sleep?”

His melancholy pauses. He looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “Uh … what? No? I think?”

“Then you can take the bunk above mine if you want. It’s empty now,” you say. “And if you’re never claimed you can come swimming with me, and we can find seashells to put under Luke’s pillow every night until he starts thinking they’ve always been there.”

Percy blinks. “Do you have any friends?”

“Yes, and I’m going to torture him until I die. Cabin eleven is oodles of fun, Percy, you’ll see!”

He looks a little horrified. “Luke said I was going to like you,” he mutters. “I … am not sure if he’s right.”

Oh, well. You’ll take it.

ii. you can't help but become the sun

You can’t sleep, and Luke knows it. His eyes burn into the side of your face as you stare up at your bunk. You sneak him a look. He smiles ruefully. Sweeping his arm up from beneath his covers, a makeshift tent is formed next to him. He nods to you. Before you know it, you’ve abandoned your own bed, taking a single step until you skirt into the pocket of his mattress Luke has carved for you. He lets the sheets fall, cocooning you with him the way he always does.

You’ve been sharing beds on occasion for years. One of you gets cold, has a nightmare, or wants to talk until your mind fades out, the only solution is a place next to each other. Whispers against cheeks, giggles muffled into pillows, necklaces knocking together. You used to be further apart. Now you can’t remember the last time Luke hasn’t latched onto you the second you’re within reach. It warms you a little more each time.

When your head hits his pillow, the two of you just stare at each other for a moment, lips pursed in amusement. His face is so wildly nostalgic to you—five years seems like too short a time to have known him. His eyes are pitch-dark and soft with exhaustion, but you can still pick out the trademark Hermes mirth glimmering through. You sometimes forget his scar, probably because you know he wants you to forget it. He’d kill you for thinking this, but you kind of like the way it hugs the curve of his cheek, bunches up when his dimple appears. It makes you sad. It makes you happy. It makes you love him.

“Percy likes you,” he whispers, opening himself up so your chin brushes his shoulder. “That’s a first.”

He’s only wearing a tank top to sleep, so his warmth seeps through his skin when you tap him on the chest. “Shut up!” You hiss back, tapering into a giggle. “Has he picked up on anything yet?”

Luke bites the inside of his cheek, regretfully shaking his head. “Nope. But all that skill stuff is kinda arbitrary anyways. He’s still hung up on kleos, though, so … that’ll come in handy for Capture the Flag.”

“Ah, yes. Using a child’s misguided need for fulfilment as a weapon. A camp classic.”

“Well someone’s gotta be useful for Capture the Flag in this cabin and it sure as hell isn’t you, mermaid,” he barbs back.

Your jaw drops in mock offense and you squeeze a hand around his shoulder to shake him. “I will put you in a headlock right now, Luke, I’ll break your arm—”

“Be quiet!” He giggles as you attempt to wrangle yourself on top of him. “I’ll be nice to you, I’ll be nice, stop!” You get absolutely nowhere before the bed creaks and Luke shoves you back down. Your pulse rattles through your mouth as you laugh silently. “You’re the worst,” he mutters in your ear, raising the hairs on your neck.

“Well Percy likes me, so,” you turn your nose to the sky like a haughty old lady.

“Percy’s a funnier, less annoying version of you,” he pokes your side. “That’s how I knew you’d get along, you weirdo.”

The momentary adrenaline this conversation has brought you is mellowing. “Hey, I’m very—very funny,” you mumble through a yawn.

Luke laughs quietly. “Sure you are.”

He pulls you back to him, arm slung around the dip of your waist. When you make no protest, he seals you against his shoulder again. It’s started to feel a little different, him holding you like this. There’s an uncertainty your body faces about how to respond. His thumb runs over your spine and you decide to relax into him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. Your chin knocks against his collarbone and you have the urge to curl yourself against his chest, just to feel him breathe.

“Get some sleep, sailor,” he murmurs, fingers brushing through the roots of your hair. You don’t think he realizes he’s doing it. Your cheeks warm, and you bury yourself even further into the space against his shoulder and his pillow. Gods, there’s something wrong with you, isn’t there?

“Will do, soldier.” The campy voice you do is half hearted at best as you find yourself absorbed in the closest thing to a full home you’ll ever get. In this sleepy hollow with bedsheets and a boy, there is acceptance.

Well, mostly. You think you dream about Luke brushing a kiss along your hairline in your last bit of consciousness. You think you wish it was real. You think you want him to do it again.

iii. when you don't know who you are, you fuck around and find out

The last time your cabin lost a game of Capture the Flag, you’d still been taller than Luke. That’s how long your winning streak has felt. There’s no reason you foresee that changing today. Even when Annabeth drags Percy along with her on whatever surely precarious quest to victory she’s created. It’s unlike her, to bring a newbie along. It’s concerning.

“He’s fine,” Luke drawls to you when your face has been tense for twenty minutes. “Annabeth’s got a plan.” He’s a little winded after clearing out some Ares kids with Chris. You aren’t much use when it comes to weapons—your friends take the lead as you wait from a distance, ready for backup. Thank the Gods they didn’t need it this time. You’re content to just watch, but whenever Luke grins after getting another kid to surrender, veins in his arms raised like rivers on a map, you get a little distracted and you’re not sure why.

You just huff back at him, totally normal when he wipes a sheen of sweat off his jaw. “Annabeth’s gonna use him as cannon fodder,” you mutter back, and Luke hits your arm with an appalled grin.

Annabeth did, in fact, have a plan. So you won. Obviously.

You’re still doubtful Percy wasn’t cannon fodder, though, with how beat up he looks on the shoreline when the rest of your team flocks to the stolen flag to claim victory. He’s slumped down on the rocky shore, a few equally beaten Ares kids straggling away from him.

“So I was right, huh?” Luke hums in your ear, pulling your eyes to him.

He’s revelling in newfound glory, and damn it, you get confused when you look at him when he’s like this. You’re not sure when it happened but you want to tear your heart out of its chest because of how sick it makes you. Some of his curls are stuck to his forehead with sweat, his hair suffering a serious case of helmet-head. But it’s the pride oozing off him, the infectious happiness laced through his smile, that makes you fond of him in a way you’re not sure you should be. He’s beloved for a reason—he looks almost prophetic after winning a match, and he knows it. A glaring difference between the gangly boy you met all those summers ago. If you weren’t his best friend, you’d probably be one of his many admirers, watching his teammates fawn over his talent and wishing you were beside him.

But you are beside him. And you’re his friend. Not an admirer. So everything’s fine.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if we lost,” you retort, knocking your chestplate against his. It’s meant to be a friendly nudge, but Luke leans into it until you swear you feel his heart beating through the metal.

