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slu7formen · 2 months

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MDNI. luke x fem!reader

you’re back at camp after your quest with Luke, but your mind can’t seem to be able to forget what happened days ago like Luke has, and you’re in the need of a private conversation to clarify some things, and that’s all it has to be, a conversation… right?

part two to this fic <3

warnings: injuries, cursing, arguing, s3x, oral s3x (f receiving), non protected p in v, kissing, biting, slight fluff at the end, kinda dom!luke

lil taglist for those who asked for part two 🫶🏻: @pocototis , @amortiff , @angelfrombeneth , @niceskyler , @onegirlonewriter

₊˚⊹♡

Exhausted. That feeling was clinging to you and Luke like a second skin as you limped back into Camp Half-Blood with Percy and Annabeth at your side. The quest, a blur of adrenaline and monster-slaying, had been a success, but victory came at a price. Luke, his face pale despite the fading sunset, sported a nasty gash across his thigh, a souvenir from an unfortunate encounter with a particularly grumpy cyclop. You, on the other hand, cradled your right arm close to your chest, the throbbing pain in your shoulder escalating with every step.

Despite the aches and groans echoing within your small group, a sense of triumph resonated in the cheers that erupted from the campers milling about the Half-Blood Hill. Your arrival sparked a wave of excited chatter, a flurry of questions about the details of your adventure. The camp bustled with activity, a comforting normalcy after the chaos they'd faced.

"Whoa, guys, you look rough" Grover noted with concern as he approached you. He cast a worried glance at your injured arm.

The Apollo cabin had taken good care of you both. Lee Fletcher, the ever-patient son of Apollo, had fussed over Luke's wound with practiced ease, the gash healing miraculously fast under his ministrations.

"Luke, your cut isn't too bad" Lee declared to him, his voice calm despite the urgency in his eyes. "Just needs some ambrosia and nectar, and you'll be good as new."

You, however, were a different story.

"Dislocated and a hairline fracture" Lee had declared with a frown, his touch surprisingly gentle as he manipulated your injured shoulder back into place. "You've been harboring that injury for a few days now, haven't you?"

You winced, your face flushing slightly. Between the adrenaline rush of the quest and… what happened with Luke, your shoulder was the last thing you thought about besides the pain. "Uh, yeah" you stammered, ashamed even towards the younger camper.

Lee sighed, a hint of exasperation in his eyes, but he gave you a soft smile. “You´ll heal quick, don´t worry, but not as quickly as Luke. You'll have to stay a while longer."

Those "whiles" had stretched into two agonizing days. Two days spent staring at the whitewashed ceiling, the silence broken only by the steps of Apollo campers around you or at the Big House. The days blurred by in a haze of rest and ambrosia.

But you couldn´t stop thinking about Luke.

That-, thing that happened all of a sudden, a moment of raw emotion and desperate vulnerability, replayed endlessly in your mind. The memory of his touch, the warmth of his breath tangling with yours, sent shivers down your spine. It was a betrayal, not just of the rivalry that defined your relationship with Luke, but a betrayal of yourself. You weren't supposed to feel this way about him, the enemy, the bane of your existence.

But the morning after, you just acted as if nothing had happened, you never talked about it. The tension was your new best friend now, a suffocating weight that you couldn't seem to escape. How could you go back to the way things were after experiencing that spark of something —what felt like— more?

Frustration simmered within you. Ignoring what you both experienced felt like burying your head in the sand. Did it mean anything to him? Was it just a fleeting moment of desperation, a shared vulnerability in the face of danger?

Finally, the day arrived when Lee, with a practiced smile and a reassuring pat on your shoulder, declared you fit for duty. Relief washed over you, tinged with a nervous excitement. You practically stumbled out of the infirmary, the familiar sights and sounds of camp a welcome symphony after the sterile monotony of your confinement.

Your eyes scanned the crowded pavilion, searching for the shock of dark and braided hair that always seemed to set your nerves alight. You spotted Annabeth only because she ran to you as soon as she saw you. She pulled you in a hug that almost broke your bones.

"There you are!" she exclaimed. The concern etched on her face as if you had spent three weeks away from her. "How are you feeling? How’s your shoulder?”

“It´s good now, Lee took good care of it” you explained, walking back to the pavilion with her.

The well-wishes of the fellow campers offered a comforting sense of normalcy. Yet, your gaze remained fixed on the Hermes table, searching for a specific face.

"Where's Luke?" you finally asked Annabeth, a knot forming in your stomach.

"Right behind you” came the voice you knew too well.

He stood there, an unreadable mask plastered on his face. The air crackled with tension again, a contrast to the cheerful chatter surrounding you.

"I'm glad you're okay" he said, his voice flat. It was impossible to tell if he meant it or if it was simply a polite formality.

"Same thing" you replied, not really trying your best to put on show for the rest of the campers, or him.

A curt nod was all the reply you received, the gesture felt like a handshake from a stranger. He then turned and walked away, disappearing back to the Hermes table where his half-siblings awaited him.

You settled down at your own table, the clatter of silverware and chatter a welcoming difference to the sterile silence of the infirmary. You reached for the so sacred mashed potatoes you loved, but your appetite seemed to have vanished. Your gaze kept flitting towards the Hermes table, drawn to the mop of dark hair that seemed to defy gravity. He was there, talking with his half-siblings, a faint smile playing on his lips. Sometimes his gaze drifted towards you, his had features tightening, before he quickly looked away. Other times, you'd find his face turned elsewhere, lost in conversation with Chris or the Stoll brothers, who sat in front of him.

One of your cabin half-sisters leaned over, her voice filled with excitement in your ear. "There's supposed to be a party in the woods tonight. Wanna come?"

The temptation was strong. A night of revelry with your friends sounded far more appealing than dwelling on the awkwardness with Luke. But you shook your head instead. "Nah, I think I'll pass," you said, trying to sound casual.