He’s grown into his smile, less boyish and more wry. “You know I never lose, sailor.”

You want to reply, but his eyes are startlingly pretty in the sunlight. That’s normal. Whatever. A heat rises in the apples of your cheeks so you scoff lightly and turn away as soon as possible. You feel Luke’s gaze following as you turn attention elsewhere. Your sternum feels fluttery.

Percy catches your attention again. Gods, he looks beat. He’s talking to Annabeth as she helps him up, and you see the gnarly scrape marring his cheek. You should probably check on him, right?

You’re halfway to the kids when Annabeth shoves Percy backwards into the water. Like, shoves.

“Annabeth!” You’re scowling at her the same way she scowled at you when you first hit Luke with that oar, rushing over to help Percy.

“What is wrong with you?” Percy sputters out lying in the lake, but you’re ankles-deep in the water before you know it. He’s glaring daggers at Annabeth, but she looks relatively unimpressed. What happened during this game?

“Thanks,” Percy mutters as you help him up.

You say something to shrug it off but you can’t remember what, because your eyes are drawn to the scrape on his cheek. You have to blink a few times to get it, but you’re pretty sure it’s dissolving. Vanishing off his skin. “What the hell?”

Everyone on the shore is watching him now, trying to memorize his injuries before they wash away. Percy’s staring down at himself like he’s just been body-swapped. “I don’t understand.”

You’ve never seen anything like this before. The strangest feeling fuels you—your bones feel firmer somehow, like the blood inside your body has weight to it. Like something is happening. A fear pierces your gut.

Annabeth’s eyes have raised, and so have Percy’s. Your mouth goes dry. Right above him is the symbol of a trident, radiating so blue it washes out the sky itself.

The claiming symbol of Poseidon.

“Your dad’s calling,” Annabeth says, a smile itching the corners of her mouth.

Percy looks like he’s going to pass out. You probably do too. “Told you you’d get claimed,” you manage to squeeze the words through the knot in your chest.

You’re smiling until Percy looks at you, then looks up. His face goes white as a sheet. Or, as white as it can bathed in a pale blue glow. “Uh…” He blinks slowly, and your stomach twists. “I think she was talking to you.”

When you look up and see an identical trident looming over your head, you know something’s wrong. It’s made worse when Chiron rings out your and Percy’s name, branding you as children of Poseidon.

Poseidon.

You have a father. And he’s known you all this time. Your ears hollow out like a rush of water in a cavern.

Luke is the first to kneel. The rest of the camp follows. You watch as the entire camp basks in the glory of newcomer Percy Jackson, so quickly claimed by one of the most powerful Gods of Olympus. And you, who has waited five years to earn even a shred of his favour.

This thing you’ve wanted for so long is suddenly the greatest insult in the world. Your best friend can’t even meet your eyes.

iv. i remember who i am when i'm with you

You stare at Percy as he unpacks his things. Waiting to see traces of yourself in his face, traces of your father. Anything that could give you an inkling of what he looks like. Of what you look like. Of how this happened in the first place.

It’s a futile search. Percy’s blue eyes, his freckles, the bridge of his nose, they’re all … nothing. Half of you is half of him, but there’s no indication of which parts. The cabin is cold. You’re not going to sleep well without Luke nearby. You’re not going to sleep well ever again.

You feel nothing but strife, your throat closing in every time you take even a second to think. You don’t want Percy to see you cry. So you do what you always do.

This has to be in the running for most overwhelming day of all time ever. Even when submerged in your favourite place on earth, you can’t get away from your dad. Your dumb stupid dad that has made the things you love and has ruined your life.

You swim hard, and you loathe how good it feels. At least you know why now, but that doesn’t do much to ease you. When you pop up again, the sun has started to sink into the sea. And Gods, you have to give your dad credit. The landscape is so gorgeous you almost forget how long he’s ignored you.

You wonder if this is the last time you’ll find solace in the lake. If eventually, it’ll be nothing but an extension of your father’s neglect.

The water ripples around you. You frown, barely having noticed it when someone taps your shoulder. You turn. “Luke?” You swallow, but why are you surprised?

He’s panting, cheeks splotched with sun as he treads water, droplets worming down his face from his soaking curls. “Been looking for you,” he puffs, “Percy’s worried. Called you from the—from the thingie but don’t think you heard me.”

You assume he means the docks, but you don’t say anything as he takes a deep, grounding breath. “You’ve been out here for hours. Hours. For a second I thought you drowned.”

“Now we know that can’t fucking happen,” you mutter a touch too bitterly, staring down at your legs warped beneath the water.

Luke’s silent as he watches you. “…Have you been crying?”

When you don’t reply, Luke tugs on your wrist. “C’mon, sailor, let’s go.”

“Not tired,” you say, frozen by the hot tears brimming on your lashes.

“I’m not leaving you out here. Come on.” He frowns when you yank your hand away as he tries pulling you again. “You’re gonna get heatstroke.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

He reaches for you again and you try to reject it for a moment, but he’s stronger than you, and he loves you better than even the water could. The second he has you close your resolve falters. He holds you against his shoulder, knees knocking against yours as you tread.

“It’s okay,” he croons when you involuntarily start to cry. For a Poseidon kid, you can’t seem to control your waterworks. “It’s okay, I know.”

His hand cards through your scalp and you relish in the warmth of his bare skin on your cheek. He smells like comfort. You cling to it with all you have, until your nails start to dig into his skin and your eyesight blurs.

“Come back with me and I’ll dry you off, okay?” He kisses the top of your head, the way you dreamed it last night. “I’ll take care of it.”

You’re not sure which it he’s referring to, because it could honestly apply to anything. When you both set off for shore, you’re so distracted by your own misery that Luke’s actually able to keep up with you. He’s up on the dock before you so he can pull you out.

The second you’re out of the water you feel like you’ve been gutted with a lead pipe. All the energy it gave you leaves, and you realize just how right Luke was about spending too much time out there. You can’t feel your legs.

You buckle over almost instantly, but Luke holds you before you can even think of falling. “I’ve got you,” he assures, guiding you down to sit on the dock. Your eyes are too weak to even admire the sunset. Luke drapes a towel over your shoulders, rubbing it over your arms, a welcome familiarity. He takes his time, wringing your hair and drying your back as you gaze blankly ahead. There’s a tenderness to it now. Luke’s ruthless when it comes to a lot of things. When it comes to how he loves, too. But there’s nothing demanding here. He lets your tears fall in silence, undisturbed, the touch of his hands through the cloth a silent promise.

When you’re fairly dry, he fetches something then quickly comes back. “Here.”