Truth be told, your brain was working with the precision of a well-oiled machine. A hidden party meant curious campers, prying eyes. What you needed was a private conversation, a chance to finally address the elephant in the room.

As the campers began to disperse after dinner, Taking a deep breath, you made your way towards the Hermes table. Most of the campers had already vacated, leaving only a few lingering stragglers. Luke sat alone, a half-eaten plate of food pushed to the side.

His gaze flicked up as you approached. “Ugh. What do you want?” he asks, voice coated with venom.

“Wow, you really are a sweetheart” you replied, sarcasm dripping from your voice. “We need to talk”

“What about?” he asked with indifference.

“You know damn well what about” you declared. “Or do you want me to say it, here, how you basically came all over your pan-,?”

“Don´t” he jumped out of his seat, voice dangerously angry and threatening. He looked around, secretly wishing no one around heard you. “Fine. Meet me at the back of my cabin at midnight. I´ll be there”

“Good” you stammered, walking away before anyone else could hear you or see you standing in front of Luke Castellan, talking, for more than five minutes.

The thin wind hit your bare face as you approached Cabin Eleven. The glow from the windows had long been extinguished, replaced by a deep silence that accentuated the nervous pounding in your chest. It was past curfew, a risk you wouldn't normally take, but the need to talk to Luke outweighed the consequences. After all, most campers managed to sneak out for a forbidden rendezvous, why wouldn't you be able to manage a few cabins?

Hugging the shadows, you crept past the silent cabins, your heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Reaching Cabin Eleven, you tiptoed towards the back of it, the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath your sneakers a sound far too loud in the stillness of the night.

There, leaning against the wall, stood Luke. His arms were crossed over his chest, head down and apparently, lost in thought as he waited for you. Despite the outward facade of coolness he always emerged –or so he tried—, you swore you could detect a flicker of nervousness beneath the surface, a tremor in his gaze that mirrored your own churning emotions.

"Hey" you greeted him softly.

He pushed himself off the wall, arms still crossed over his chest. "Hey. About time."

You rolled your eyes. “I am on time, dumbass”

For a moment, he seemed to be struggling internally, debating the appropriate course of action. Should he maintain his usual bravado, the cocky smirk you hated so much? Or should he shed that facade, acknowledge the vulnerability of the situation, and let it go?

"How's that shoulder?" he finally asked, gesturing towards your shoulder with his chin.

"Good as new" you replied, unconsciously shrugging your shoulder to prove your point. "How's your leg?" you asked, returning the question.

"Fully healed" he mumbled, looking down at his thigh.

The small talk felt forced, the words hanging awkwardly between you. You both knew why you were there, but the silence seemed to scream louder than any accusation. Finally, Luke cleared his throat, breaking the uncomfortable tension.

"Wanna come in?" Luke finally asked, surprising you.

You blinked, unsure if you heard him correctly. "In?" you repeated.

He nodded, his gaze flicking nervously around the clearing. "It's safer than… well, you know, someone seeing us" he muttered, trailing off. The implication was clear – safer than being caught outside after curfew, safer than prying eyes and whispers.

You considered it for a moment. It made sense. This conversation needed privacy, and venturing deeper into the night, risking further trouble, didn't seem wise.

With a silent nod, you gestured for him to lead the way. You walked towards the front door, slipping inside the cabin in your tippy toes, Luke closed the door softly behind you, plunging the room into near darkness. The silence was thick, and loud. The stage was set for a conversation that could change everything.

"Okay, shoot" Luke finally said, his voice gruff.

"What?" you replied, thrown off guard by his brusqueness.

"What do you mean 'what'?" he countered, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "You wanted to talk. So do it. Speak."

His words felt almost like a demand, and irritation sparked within you. The confident, charming facade seemed to have crumbled, leaving him exposed – unsure and flustered. While your battle-hardened self might have found humor in his discomfort, just like it did when he basically walked in on you half-naked, right now, it just felt frustrating.

"Don't you have anything to say either?" you challenged. "Am I the only one who wants to talk about what we did?" It was hard to believe that the usually eloquent Luke Castellan, the golden boy, was now speechless.

Luke ran a hand through his hair, his face etched with frustration. "Well..." he began, sinking down onto his bed. He hesitated for a long moment, searching for the right words. "It was definitely... something" he finally came out with, his voice barely a whisper.

Gods, was he really this bad at expressing himself? A groan escaped your lips, and you buried your face in your hands in exasperation. "This was a fucking mistake, gods" you muttered, your voice muffled. "Forget I even came here, Castellan." You spun on your heel, heading towards the door, the need to escape this awkward conversation overwhelming.

Your hand reached for the doorknob, ready to walk out and face the consequences of curfew later, rather than deal with this frustrating silence. But before you could turn the handle, a warm hand clamped onto your wrist.

Luke spun you around, his eyes pleading despite the anger simmering beneath the surface. "Don't go” he groaned, clearly frustrated with himself. "It's just – you can't expect me to speak normally to you when that isn't the relationship we have, you know?"

He was right. Your rivalry, for better or worse, defined your dynamic. What you did, that heated and uncontrollable moment that was one of the best sexual experiences that you ever had, had shattered the status quo, leaving you both scrambling for a new footing.

Your silence dominated you, quite a big difference to the nervous energy that had crackled between you moments ago. Luke's words echoed in the room, leaving you both grappling with the reality of the situation. He walked back to his bed, he knew now, you would stay.

With a defeated sigh, you walked over to his bed and stopped in front of him, hesitant to intrude further on his personal space by sitting next to him. "Luke, do you regret it?" you finally asked.

He ran a hand through his hair again, a nervous gesture that mirrored your own churning anxieties. "I don't know" he mumbled, his gaze dropping to his lap. A beat of silence followed, then he said, almost defensively, "But I can't deny that I... I liked it" he blurted out, almost comically frustrated.

"It's just that I never thought I would do something like that with you” he continued, his voice dropping back to a hushed tone. "Do you regret it?"