It’s his shirt. You only notice you’ve been shivering as he pulls it over your head, lets you fill in the sleeves, gently gathers your hair back. “Thanks,” you say. His fingertips brush your neck as he hooks them around your necklace to rest it over the shirt. You think he does it to remind you you’re still the same. You’ve had five years together. It doesn’t have to end now.

“Why did it take him so long?” You struggle to say, eyes glossed like sea glass. “Why—why now? What did I do?”

Luke puts an arm around you. “I don’t know,” he mumbles honestly.

You sink into his warmth like a wave meets the shore. “Five years, Luke. He ignored me for five years. And he takes Percy right—right away.” It’s hard not to choke between every word. “I just thought I’d never get claimed, and I was fine with that, and now I’m … this!”

Its hard to tell if the dampness of your cheeks are the remnants of saltwater or your tears. “I don’t want this,” you sniffle. “I waited so long … and I just don’t want it.”

Luke rubs your shoulder, lips pursed against your head. He murmurs into your hair, “I know, sailor. It’ll be okay. Promise.”

His voice is reserved. You look up at him. His jaw is resolute, his eyes red-rimmed in a way you hadn’t noticed before. “You’re upset too,” you comment quietly.

He laughs listlessly. “Yeah, of course I am. I’m losing my favourite cabin mate.”

You sniff and try to smile. “Percy?”

He rolls his eyes fondly, and it feels like all you want. He squeezes your shoulders tight and you long desperately to be closer. “I just don’t know what I did wrong,” you whisper, pressing your cheek into him. “Why didn’t he see me until he saw Percy? Am I just … unremarkable or something?”

“No, no. Absolutely not—c’mere.” Luke loops an arm around your waist and manoeuvres you into his arms, cradled on his lap so you can bury your face in his neck. You can’t stop fucking crying, but his patience for you is infinite. “You are by far the most remarkable person I know.” He seals you against his chest, scratching your scalp the way he knows you like. “None of this is you, okay? Your dad’s an idiot. You are—you’re everything. They’re all mindless up there, they don’t know how to love you. They don’t deserve to.”

An edge seeps into his timbre that gives you pause. You feel weak, discarded. It sounds like he’s talking about a different person. But he’s right. He has to be, because he knows you better than you know yourself.

Luke keeps going. You peek at his face when he speaks. Stubborn as ever. “He doesn’t have any fucking right to you. If he wanted that he should’ve claimed you when you got here. You have a life. You … you had a home. And now just because he’s got another kid he kills two birds with one stone? He pretends like this is some Godly intervention? Like he didn’t ignore you the whole time you’ve been here because he couldn’t stand how much you didn’t need him? How much better you are? You’re my …” He struggles, brows furrowed, the sun melting in his eyes. “You’re my best friend, and we’re supposed to be together. He’s not allowed to take that from you.”

Your heart stirs. “Sounds like you’re jealous,” you try to tease.

Luke heaves a sigh, his muscles rippling against your chest. You’re suddenly aware of the fact that he’s got no shirt on. And that he’s pressed against you in a way that makes you question if you should be this close. Beads of water cling to the divots in his skin, and you linger a little too long on one nestled in his collarbone. You swear you think this every time he goes swimming with you: when did he get so … hot? And every time you think it, you want to gouge your heart out with a spoon.

“Can you blame me?” A melancholy smile plays on his face. “I liked having you all to myself.”

Tears spring to your eyes all over again. “I liked that too.”

It’s a whisper that sends you forward, Luke bringing his forehead to your own, and you want to live in the warmth that coils through you. His nose catches against yours when he laughs, but he doesn’t move. You take a moment to savour it. You think he does too.

He wipes a tear off your face as you say, “I’m still yours.”

“Yeah?” Luke hums a bit, his hand sliding up your waist in a most unfriendly manner. “How?”

You catch the glimmer in his eyes, that plucky smile he’s had since fourteen. Something shifts.

“What are you asking me, Luke?” You can’t fight the smile.

“What do you want me to ask you?”

“I dunno, what do you want me to want you to ask you—”

“My Gods, you’re a pain in the ass.”

He groans, throws his head back, and kisses you like you aren’t the most annoying person in the world.

It’s so cliché, but for a brief moment your strife is well worth it. You yank him closer before he pulls away. It’s a little unsure, the two of you so used to toeing the line, but soon you’ve given in and your hands are in his hair, mouths parting, and it’s messy and wanting and everything you need.

Luke slips his hands beneath the hem of your shirt, palms flattening against your sun-beaten skin. It feels so good, better because the shirt is already his, a whine scratching your throat as he moves up so his thumbs graze the skin beneath the tie in your bathing suit.

“Oh, sailor,” he coos against your mouth. You want to retaliate but it’s lost when he squeezes your thighs, warming you in all the right places. It’s hard to understand this is even happening—it feels like you’re underwater, a blissful fuzziness growing in your head entirely at his mercy.

He razes kisses down your still-damp neck, catching pearls of water on his tongue. You cling to his shoulders, raking your hands down his back just so you can feel more of him. Luke’s dropped down to your collarbone at this point, tugging the neck of your shirt down as his teeth graze the bone. “You’re my best friend,” he mutters over your skin. “Still mine. Always mine.”

“Mmhm,” is all you can say back, the husk in his voice making your eyes screw shut. He teases a spot so sensitive you groan and laugh at the same time. The regret is immediate, but you feel a chuckle pass his lips, too. “Luke,” you purse a smile. He dots kisses back up your neck until you start returning the favour.

You kiss his jaw, a few spots on his neck, feeling the flex of his muscle all around you as he squeezes the fat of your hips. You finally sweep up the water in the hollow of his collarbones, and his grunt of your name makes you, frankly, delirious.

He brings your mouth back to his, skin sticking to each other. It’s harder to kiss as fervently when you’re both giggling against each other’s tongues, running fingers along the planes of each other’s bodies trying to see which places feel new and which are known from memory. It’s a fifty-fifty split, and you love it.

Somewhere along the way he peeled off your shirt because it was clinging in places you knew he wanted, but now you’re panting and giggling into his hair, his nose pressed into your neck, both of you melded together with salt and sun. “You really know how to cheer a girl up, mailman,” you grin.

His lips fix to your skin. “Really? You’re still gonna call me that right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Like it better when you call me captain,” he murmurs, nose grazing along your pulse.

You swallow, “That doesn’t work unless we’re doing the whole sailor-ship bit.”

“We’re always doing the sailor-ship bit.”

“I seriously can’t believe I’m in love with you.”

He sighs warmly at the words. “You have no idea how much I’ve been dying for you to say that. Even though I knew you would.”