You shrugged your shoulders, still grappling with your own tangled emotions. “I mean… When it was happening," you started, searching for the right words, "I enjoyed it. But right now, with all the aftermath, I don't think I feel 'proud' of it exactly."

"You're not answering my question, yn." he said, a touch of annoyance creeping back into his voice.

"I don't know if I regret it, Luke, okay?" you admitted, frustration tinging your voice. "It's just… confusing."

The silence returned, this time heavier than before. The playful banter had faded, replaced by a deeper, more complex silence that spoke volumes about the uncharted territory you both found yourselves in. You decided to push the conversation further.

"Is this going to change things now?" you asked, your voice laced with a hint of apprehension.

Luke let out a loud, almost bitter laugh. "Why do you care? You hate me anyway" he said, his voice laced with a sharp edge. "This is the perfect excuse to not talk to me ever again."

Your brow furrowed in confusion. "Hate you? I don't hate you" you declared, taken aback by his accusation. "I wouldn't be here if I hated you."

"Don't like me then?" he countered, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, not exactly" you mumbled, cheeks flushing a warm heat. "But don't say I hate you. That's not true."

There was a surprised silence from Luke. Maybe he hadn't expected that answer. "Then what is it?" he finally asked, his voice raising up a little, laced with a hint of curiosity.

Frustration bubbled up inside you. "You!" you blurted out, pointing at him. "It's you, it’s you because we never get to have a regular conversation without arguing, because you started this whole picking on me things and it’s been like this ever since we were fourteen, Luke! And I know you and I are pretty good at ignoring each other, but this…" you gestured vaguely between the two of you, "this isn't something we can just sweep under the rug. It's not something we can just pretend never happened.”

"Then what do we do with it?" he continued, his voice trembling slightly in anger "I told you I liked it" Luke repeated, his voice tinged with annoyance. "What else do you want me to say!?"

"It's not what I want you to say!" you yelled back, your voice rising in volume. "It's what I want you to do!"

He threw his hands up in exasperation. "And what is exactly that!?"

The words tumbled out before you could think, a desperate plea fueled by confusion and a strange sense of longing.

"Fucking kiss me!"

The words echoed in the cramped silence of the cabin, and a blush flooded your cheeks as soon as they left your lips. You hadn't meant to say it out loud, but the tension, the confusion, the simmering emotions within you – it all came spilling out in a torrent of honesty.

Luke stared at you, his eyes wide with surprise. For a moment, you thought you might have crossed a line, shattered the fragile truce that had formed between you.

He rose from the bed with a slow, predatory grace. You were standing so close that when he stood to his full height, you were chest-to-chest with him. His dark eyes locked with yours, and you felt small.

"So that's it?" he continued, his voice laced with a hint of amusement. "That's why you're so worked up? You just want me to kiss you?"

His words, though seemingly lighthearted, stung. Was that all it was to you? A fleeting desire, a moment of impulsive rebellion? The anger you'd felt earlier flared anew, threatening to consume you.

"Is that all you think this is about, Castellan?" you spat, your voice shaking slightly. "Just some physical need?"

"That´s not what I meant" he drawled, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. “I know that if what happened left you with a physical need, you could go to anyone else. But you came to me, didn´t you?”

You wanted to punch him, to wipe that cocky smirk off his face. But a strange sense of honesty held you back. He was right, again. The truth was, a part of you didn’t crave just a taste of his lips, but something else, like an unexpected connection that went further more than physical. You didn’t know where it came from, or when, or why, you just felt it and thinking about it just felt right.

With a shaky breath, you tilted your head up, a silent answer to his question. Your lips brushed against his, breaths twirling together once again. He didn't hesitate or hold back this time. A low groan escaped his lips as he leaned down, his hands finding their way to your waist. His touch sent a jolt of electricity sparking through you, making your knees weak.

And the he kissed you.

It started slow, tender, almost reverent. He explored your lips with a newfound gentleness, as if savoring the feel of them against his. It spoke of exploration, of a tentative truce blossoming into something more. You wanted to feel him, to erase the line that had always separated you.

But then, as if a dam had broken, the kiss deepened. The tenderness melted away, replaced by a desperate urgency. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs tracing the soft contours of your cheeks. You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his dark hair, pulling him impossibly closer to your body. The kiss became a whirlwind of emotions – confusion, desire, the thrill of the forbidden.

You noticed the way his breath started to hitch. How whenever he had to fill his lungs with air, he would make sure it was just the necessary amount to kiss you back again. He didn’t want to forget the taste of your lips.

His kisses then started to start a slow, agonizing pace towards your neck. Right under your ear, over your pulse, on dip your collarbone; every hot kiss he placed only made your body unconsciously stick closer to his, head logging back in pleasure as your breaths became hitched too, turned into small gasps and little moans, all caused by the boy that got you on your nerves.

“Y-you haven’t answered my question” you suddenly said.

Luke was too concentrated on attacking your neck to even care looking at your face, but he still answered. “What question?”

“If you’re a virgin”

He could’ve stop right there, he could be mad at you for being so insistent, he could just go and leave you there, hot and bothered with your swollen lips and red neck attacked by his own lips, but he stayed. He stayed while his forehead rested against yours, catching his breath while his broad shoulders went up and down. His own skin was already sprayed with a thin layer of sweat, glistening by the only little peak of a curtain that didn’t fully covered the outside light.

“I’m not” he declared, hands dripping down to your hips. “But I’m not as experienced as you may think”

You nodded slightly. “And, do you-, would you like to experience a little more?” you asked.

See, you had a little problem. You didn’t realize how dangerous words could be, or how it could affect the other person until those words came out of your mouth, and you felt so stupid afterwards. So stupid you wanted to snap your fingers and let the ground swallow you whole and spit you right at the center of the Tartarus.

Luke chuckled. “Are you seriously asking me to fuck you?”. He asked it so casually, so calmly, that if only he had asked you with the tiniest bit of flirt, of teasing, you would’ve handled it easier.

Your blood rushed to your cheeks. “Honestly, I don’t know why you’re still so surprised” you try to laugh it off “Look what we’re doing”

“You’re right” he nods. “Yes. I would like to know what it is like to do what we did. No clothes this time”

He didn’t even let you think of an answer. His lips placed over yours again, but only for a brief moment before he started trailing down your throat. His curls tickled your chin, and his nose bumped constantly against the places he kissed. The tiny touch of the tip of his tongue with every kiss left behind a wet trail of saliva that started to go down, down, and down.

Even though he requested no clothes, your t-shirt didn’t seem to bother him at all. He pressed your lower body closer to his when he kissed your sternum. You didn’t know if it was because he genuinely knew how to make a girl feel good, or because it was simply him, but even over the fabric, his lips felt like fire against your skin, and you felt the goosebumps covering your arms.

Maybe it was both things.

He kept kissing until he sat down on his bed again. Your hands crept up his neck, just to have somewhere to hold, you needed to touch him. His neck, his hair, his back, everything.

His hands pushed up your t-shirt and as soon as he had the tiniest bit of skin visible, he attacked it. Just kisses everywhere. His lips were hot and wet, something that only added you both a immense pleasure. You hissed when his teeth took a slight grip of your hipbone, but the slight burning feeling it left behind made you release a stupid sound from your lips, a soft, small and broken whimper.

“Sorry” he said. He looked angelical like that; lips glistening, brown eyes looking up at yours, chin resting on your tummy. You could stay like this forever. “It’s just, you’re-” his fingers buried themselves at your sides. “You’re unreal”

You smirked. You knew this vulnerable and submissive state Luke was at would only last a second, but knowing that you were the one he would float up his surface for, how it made you feel, it was powerful. But you didn’t wanna be, you wanted him to crave you. You’ve been playing this game for way too long, it was time for Luke Castellan to prove what he could do.

You placed your hands over his, feeling your own small and delicate compared to his veiny and big ones. You pulled his calloused palms up your torso, the fabric of your t-shirt tangling in his fingers. He caught the message real quick, pulling your t-shirt over your head, letting it fall to the floor carelessly.

He looked momentarily stunned, with parted lips and all. He felt dumb too. This was his second time seeing you like this —except that when he did for the first time, you weren’t wearing shorts—, but something about it was different now. A hundred explanations rushed his brain a second; the lighting, the shorts, the color of your underwear, your hair. Maybe even the fact that you looked so close, but so unreachable.

You didn’t let him stare for too long, forearms crossing over his shoulders as you, once again, sat over his thighs. You didn’t have to lead him into anything this time, he pulled you by the waist even before you finished sitting on him.

He hissed when you rolled your hips once, hands flying to your sides to stop you. “Don’t do that” he said in a low tone. He knew you were just teasing him, but he really didn’t want to deal with you right now, not in that way.

You stopped, it was hard not to when he applied so much force on you that his biceps flexed and his veins popped out. And that reminded you the lack of your clothes, and the excessive amount of his.

His white t-shirt was long forgotten after if joined your own on the floor. He leaned back, hands resting over the mattress as your hand trailed down his torso; a bumpy ride down his body that was strangely appealing to your eyes. You hadn’t seen Luke shirtless before, and that reminded you, why hadn’t you seen Luke shirtless before?

The man was hot.

He seemed to enjoy the way your eyes roamed down his body way too much, also how you suddenly held your breath. He might’ve kept it a secret, but he saw and noticed everything. His hand reached out to cup your breast. “Pretty” he whispered, knuckles caressing the lacy fabric that covered you. He didn’t have to be a genius to realize how that instantly made your skin shiver, most specifically your back, that arched towards his feather-like touch.

He pushed himself up, lowering his head towards your chest. He took your bra in his teeth, pulling the fabric aside just enough for his tongue to lick over your nipple. You moaned, the sudden feeling taking you by surprise. He didn’t want to behave this softly, so tender, so stupidly careful. He needed more.

He repeated his action with your other breast, a tight and strangled moan escaping from your throat. He groaned lowly at your own sounds, discovering a new way of basically communicating with you; if you liked it, he liked it.

His arms wrapped around you with ease, lifting you up just enough for him to place you ever his bed, his body covering yours as his hands placed along your sides. His pulled your thighs apart with one knee, then pressing it against your core.

“Ah, Luke” you moaned out, eyes shutting at the feeling, too good to let it pass.

“Shit, baby” he cooed. His eyes scanned your body under his, the way it rolled so delicious and delicately as you tried your best to push yourself further into his knee, desperate for some friction. “Can I go down on you?” he blurted out.

You opened your eyes, leaning into your elbows on the bed, eyes piercing his. “You want to?” you ask.

“If I’m fucking you, I’m doing it right”

And your shorts disappeared in a second. He moved your panties aside with a hook of his fingers, and suddenly a wave of embarrassment washed over you.

He was seeing you vulnerably and literally open to him now. You felt too self conscious. You were screwed. Your arousal left a wet patch on the inside of your panties; what a sight for eyes like Luke’s. You felt his thumbs slowly pulling your lips apart. He was taking his oh so sweet time with it, and you didn’t know if you loved it or hated it.

You let out a surprise moan when his tongue laid flat against your cunt. He moaned against it instantly, the vibration sending a different type of pleasure. His big arms wrapped over your thighs, providing you of any movement except for the ones he wanted you to do. He ate you out like a starved man; and yes, it sounds cliche, but you never experienced something like this before.

He was so slow with it, yet so deep. He wouldn’t let any drop coming out of you go to waste, he wanted it all. He sucked on your clit, hard, but quickly let go to continue his task on your hole again, tongue slipping in and out. The only time he took a break, was to slightly lift his head up and spit down at you. It was already wet enough, but the cold saliva, falling directly to your clit, only made you want more.