You roll your eyes as he presses his forehead to yours, and you’re more glad than ever that his face is the one you love so much. It’s a pretty great face.

“You’re gonna be okay,” he says tenderly. “You’re too incredible for Poseidon. You’re worth more than that.”

He still looks gorgeous blurred by your tears. You listen to the beat of his heart and the waves rolling. “More than any water anywhere?”

“More than the fucking Styx, sailor. I’ll promise you that.”

That night, Luke stays with you and Percy in your cold chapel of a cabin. You exchange stories until Percy falls asleep in his bed, curled up like a sea otter. “He’s a drooler,” Luke notes fondly, eyes flicking to yours. “Like you.”

You shove his chest playfully until he wraps his arms around you and anchors you to sleep, like every night before. This time, as you drift off, he kisses your forehead again. Once because he loves you, and twice to make sure you know it’s real.

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vibingandsimping · 8 months

Text

Randomly assorted headcanons (sfw+nsfw) for randomly assorted characters… pt. 2

I have yet to make a pinned post with some sort of navigation/rules guide but I will state in all my posts. Asks and Submissions are always open and if you have trouble with it comment!

Not proofread cause that’s for the weak 🥰

Characters involved: Gale, Halsin, Karlach

Tags/Forewarnings: AFAB + AMAB genitalia mentions, use of magic to enhance sex, size differences, breeding, general worshipping, oral (receiving + giving), temperature play, fingering, penetration.

Gale

Y’all love pathetic men… I support. Anyways… Tell me i’m wrong but he’d love to spoil you. We already know he practically worships the ground you walk on. You entered his life full of strife and paved a way for him to have a more hopeful future. His eyes are practically hearts when he gazes upon you. As such, he’d love to buy you and craft you things when he can. He’d buy you a gorgeous dress/vest/suit and enchant it to your liking. It feels, quite literally, like magic when you wear it. He presses kisses to your ear as he sings about how downright breathtaking you are. You hate the fact that the words make a giggle bubble in your chest.

He holds you at any opportunity he gets. In truth, he cannot fathom that you two are lovers. He’s been with a goddess before but even she did not compare to you. His pinky grazes yours as you two stand near eachother. When someone’s back turns, he presses kisses onto your cheek until you forcibly push him away. Which he always uses his puppy eyes as a retaliation to show his hate. Curse those big brown eyes. If you’d let him, he’d be more intimate without being inherently sexual. His hands glide along your skin as he helps you bathe in a nearby river or lake. Occasionally he whispers about how perfect you are to him, inside and out.

Personally, this man is the male version of a wine aunt. Once he feels that he can unwind in the camp without facing repercussions, he likes to get delightfully tipsy. Enough that his skin warms and his tongue loosens. He laughs along with the companions and makes chatter in the quiet camp. If you happen to grace him with your presence, he sings out your name and beckons you forth. To his surprise, you settle next to him on the bedroll and he wraps an arm around your waist. Squeezing you tight as he presses his nose against the pulse in your neck. He murmurs almost incoherently but you can tell from the tone of his voice it was sweet nothings.

When the camp is silent and everyone is asleep, he enjoys the thrill of seeking you out. He finds you in your bedroll and gently shakes you awake, claiming he desires you and cannot sleep. If you are so kind to spare your sleep and indulge him, he promises he’ll make it worth your time. You two trail off to somewhere more secluded before he grasps you by the waist and presses his lips onto yours. His lips aren’t too rough against yours but pleasantly warm. His fingers dance along your skin, trailing the expanse of your stomach. Suddenly, he’s whispering against your lips. You can’t tell if he’s worked you up properly or if he’s genuinely speaking nonsense. Then, a sudden and intense shiver runs through your body. He smirks at you slightly and you cannot help the excitement in your veins.

You’d nearly forgotten about the strange shiver that encompassed your body until you were on your knees in front of him. His expression held a soft intimacy yet a deep desire. He was anything but pure… just so willing for your attention and love. His cock would throb before you in a silent plead for touch. You wrap your hand around the base before wrapping your lips around the tip. He gasps softly at the sensation whilst your eyes widened. As you touched him, there was a tingle in your own loins. It was shockingly intense and you mentally cursed this man for the effect he had on you. Steeling yourself, you began to work on his shaft. Suckling, licking, stroking… all while breathy gasps and whimpers escaped his chest. The tingle in your body didn’t dissipate- no, it only grew stronger. That’s when you gazed up at him in realization. His gaze was knowing and a little dark. The bastard charmed you… so that all the pleasure he experienced you’d experience and vice-versa. So that you two were properly intermingled for all the pleasure indulged that night.

He takes a certain pleasure in finding the spots on your body that make you shake and moan. Especially those that aren’t explicitly between your thighs. If he finds a spot on your neck, or thighs, or chest that makes you whimper and grasp his hair? He’s showering it with all his attention and love until it’s practically numb. His beard tickles your skin and causes you to occasionally squirm from the sensation. He wants you as turned on and into him as he is you. You can feel his erection against your thigh as he covers your neck in hickeys. His hips occasionally grinding for some sort of friction as he focused on you. If your hand trails down to his bulge, he grabs it swiftly and holds it beside your head. His lips are swollen and wet from his kisses and his pupils are blown wide. “Not yet, please, I’m not done. Not ready for this to be over yet…” He whines and gazes at you with a certain twinkle. Who are you to tell him no? Or, maybe that’s what you want to see?

Halsin

He adores the size difference you two have. He towers over nearly everybody he knows and gotten used to being large. Honestly, it was kind of a nuisance at times. He envied others who could bed anyone without the worry of repercussions. Yet, that is a topic for discussion later down this list. Point said, he loves the feeling you provide in his chest. A protective instinct overwhelms him. No matter how soft, rugged, muscular or chubby you are. He wants to hold you and ensure you’ll be safe. The look in his eyes as you stand on your tiptoes to even reach him bending over for a kiss shows the thrill he finds in it. It’s even better when you two are cuddling and you can rest your body so comfortably ontop of his. He’ll encapsulate his arms around your form and keep you close, enjoying the thrum of your heart as you sleep.

He’d teach you how to carve wood, if you’d like. It was one of his hobbies and for you to show interest in it only reminds him of how fine a specimen you are. He’s careful as he teaches you, watchful eyes constantly glancing and staring over your shoulder as your thumbs turn the wood and the knife makes shavings. His hands wrap around yours and guide you when you struggle or use improper technique. His chest slotted against your back as he hums softly, paying no mind to how flustered you’d get. When you finish your first lesson, you both show off the sculptures you made. He’s thoroughly impressed and praises whatever you decided to carve. Later, you find it on a table in his tent. The sight makes your chest tighten and heart soar. He loves you so utterly deeply.

He craves you so desperately it is almost amusing. Your touch, your voice, your presence. He doesn’t outwardly express it but there’s a certain air around him when you approach. His gaze softens as his chest puffs and he watches you expectantly. Despite all the lovers he’s taken in his years, you’d swear he looks like he’s fallen in love for the first time. He’s nearly whipped by you. No-one has seemed so enraptured by you before. Each word you speak he’s hung unto, he watches all your movements so closely. Halsin makes sure to wrap you tightly in his hugs. Both to show you that he loves all of you and to remind you of the fact he wishes to protect you. He knows his boundaries and doesn’t follow you like a lost puppy… but when you seek him of your own accord he’s utterly thrilled.

This man is a breeder. Don’t argue with me on it. He seeks all the thrills and pleasures of nature. Regardless of if you can or cannot get pregnant, he stuffs you so full that in your haze you are sure you’ll carry his kid. He tries so hard to be gentle with you and to some degree he is. His hands trail your skin softly like you were fine china. Though, he allows himself the pleasure of gripping your curves, dips and muscles. While he holds you so gently, you cannot say the same for where he’s pushing his length into. It’s vigorous- almost mind-numbing. He groans into your ear shamelessly and with the knowledge you find it attractive. If you’d let him, he’d give into his desires and fill you til he was sure he had nothing else left to give. He’d pick you up after and bathe you. Washing you of the forest dirt and sweat accumulated on your skin. All while whispering about how he adores you and you’ve done so well for him.

We all know he’s a munch/dick eater. It’s literally confirmed in his sex scene that he immediately goes down on you… and for that I will write for.

AFAB. He’ll hook a thigh over his shoulder and press his nose against the bump of your cunt. His tongue lavishes your clit in licks and suckles as his gaze remains heady on yours. If you can even look at him, that is. One hand trails on the leg you’re standing on before teasing your parted lips. He gathers your wetness and pushes a singular finger inside. He watches as your body tenses and relaxes from his ministrations. His tongue does not stop it’s assault. Then it’s two fingers, hooking and searching for the spot that he knows will make you abandon previous care. Once he finds it, you’re crying out to the woods. His large fingers practically abuse your walls as he sucks your clit like a madman. You began to whimper and shake in his hold. His strength became apparent when he pushes your hips against the tree to keep you still. To show that you cannot escape his pleasure and act of love. Pride swells in his chest and he keeps going until you’re shuddering in his hold. The coil in your belly snapping as hands fly down to grasp his hair, hips rocking against his face.

AMAB. There’s a smirk that engraves his face when he sees exactly how hard you’d gotten for him. His hands wrap around your thighs as he trails kisses along the skin of your stomach. Then, as soon as you open your mouth to protest, a kiss is placed on the tip. You tense and he begins to show your length some attention. One hand abandons your thigh to favor your sack, gently fondling as his kitten licks and kisses turn into something more intense. Lips wrapping around the head before taking you in one gulp. Your head throws back and your thighs quiver. Either he had tons of experience or you were simply smaller in comparison and he could do it with ease. Either way, the warmth of his throat is nearly overwhelming to your senses. He looks up between your legs when he could, bobbing his head as you began to melt into the pleasure. His nails gently scratched the skin of your thigh while his other continued it’s undivided attention to the sensitive skin of your balls. He continues like this, humming and suctioning around your cock until you either spill down his throat or pull him off of you. Either way, he has a cocky smile on his face as he wipes spit and precum from his lips.

Karlach

She is a very passionate woman. She burns bright, literally and metaphorically, and is a flame that will forever burn by your side. She is especially passionate about her companions and most importantly you. She supports you in nearly every decision you make and if she doesn’t agree, she tries to understand anyways. She’s loud and speaks so highly of you to those she meets. Almost like a mother showing off her kids accomplishments in life. She’d likely be such a good mother if she ever had that opportunity. Until you fix her mechanical heart she supports you with just words and actions. As much as she craves to pull you into her grasp or press her lips on yours, she’s a ticking bomb and is capable of hurting those. When you do fix it? She can barely keep her hands and lips off you. Ten years of forced abstinence nearly drove her MAD. While she doesn’t outright burn you, she’s so, so warm.

She loves jamming out. Dancing, playing an instrument, singing… it gives her an excuse to release her pent up energy. Bard or not, she gives you those puppy eyes and nearly begs you to join her. She’ll dance with you and wrap her arms around your waist or hold your hand as you two dip and twirl. Her laugh is an angelic sound and any reservations you held melted away in her intense heat and passion. She had a way of lighting the room up and bringing out the best in those around her. You admired her for it. She eventually slows the rhythm between you two and smiles against your skin (hunched over or not). She whispers against you, light and full of emotion. “You have no idea how thankful I am to have met you. I feel complete.” The breath you take is shaky as her words fill you with such fullness. This tiefling had wormed her way into your heart like the tadpole your mind. Except, this was a worm you wished to keep. You both would do anything for each other and you both knew it.

She absolutely seethes when anyone does you dirty. The girl is quite literally growling when someone hurts you emotionally or physically. Even a wrong look can have her hackles raising and her all pissed. You sometimes have to sit her down and remind her that you’re fine. She assures you’re safe and you appreciate it. After losing so much in her life, the control of her own body and mind, she cannot imagine losing you. Small threats alarm her and she feels guilty that she cannot contain her emotions. This time you assured her that you weren’t going anywhere because she was passionate and hot-headed. You two had your own issues… and she wants nothing more than to work through them together and be the biggest supporters for each other. She pulls you into a bear hug afterwards, nuzzling against your jaw as her horn tangles in your hair. She plants kisses along the skin til you’re laughing and the air is less tense between you two.

As much as she so UTTERLY wishes to touch you, she’s so touch deprived. You know that she needs the attention after she’s had her heart repaired. You lay her down on the ground and trail kisses from her lips down to her throat and to her chest. She watches you with an excitement. It appears as if she was ready to jump out of her skin from the pure joy of being able to enjoy the sensations of flesh once more. You pay extra attention to her breasts and nipples before continuing further down to her navel. At this point, she’s squirming and whimpering desperately. “Come on, babe. Don’t tease me. I need you- so badly..” Her tone was pathetic if anything. There was no true fight or bite in her words. She liked giving her submission to you for once, letting her mind shut down. You wished nothing more than to give her what she deserved after all this time.