You grabbed his head with both hands, pushing him down against you, and he didn’t complain a bit, mouth instantly opening again to let his tongue dance around you.

“Yes, yes, yes” you moaned, chest heaving up and down. The sounds that came out of Luke’s mouth against your pussy were disgusting; wet and dirty, and you would’ve never guessed you actually liked it better this way. He actually acted like he needed you, and you noticed, because you saw the tiny bit movements he made with his hips against the sheets. “Gods, Luke, don’t stop”

Maybe this was not the perfect time to praise any of the gods above, but you couldn’t help it, you didn’t even know what words came out of your mouth, none really, just little sounds that escaped from your lips like oil, slipping down unconsciously.

Luke felt too good, better than you had expected. Not experienced as you might think? You could easily believe he lied to your face.

The moment he pulled away one of his fingers slipped in between your folds. His fingertip grazed over your sensitive bud, making your body jolt once. You heard him breath out a laugh.

Then he pulled in, slowly, and a second finger joined easily. You grabbed the sheets by your sides, arching your back and letting a moan of relief out. You felt him lean his cheek on your inner thigh. “If you’re this tight on my fingers, can’t imagine what you will feel like when I fuck you”

He could simply cum in his pants again just by the sight of you; legs spread open around his head, his fingers pushing inside you at a perfect pace, your pussy glistening with his saliva. Your moans sounded pornographic, almost too good to be true. He managed to not do it though, he managed to focus on you and only you, on the way your hips rolled, on what made you squirm the most, what made you whine louder.

His fingers scissored inside you. Your moan was guttural when he eventually started to move faster, his wrist started to quickly feel tired, but how could he give up so easily on you?

Your eyes rolled back. He just treated you so good. He knew just when to curl his fingers, stuff them deeper inside you, or just removing them from inside your pussy to focus on your clit, softly drawing circles over it. He knew how torturous it was, almost as torturous as that night, in the motel, in which you couldn’t stop moving over him; wouldn’t stop. He deeply wanted you to stop, but not because he didn’t like it, but because he wanted more, and right now, you wanted more, and he was well aware of it.

“Fuck me already, Luke”

“What’s that?” he asks, head tilting, a cocky smirk on his face. His fingers were still moving around your clit.

You managed to focus your eyes on him, fire illuminating your eyes. He looked so fucking perfect. Shirtless, a thin layer of sweat over his muscles, his camp necklace softly hanging over his collarbone, his fingers covered in your wetness.

“Fuck me, please” you whined, too desperate for your own liking.

He stopped touching you and crawled over you again, his camp necklace dangling over your face. His hand squeezed your cheeks before he stamped his lips on you once again. He swallowed your moan when you tasted yourself on his lips. “So fucking needy, huh? Fuck, look at you” his eyes roamed down your body like a hunter stalks his prey. “All ready for me”

He praised you as if you were a goddess, which was not far from true but, he was not scared to admit how much he would worship you if he had the chance.

You reached out for his sweatpants, pulling them down below his ass before taking his cock in your hand. He squeezed his lips and groaned, eyes flitting shut at the feeling of your hand stroking him over his boxer. Even over the fabric, you felt how warm it was, how hard he had gotten. “I can tell you’re ready too, big boy” you teased.

He didn’t really know where his sweatpants fell, taking them fully out along with his underwear and throwing it somewhere in the darkness of the room. His dick smacked on his stomach, and you lifted your head to peak just a little.

And yes, as you expected, he was big. Not monstrously big but, fair enough to feel a little bit scared of whether is it gonna hurt or not. His tip was so red, you highly doubted he would last long enough before cumming.

“Shit, wait” he said, looking around, brows suddenly frowning in worry. “I don’t have a condom”

You laughed. “So?” you asked. His worried expression was replaced by a confused one. “I don’t mind”

“You don’t?” he blurted out.

“Just pull out. It’ll be fine” you assured with a warm smile. He hesitated for a moment, a flicker of worry still pang in his insides. “Hey” you called out, sitting straight and placing one hand behind his neck. “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay. You don’t have to be scared. If you don’t like it, we can stop, okay?” you whispered.

It seemed as if he wanted to say something, but he only limited himself to nod, letting the invisible weight of his shoulders fall off. You pulled him towards you, mouth quickly letting his tongue in as you fell onto the mattress again.

One of his hands started to trace delicate figures on your waist, stopping at your ribs to squeeze tightly as he lets the tip of his cock brush against you. He strangled a moan before aligning himself and you lift your hips slightly. His own hips start to move forward, slow. You gasp at the stretching, stealing Luke’s last breath before he let his forehead collapse on the crook of your neck.

You squeezed him fully, tighter every time another inch entered inside you. When you felt the base of his cock against you, he moaned out against your skin once, then his shoulders started to go up and down as he breathed heavily. “How do you feel this good when I haven’t even started yet?” he asked, more to himself that to you.

You tugged on his curls, forcing him to get away from your neck and look into your eyes. “And what’s taking you so long?” you whisper.

He took his bottom lip in between his teeth as he began to pull out just as slow as he had pushed in. He only let the tip of his cock in before moving forward again. You hugged him, his muscles clenching at the touch of your fingertips on his shoulder blades. He started agonizingly slow, but it felt so good. It was so intimate, not only because of the fact that your legs tangled on his lower back and you pulled him in with your heel, but because suddenly, a warm embrace hugged you both. The sudden feeling of hugging him tighter when he started to move faster, and his need to let his fingers mark over your thighs, tightly gripping on the flesh when you moaned into his ear, something about the lines of going faster and how good it felt. He doesn’t remember.

He wanted to keep you like this forever, his legs thrown around his waist, your pussy sucking him in every time he pulled out, your moan and whimpers in his ear, your hands touching him everywhere. Your hands felt so good, so smooth over his rough skin, over his scars. He wanted to kiss them, every single knuckle, massage them, hold them forever. He wanted to keep you forever. Your embrace, your laugh, your voice, your feelings. He wanted you to open yourself to him, to feel safe around his arms, to know that he would always be there, no matter what you need him for.