Once you finally reach further south, your hands slot around her hips and hold them down as you plant a few kisses against the inner of her thigh. All the teasing between you two was so worth it when you hear the wanton moan escape her lips as your tongue finally met her most sensitive parts. The heat of her cunt was intense- just like the rest of her. It was nearly overwhelming… almost burning your tongue. Yet, you ached for that warmth. To finally enjoy her moans and provide her with such pleasure. She has claws in your hair, tugging and tickling your scalp. One hand on her chest as you begin a rhythm with your tongue against her clit. Once she was beginning to properly fall apart against your mouth, you released a hand from her hip and trailed betwixt her lower lips. Your fingers sought her warmth and was pleasantly surprised with how she burned even hotter inside. Truly a creature of the hottest hells. Yet, it didn’t quite burn you… certainly was a different sensation compared to the crisp air around you. You know that she’ll return this pleasure tenfold to you. It’s her nature… and you couldn’t wait til you two were properly intertwined later in the night.

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 months

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Steve Harrington x fem!reader [4.2K] loosely based on the movie float, lifeguard!steve, a summer full of swim lessons. mentions of drowning, eventual smut 18+

SWIM LESSON SCHEDULE

LESSON #1

“Oh, come on,” the guy coaxed, voice wheedling and a little slurred.

You didn’t really know him, a friend of a friend's cousin who was visiting from out of town but he’d been cute enough to entertain five beers ago. He’d grown sloppier now, a little leery, his hand around your wrist as he udder you towards the dock that overlooked Lover’s Lake.

You’d dug your heels in, smiling through your teeth as you shook your head and tried not to spill the cheap wine Robin had brought down the front of your shirt. The small beach that was hidden in a cove was surrounded by trees, green in the summer, full and making the crescent moon strip of land perfect for a bonfire and for some drinking.

There were small crowds of people all over the sandy patch, sitting on blankets and cheap camping chairs, familiar faces lit by the small fire, people you didn’t know as well lingering between, bare feet on the edge of the shoreline.

You’d came with Eddie, riding in the front seat of his van with a rucksack full of corner store liquor on your lap, the smell of weed coming off strong from the pocket inside his leather jacket.

“A night full of potential clients, sweetheart, please,” he’d pleaded with you, brown button eyes wide. “The Jacksons have their cousins over from the backass of Georgia, they’ll pay for the rest of our summer if I show them the good shit.”

So you’d agreed, albeit grudgingly, letting your best friend haul you off your sofa and to the get together that you didn’t really want to go to. But Robin was there, and Nancy too, a few people you hadn’t seen since senior year, back for the summer to visit their folks and well - it wasn't all bad.

Then the evening faded into night and the lavender skies turned inky, the same shade as the lake water. And when people got a little looser, whisky and bud light warming their veins, they laughed as they stripped down to mismatched underwear and dove off the dock, splashing and shrieking in water you couldn’t see the bottom of and god—

You’d, grimaced, turning away from the shoreline and sticking close to Eddie, the boy’s arm always brushing your own even when he was busy dealing, twenties fisted in his hand as he passed over baggies to a twenty something girl you’d never seen before.

But then that guy found you, relatively sober and sweet until he wasn’t, sloppy with his arm around your neck, breath smelling like smoke and beer and he was pulling you towards the people in the water, telling you it was all part of the fun. You’d protested immediately, intensely, eyes wide as the water came closer and your feet hit the wooden planks of the dock.

Between the gaps, you could see black, dark water rippling, the moon overhead glinting white off the tips of the current. Eddie hadn’t noticed you were gone until the stranger had dragged you half way down the decking. Your wrist burned from how tight he held it, how hard you tried to twist it from his grasp.

“Hey— hey!” Eddie had barked out, loud and brash and aggressive enough to make a lot of people around him startle. He broke free from the circle that had gathered around him, lips set in a snarl and determination in his eyes. You knew fine well that when Eddie got his hands on this guy, it wasn’t going to be pretty. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Let her fucking go—”

But Eddie couldn’t reach you in time, not when his boots dug too deep into the sand and there were too many people to push out of the way. The guy laughed at a joke you weren’t a part of and then he pushed.

Your arms swung wildly, windmilling as gravity took over, your balance gone and you were too near the edge of the dock to do anything about it. Your hands grabbed at the air, fingertips just brushing your new acquaintances shirt and his grinning face and beer blurred eyes were the last thing you saw before you back hit the water.

It was as dark underneath the surface of the lake as it was above it, an icy shock despite how warm the day had been, how the heat still lingered in the night. You gasped, immediately inhaling, murky water filling your mouth and throat and you kicked, hoping that the direction your hands were clawing in was up.

But nothing happened and your body didn’t move.

On the beach, people were murmuring, too drunk to consider the consequences, too stoned to fly into action. Besides, only seconds had passed. Bubbles were floating in the spot you’d gone under, ripples evidence of the fact that you’d once been there. Eddie was sweating, shoving at people as he ripped off his leather jacket and prepared to vault himself onto the water after you but someone at the bottom of the deck beat him to it.

Steve Harrington had dropped his beer at the first sign of the commotion, his part in the conversation with Jonathan Byers and his friend from California dying off as he turned to watch a guy he didn’t know drag you down the dock. The stranger had been laughing but you hadn’t, and before he could say something, Steve only had a second to look at the absolute horror on your face before you were forced backwards and into the lake.

He was on his feet immediately, facing back up the dock to where you’d disappeared from, watching wildly for signs of you returning to the surface. And then Eddie was yelling at him, pushing past some underage kids from out of town, half of his jacket hanging from his shoulders and he was yelling.

“Steve! Steve, she can’t fuckin’ swim, man—”

If Eddie finished the sentence or said anything else, Steve didn’t hear it. He launched himself off of the side, hitting the cold water with a splash he didn’t hear. Water filled his ears and fuck, he could barely see. But somewhere a little below him there was a flash of white from your shirt that had tangled itself up around your neck, your arms flailing wildly as you tried your damn hardest to kick up the way.

Steve had grabbed your arm, your panic making you slip before he curled his fingers around your wrist and then you were being hauled against him, your back to his chest as he moved with a confidence you could never imagine for yourself. You’d been under for a minute, maybe a little more, maybe a little less, but Steve had your head breaking the surface of the lake in seconds. You were gasping and coughing, your fingernails tattooing half moon lines in Steve’s forearm as you held onto him, fear gripping you as hard as you did him.

You thought you’d heard his voice, a low murmur in your ear that was fuzzy from the water lodged there, from the buzz and clamour that had then awoken on the beach as the music stopped and people were gathered by the shoreline.

Eddie had been knee deep in the water, readily meeting you and Steve as the boy swam closer with you, and once your feet hit the sandy bottom, you lurched forward, hands held out to grab Eddie’s waiting ones.

Steve’s were on your back, keeping you upright and steady until he saw that Eddie had you. You and Steve were both dripping and Eddie was swearing, his cheeks red and his eyes wide, unsure whether to rush you to his van first or hunt down the creep that had put you in danger in the first place.

But Nancy was rushing forward with a blanket, wrapping it around your shoulders and taking in your chattering teeth and panicked stare, the vice-like grip you had around Eddie’s fingers. “He’s gone,” she said to the boy. “He ran off when he saw Steve dive in. Just get her home, Eddie.”

Steve Harrington had ended up in the front bench with you in Eddie’s van, your shivering frame sandwiched between both boy’s and no one said anything until you all got back to Eddie’s trailer.

You hadn’t said anything as you’d headed for a hot shower, your wet clothes slapping on the bathroom tiles as you had stripped, slimy weeds and grains of sand stuck to your cold skin and your hands were still shaking as you twisted the squeaky handle to turn the water up hotter still.

And when Eddie was ripping his room apart for dry clothes for you and Steve to change into, his eyes watery with anger, his throat tight with rage, Steve had been leaning against his door frame with his arms crossed over his damp chest.

“We’ll get him,” he’d said quietly, just in case you could hear above the spluttering of the old pipes. “We’ll find out who he was and— and we’ll deal with him and then I’m gonna teach her how to swim, alright?”

Eddie nodded, movements sharp and jerky and he handed Steve a pair of black sweatpants and an old Metallica shirt.

“Alright?” Steve had repeated, chin ducked to make Eddie meet his gaze. He had been so serious. “I’m gonna give her lessons. This won’t happen again.”

The sky was still half pink as you biked down the empty sidewalk.

A blue-lilac colour, softer than you’d usually witness due to the early morning hour. The sun was still low, the town still asleep, the watch on your wrist telling you the seven am was still to come. Your bike chain whirred softly, brakes squeaking as you slowed by the chain link fence.

Hawkins community pool was sun bleached and well loved, the old bunting that draped over the water barely red and blue, the shutters for the food stand still rolled down and locked. The aquamarine slide was now more white and it looked like it would give you an infection if your skin was to snag on one of the exposed bolts. But the gate was open, only just, and you sucked in a deep breath as you let your bike lean against the wall.

Chlorine filled your nose as you walked in, the generator humming and the pool filter trickling, the sun loungers empty and still stacked against the changing rooms. Despite your early wake up call, the air was already warm, a humid kind of heat that Indiana summers brought, sticky and sweet smelling, like someone had left a jug of peach tea on their porch all day.

The tiles that surrounded the pool were wet, recently hosed down and cleaned, and your sneakers slapped noisily as you walked towards the waters edge. You didn’t go too close, not at all, grimacing at the bright blue rectangle like it would force you in itself. It seemed somehow more menacing when it was still, a glasslike surface reflecting the cotton candy sky above it, no splashing and screaming kids to fill its depths.

Then a boy appeared - no, more man than boy - from the staff building.

He had red shorts on, the fabric sitting above his knees and an old white shirt that you assumed must’ve once said “lifeguard.” He was barefoot and tanned, sunglasses sitting on the bridge of his nose and he didn’t even notice you at first, too busy hanging a net back onto the wall.

Steve Harrington was pretty and tall and he had really good hair. He was quieter than when you’d know him in high school, softer looking than he’d once been. But you didn’t really know him and he didn’t really know you. But he was friends with Eddie and you were friends with Eddie, so somehow, someway, that meant you were kind of, almost friends with him too.

Except you weren’t and you had no idea why you’d agreed to this.

“You can change in there.”

You hadn’t expected his voice, so you startled, arms wrapping tighter around your body and crushing the small rucksack that housed your suit and towel. You frowned at the idea, because changing meant one step closer to going into the water and you weren’t quite sure you wanted to do that yet.

So you said nothing.

Steve just watched you from across the pool, brows raised. And then he shrugged and muttered something that sounded like “suit yourself,” before he threw his sunglasses onto a plastic chair and tugged his shirt over his head.

You’d barely gotten a chance to really look at the quick flash of tanned, bare skin he exposed before he dove into the water, barely causing a ripple. You were slack jawed as you watched him move seamlessly below the surface, his body a pretty shade of blue as his muscles flexed, strong back and broad shoulders stretching as he swam.

When he reappeared, much closer to you, Steve braced his forearms on the edge of the pool and dragged a hand through his wet hair, strands of it plastered to his forehead, water clinging to his lashes.

You didn’t know where to look.

“You’re not going to learn much if you don’t take your clothes off.”

Despite the way his words warmed you, skin heating up the same way the morning was, you scowled. You didn’t want to be here. Not at the pool, not around water, not with Steve Harrington and certainly not at seven in the morning on a Saturday.

And now you were standing under the morning sun and the same boy that saved you from the lake was squinting up at you from the pool below and you were only really here because Eddie had begged you.

It had been a whole week and you could still taste lake water on the back of your tongue.

“Changing rooms are over there,” Steve motioned to the building behind you with a tilt of his head.

You tried not to look at him, or the water, when you nodded tightly, dragging yourself off to the ladies section. And when you came back out, the sun had risen just a little more and Steve was still in the pool, floating easily on his back as he used his arms to move slowly around the water. The rays were glinting off of the water and him, toned shoulders and soft stomach glittering with water droplets and suddenly the pool seemed an even scarier place to be.

The old swimsuit you’d managed to pull on was a little on the tight side, all black and supposed to be modest if the too small size hasn’t been cutting into the swells of your ass and chest. It had been a good few years since you’d had reason to put it on, and even then, you hadn’t gone near water. A beach day on the Fourth of July with enough space between you and the ocean that you hadn’t even minded the sand too much.

So you stood with your arms crossed over your chest, trying to hide the expanse of skin there, your knees pressed together and you looked downright mournful about your current predicament. If Steve hadn’t remembered the fear in your eyes that night in the lake as you scrambled for him under the water, he would’ve cracked a joke or two.

Instead, he swam over to you cautiously, fingers curling around the edge of the pool as he swiped his wet hair from his forehead. “Hey,” he began gently. The town still hadn’t woken up yet, not really. It was just Steve’s voice and the hum of the pool filter, some cicadas buzzing in a bush behind the far side of the fence. “Nothing bad is going to happen, alright? Not here.”

You looked at him like you didn’t believe him, eyes wide and lips drawn into a tight line. You didn’t move an inch. And it wasn’t because you didn’t trust him, not really. You were exactly friends but Steve was close with Eddie and if Eddie trusted him— well. He got an automatic pass from you too.

Eddie didn’t trust a whole lot of people.