“You’re greedy, baby. Aren’t you?” he teased in your ear. He whispered so low that your back arched at the sound. “Yeah, like that. Just sucking me right back in, huh?”

You felt speechless. You were. Also, it was hard to speak when he was pounding into you like an animal, grunts and moans filling the room despite the soaked slapping of skin to skin. He tugged at your hair, pulling down and forcing yourself to push your head back further into his pillow. His tongue flattened against the base of your neck, licking all the way up to the back of your ear. Even though you didn’t see him, you felt him smirk. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting this for. Wanted to fuck you ever since you wore that fucking dress to the fireworks”

Oh, the dress.

Fourth of July at camp. Well, it got lots of compliments. How pretty it looked on you, how it showed off your curves, how the color fitted you nicely, how you managed to find the perfect shoes to combine them with. And yes, you had noticed that Luke’s stare towards you was intense. He was staring, jaw clenched and his stupid face towards your directions at all times, head following you wherever you went. But you would’ve never guess that a simple white dress, was gonna start it all for him and the painful ache in his cargo pants.

If you knew, you would’ve wore it before. And more frequently.

“Luke” you moaned out when he particularly pushed too deep inside you.

“Say it. Say my name again” he demanded, hand squeezing in between your bodies to touch your clit again, smacking it with two fingers, stealing a high pitched whimper from your lips. He started his expert circles around it again. You tried your best to do as he said, but the pounding of his cock inside you, the skin slapping and the sensitive touch of his fingertips over you was driving you crazy.

You finally managed to call his name, over and over again, like a prayer. He felt too good when you did so, slamming harder against your body when his hand movement became sloppy, stopping momentarily only to start again.

In a swift, blurry motion, he placed both hands on the mattress on the side of your head, pulling himself up and his cock out of you. You covered your face to muffle your screams when he started to rub himself on your clit. The tip of his cock hurt against you, rubbing over you again and again and again. It was fast, not giving you enough time to recover before his red tip caressed over your clit again.

This felt much better than any other feeling you felt with him, maybe even replaced by the feeling of his cock stretching you out. But this, something you never tried before, made your walls clench around nothing and your clit scream in agony, the warm feeling in your belly only growing more and more with each thrust of his hips.

His movements stopped as abruptly as his moans. You only heard him release a held back moan when he let his hips thrust once more, and you felt his warm load fall over your stomach just at the same time that you came. It reached so high up that you immediately felt out of breath, chest heaving up and down as Luke cursed under his breath, and his cum kept dripping down over you.

He would’ve collapsed over your body, but he didn’t wanna get you all dirty. It was a dumb though, considering the fact that you were sweaty, hair messy, lips parted as you cursed too, and a very slight signal of tears in your eyes. You were destroyed, and he was too.

“Wait here” he pointed at you with one finger, carefully climbing down his bed and putting on his boxers, disappearing in the darkness. He later came back with paper towels, taking the first one and folding it, cleaning the parts of your body that were left behind with him on it.

He cleaned himself after, hissing at the sensitivity of his head, before throwing the dirty wipes to a small bin. He hopped on the bed again, arm throwing around your waist as he pulled you closer. You couldn’t help but chuckle.

He kissed your forehead, your nose, your lips, your collarbone, leaving behind his mark on you. He placed two of three kisses on your shoulder as his hand circled your lower back, before playfully biting on it.

“Stop” you pushed him on the chest. “You’ll get me all marked up”

“What if I wanted to?” he asked, head falling down on the pillow. His eyes twinkled when he looked at yours. “Would you let me?”

“Depends. Will we still pretend we don’t like each other?”

He snorted. “Who said I like you now?”

“Ha-ha” you panted, staying silent for a moment. Your finger traced his features, so harsh yet so delicate. His jawline, his nose, his cheeks. His scar. You let your thumb softly touch it, Luke’s eyes closing as you do, sighting at your warm touch. You knew how much he hated it, how much he wanted people to avoid looking at it, how embarrassed he felt about it. You never truly understood why. Yes, he failed his quest but, it gave him such a different type of look. Brave, warrior-looking, fearless, hot. “I like it” you whispered.

“Don’t lie to me” his voice changed, a sudden dark, sad tone.

“No, I mean it” you blinked fast, concerned at his mood change. “It makes you… pretty”

He would’ve expected any word, any. Badass, tough, bad boy-looking. But pretty? He wasn’t prepared for it. “You think I’m pretty?” he asks, shiny dark eyes piercing yours.

“And a pain in the ass, sure”

He let out a laugh, you joined him. It was a soft symphony that momentarily filled the room with wholesome energy. “So what now?” he asked. “What are we?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know” your fingers played with the little wooden pendants of his necklace. “We don’t need to know it now, though”

“But I don’t wanna pretend I don’t like you either” he explained. “ ‘Cause this is actually kind of fun”

“Kind of?” you asked, tilting your head. Luke rolled his eyes.

“Okay, it’s the best sex I’ve had so far” he admitted.

“Thaaank you” you replied. He laughed again, less this time, but still managed to crack a smile. He didn’t know he could smile this much with you. “And, you don’t have to worry about pretending. We don’t have to”

“No?”

“No” you shook your head. “Let it be. Let ‘em think what they want. We were sent on a quest, something happened and now, we’re friends”

His signature grin marked on his face. “Friends?” he asks.