But the problem wasn’t Steve. It was most definitely the rectangle full of blue water, shimmering and pretty as it was, it looked deep, the slope of it going downdowndown and Steve’s body was distorted under the ripples, his legs looking broken and mangled, the surface lapping way too high across his shoulders and neck.

Your body felt like lead, a dead weight ready to sink to the pool floor, legs unable to push yourself back up.

You took a step back.

“Okay,” Steve sighed and he tried really hard to not sound impatient. The day had barely begun and he’d make a promise to Eddie, one he really didn’t want to break. “We’ll take it back a little, yeah? Come over here.”

You watched as he pulled himself out of the pool with an impressively low amount of effort. The muscles in his shoulders and back bunched up and he swung a leg onto the tiles before standing, water dripping off of him, cool and splashing your toes. He made a point of not looking at your and all your bare skin as he walked around the edge of the pool, right towards the back of the lot where there was a set of stairs that led into the shallow end.

He didn’t look over his shoulder to check if you were following and you only hesitated for a second or two before you did. And when he reached the top of the steps, he waited for you and held out his hand, brows raised expectantly.

You stared back.

The water didn’t look as scary here, but not by a whole bunch. It was lighter blue, the white tiles on the bottom of the pool about more visible and the numbers that were flaking and painted on the side of the wall said the depth was only two and a half feet.

You could drown in less, the voice in your head told you. It sounded a lot like your mom.

So you kept your arms crossed for a little while longer, teeth gnawing unkindly at your bottom lip. Steve just waited, hand extended palm up and after a minute had passed, he took one step into the pool, standing ankle deep in the water on the top stair. He caught your eye then, smiling in what he hope was a reassuring way.

“D’you trust me?” He asked, eyes squinting in the bright sun. There was a mole on his cheek that disappeared into the lines of his skin when he smiled. “S’okay if you don’t yet, but, I’m a lifeguard here, so like, legally? I can’t let you die.”

You surprised both yourself and the boy when you snorted unexpectedly, a sharp sound of amusement that you used a hand to cover up. But it seemed to encourage Steve, ‘cause he positively beamed at you, his hand wiggling, vying for your own.

“C’mon, I promise I won’t let you go,” he swore. He leaned further forward, his fingers close enough to brush the softness of your stomach, if he so pleased. He didn’t. “We’ll start nice and easy today, alright?”

It felt momentous, when you slid your hand into his. He was still warm despite his pool damp skin, like the sun lived inside his bones. He grinned, victorious, nodding encouragingly when you moved to the edge of the steps.

“We’ll do them one at a time, alright?” Steve moved to stand in front of you, his other hand catching your free one until he was guiding you closer and closer to the water, walking himself backwards with every step you took forward. You flinched when your foot hit the first step, the water warmer than you’d anticipated, brushing up just past your ankle.

You had two feet in the pool and two hands in Steve Harrington’s and it felt like the entire world was about to implode on you.

“There you go,” Steve murmured, warmth and a little hum of pride in his voice. “See? S’not bad, right? I’ve still got you.” So you took another step and another and suddenly the water was lapping at your knees. You froze, grip tightening around Steve’s fingers and your wide eyes found his, all too aware of the way you were very much in the pool now.

“Hey, hey,” Steve’s thumbs rubbed over the back of your knuckles, the skin there burning from holding him so tightly. “Listen. Do you trust me?”

There was no joke that followed the question this time. His eyes were earnest and warm, serious as they looked at you, searching your face for any signs that you were going to flee. It took you a few seconds, swallowing dryly and taking a deep, staggering breath before you nodded. You did, you did trust him, and that was as surprising as you being in the pool.

“Yeah,” you told Steve, voice a little weak and hoarse. “Yeah, I trust you.”

He squeezed your fingers and his smile was gentle, an achingly kind thing that made your eyes water in the corners and Steve let you stand on that middle step for a little while longer. “Good,” he finally said and his voice was as soft as yours had been. You tried not to look at the way the chain around his throat caught the sunlight, the silver turning golden, just like his skin. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?”

You nodded, feverish and your movements jagged and you tore your eyes from Steve to look at your bare feet on the steps, your toes waving under the ripples, longer and skinnier and then fatter and wider. The sight made you dizzy, stomach tumbling a little but even still, you wished you’d had the forethought to paint your toenails something pretty.

“Two more steps, alright?”

Steve’s encouragement broke your senseless wanderings and you nodded again, words caught in your throat and he was leading you forward, hands wrapped around your own and he grinned when you took another step down, the water hitting your upper thighs. It was cooler as you went deeper, a stark contrast to the warm, sticky air above it and your skin prickled, mouth falling in a quiet gasp. Another step, happening almost too fast for you to overthink it, the water at your hips and making you swear as you rose onto your toes almost instinctively.

Steve laughed, not unkindly, as you moved closer to him, unthinking as your hands left his in favour of clinging to his upper arms. It felt safer like that, anchoring yourself to his solid frame, but there was so much bare skin involved and not a lot of space left between you both as you held on for dear life. His fingertips brushed the sides of your waist before he must’ve thought better of it, cheeks burning before his hands cupped your elbows and he took a little step back so your chest didn’t touch his.

“You’re alright,” he murmured. “You did it, yeah? That’s it. You’re in.”

Steve was grinning and you tried to smile too, trying to feel proud of your little accomplishment but the rest of the pool was stretched out behind Steve’s shoulder and the water there was so much more blue, cerulean leading into indigo until you couldn’t see the bottom anymore.

Steve must’ve noticed cause he shook his head, the hand cupping your elbow smoothing up your arm until he squeezed, water dripping from his palms and coasting down your skin. “Hey, hey, none of that. That’s for another day. We’re staying here, alright?”

You grimaced at the idea of ‘another day,’ but his words still didn’t ease you. You licked at your lips, dots of chlorine on them and despite how stupid you felt, you asked anyway. “What if— what if l, like, float over that way? Accidentally.”

Steve smiled like he couldn’t help himself, laughter in his eyes and a grin that he quickly tamed. “We’re not gonna catch any waves in here, this isn’t Maui,” he was still smiling, teasing, just a little. But sensing your growing worry, he continued. “And if that had to happen - which it won’t - I’ll come and get you.”

You stared at him, heartbeat in your throat and so many other questions on your tongue. They died there, fizzing into nothing as Steve held your gaze, a silent promise in his brown eyes. You’d never noticed how long and thick his lashes were, still wet and spiky from when he’d been swimming as you changed.

Maybe there was doubt in your eyes, or maybe Steve just felt the need to reiterate his statement, but when he said once more, “I’ll come get you, just like last time,” you really did believe him.

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