You gulp, visibly flustered now. And yes, friends. Friends who lay in bed naked, friends who fuck, friends who kiss, friends who dirty talk to each other, friends who break curfew to find themselves making out in the most remote places at camp, friends who stare, friends who care. So, yes; “Friends” you assure.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #pjo series #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #pjo x you #pjo smut #luke castellan x female reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan imagines

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aryxchse · 3 months

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who did this to you? | percy jackson x daughter of hera! reader.

a / n : didn't wrote about my husband in a long time now

warnings : blood mentioning, passing out, dark-ish percy, cursing, enemies to lovers, book percy is my babe fr

percy was never the guy who judged the book by it's cover.

he had every type of friends. clarisse, who was the daughter of ares, the second god he despised the most. annabeth, which was his father's arch nemesis athena's daughter. thalia, the girl he couldn't get along at the first but realised they were same in different fonts, which was the daughter of zeus. also the arch nemesis of his father.

he loved his friends deeply. he was loyal to them to death and he always believed that they weren't their parents. until he met you.

you were the daughter of.. well.. hera. ranking the first in his 'i-would've-killed-if-i-had-the-power.' list. and ares with a red marker under her.

the moment you felt his judgy and awkward aura around you, you decided that you should hate him. you tried to love him, which was easy, believe me. but you always thought he hated you too, so you get along with it.

percy jackson never hated you. he was just scared from you. scared from the way you sometimes did acted like your mother. and if you would've turned out like her some day.

but you never did. you were always the same gentle, sweet, caring and motherly girl. at least to others. percy jackson was just keeping up with your attitude, the attitude he created unknowingly.

until one day, you came back to argo ii from your quest with jason and annabeth, all bruised up. jason was carrying you on his back while annabeth held your hand tightly, tears perking in her eyes.

"percy, hazel, everyone! come here please!" annabeth shouted as jason put you down gently. you rested your back to some wood wall that you didn't recognised at the moment. annabeth still held your hand, and you smiled. blood running down from your lip. "annie, m' okay." you mumbled, squezzing the girls hand.

"don't talk love," annabeth caressed your hair as the others rushed up to the main deck. hazel rushed to your side, giving you some ambrosia.

"what happened?" you heard percy ask, voice weirdly shaking. you closed your eyes and the sun suddenly was gone with someone's shadow. "hey, y/n, look at me," someone cupped your face. you slowly opened your eyes and saw percy staring at you. he had that worried face you loved so much, but never saw directed to you until now.

"who did this to you?" he asked, also looking at annabeth and jason. "who did this to her, jason? annabeth?" he asked them. you heard jason sigh.

you heard some mumbles coming from jason before you fell asleep, too tired to keep staying up.

when you woke up, someone was holding your hand. it was annabeth, who smiled the moment she saw you woken up. you smiled back, warming up with her caring behavior. "hey annie."

"hey sweetie," she said, getting up from the chair and sitting next to you on the bed. "how are you feeling?"

"great," you answered. and you did feel great. you were all bandaged and the ambrosia you ate earlier gave you energy. "what happened after i passed out? what happened to the monster?"

annabeth had a grin on her face that you saw only in special occasions. shipping kinda occasions. "well, after jason told everything that happened to percy- you remember he's asking you who did it right?" she asked.

"yeah, yeah i do. the last thing i heard was jason mumbling," you explained and she nodded. "after percy finding out who did it, and you passing out at the moment, he uh.. destroyed the monster. yeah, i think that's the perfect word for it."

she giggle at the shocked expression on your face. "i don't think the monster will reborn even, that's how crazy he went."

annabeth caressed your hair, the gentle expression she usually had coming back. "aside from the jokes, he's really worried about you. you passing out did not helped him. i could send him here, if you want."

"that would be wonderful annie," you finally managed to whisper, smiling at the girl. she returned the smile and gave your hand one last squeeze before getting out from your quarter.

not so after, percy ran into your room and closed the door behind him. "thank gods," he whispered, rushing to you. he embaced you in a hug that could easly broke someone's ribs. but you only chuckled, hugging his neck. "hello shark boy, missed me?"

you meant this question to be a joke to wipe away the awkward sitiuation between you two, but he seemed to get this seriously. "so much." he whispered into your neck, caressing your hair gently. "thought i lost you for a sec, pretty."

the pretty was new. he called you many things, not mean ones of course, but many things. the pretty was new, and it wasn't meant to annoy you. this was new too.

"nah, you're not getting away from me that easy jackson." you chuckled, inhaling his scent. the first time you actually hugged him, and finally find out what was the fuss about his hugs. they were the best. the ones that made you feel safe from everything, even from your thoughts.

"i know, it was stupid of me. i should've guessed the y/n i know wouldn't leave that easly." he finally pulled away, quickly wiping his face with the back of his hand. was he crying?

"hey perce," you finally looked at his eyes. he never saw this soft expression on you, at least not looking at his way. at that moment, he was scared of what he could do to see you looking at him like that all the time.

"yeah?" he asked gently, holding your hands in his. you thought you should return the care, so you caressed his hands with your thumbs.

"thank you." you said. "for, in annabeth's words, destroying that monster. and for getting worried about me."

he smiled. a geniune smile you only saw giving to his friends. "anytime angel, would fight the gods for you." he said, looking at you with puppy eyes.

"i'm sorry for acting like the way i did," you said, ignoring the butterlies dancing in your stomach. "thought you hated me."

"hate you?" he shouted a bit, squeezing your hands. "i never hated you. i thought you hated me."

"i did!" you bluntly said, and that earned a chuckle from him. "because you judged me because of my mother!"

"no! i swear i didn't mean that to happen," he said quickly, sitting close to you. "i was just scared you'd be all.. mean like your mother. but i realised you weren't and i was so late to fix everything. you were already hating me."

you only sighed, and looked at your intertwined hands. it made you touch your foreheads, and he leaned to you gladly. "i was so scared i lost you before i even made it up." he whispered.

"don't worry, i'd haunt you." you laughed, and he laughed along with you.

you pulled away your one hand to caress his cheek, which he accepted the touch happily. his gaze suddenly flickered to your lips, and the next second he was leaning in.

"would you like to know another fact?" he said, grinning like a devil. you nervously smiled, thumb caressing his jawline. "what?"

"i wanted to kiss you for a sickingly long time now," he said quietly, leaning in until your nose touched. you prayed to every olympian that he wouldnt hear your heartbeat, beating crazy inside your ribs.

"yeah? i knew you had a thing for me," you teased, holding his chin in your fingers. he only continued grinning, his breath hitting your lips. "you were stupidly obvious about it."

"i don't give a single fuck," he breathed out before smashing his lips onto yours, eagerly kissing you. his hands cupped your face and you gripped his shirt.

the kiss felt like it was bound to happen. like it was a prophecy becoming true. you secretly knew this would happen eventually, because he indeed was stupidly obvious about his feelings. you always thought percy jackson hated you, but everytime you turned your head, he would be there. standing by your side.

you pulled away only to breath, lips still few inches away. "i had a thing for you too, if you couldn't tell." you chuckled. he let out a breathless laugh, annoyingly hot.

"yeah i figured it out," he said. then he finally looked away from your lips to stare deep in your eyes, grinning. "you're stuck with me now angel. prepare yourself to see me everytime, attached to you by the hip."

"when did i never?"

#m not sure about the last sentence feel free to fix me #anyways heres my husband #percy my beloved #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson series #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson headcanon #percy jackson imagine #pjo show #percy x you

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sukunasweetheart · 2 months

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I refuse to believe Sukuna wouldn’t eat his lover’s body if they pass before him. There is no way he will let you rot away when you could be with him forever. Especially if it was by your own request. He will eat your heart raw and drink your blood like its ambrosia. Your soul will remain within him for all eternity uwu

ANON THIS IS SAUR BIG BRAINED..... THE WAY THAT THIS IS SO CORRECT 🥹🥹🥹🥹 i literally even had a fic idea similar to this 🥲🫡 i just love this concept, its so poetic and resonates so deeply with his canon character 💖

he'd carry a part of you with him forever through consuming you, the warmth of your blood spreading in his own veins as he drinks from your flesh, it tastes divine like nothing else, perhaps it's because he cherishes you so much, understands how precious you are to him, knows that this is the only chance he'll ever get to indulge in the pure, raw taste of you--

And knowing that this was something you wanted - to be consumed by him - makes sukuna's heart swell with pride, you wholly accepted him, and embraced him for all that he is. For that, he will dutifully devour you, just as you wished.

Each bite he takes, means another part of you is gone from his hands. Sukuna leaves nothing behind, even your bones are crushed up by his strong teeth before he swallows them up, too. It feels odd, to eat someone that he'd wholeheartedly loved as much as he did with you.

It's a messy, gruesome looking process. His four hands are tainted with your crimson blood, and the same has occurred around the edges of his mouth. He blinks, and your corpse has disappeared, as he's now eaten you down completely.

And yet, though he's fulfilled his desires and your request, and was fully able to enjoy the unique and delightful flavours of your body, sukuna feels strange.

He feels unsatisfied.

He had you to the last fragment, alone. So why is he still left with yearning?

Sukuna stares at his emptied, bloodied hands. Yes, empty... It's the first time he's felt empty after such a full meal.

He will never be able to touch you again, and that is almost unbearable to fathom, more than he realised. The only comfort he receives, is that your body is now within him, and he will carry you around to wherever he goes.

Doomed to forever to yearn after a taste, a person that he can never have again, sukuna picks up the bloodied kimono that he'd stripped you of from the floor, and leaves this place behind in silence.

This is just an afterthought, but imagine if you do actually pop up in his innate domain quite some time after, which surprises him 🤔 but then he realises that he probably ate you up with so much love that he'd unknowingly cursed you and took a part of your literal soul with him when he consumed your body--

He'd call you a sly thing, asking if you knew this would happen when you'd asked him to devour you with your dying breath. Yet he seems quite overjoyed by the fact that he can interact with you again

He would question you on why you're only showing up now, after making him grieve for so long (he wouldn't verbally say that last part 🤭) and you tell him its bc you're only a tiny fragment of yourself, it took a while for you to even develop this appearance of yours

You probably appear to him in his dreams or whenever hes just spacing out 😇

#sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk x reader #sukuna x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #tw dark content #tw cannibalism

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mediumgayitalian · 2 months

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The slam of his car door is loud enough to make him jump, echoing across the dipping valleys and proud hills. He curses to himself, standing frozen, one, two, three, four, but no one comes running. A light dusting of snow falls in a perfect circle around an invisible border, and Lee shivers as he jogs over to it, worn sneakers squelching over the wet, half-thawed grass.

As soon as he steps onto the bottom of Half-Blood Hill, he feels the difference, the balmy breath of warm summer under the clear December sky. The power of Thalia’s tree sends its usual shiver down his back, and he touches it, briefly, as he speeds past, sending his usual prayer of thanks. He pauses at the crest of the hill, using the bright gibbous moon to survey the camp, marking his path.

“Two, four….twelve,” he mutters to himself, craning his neck to map every one of the patrol harpies. He crouches for a while, watching them, tracking their patrol: paired, hexagonal, staggered circuits around the cabins. Four minute window of opportunity.

He can do four minutes.

As the two harpies walking the Apollo-Artemis circuit begin to cross the common, Lee bolts. He keeps low and close to the shadows, sprinting fast and on the balls of his feet to stay quiet, and ducks behind whatever shadow is closest whenever something looks his way. By the time the harpies turn back towards Cabin Seven, he’s already on the rickety porch, tossing his backpack inside the window Michael left open for him and throwing himself in after it.

He lands palms-first, tucking into a roll to absorb the momentum. He freezes, panting, by the leg of what is usually Amir’s bed, straining to hear past the crickets and cicadas.

One, two, three, four.

Nothing.

He’s good.

“Took your damn sweet time, didn’t you.”

“Hello to you too,” Lee grumbles, pushing himself upright. From across the cabin, lounging on his bed like a goddamn French monarch, is his dick of a brother, grinning like the little shit he is. “Haven’t seen you in weeks, most people say hello, et cetera, et cetera.”

Michael shrugs. “You’re late. I watched you on the hill; you coulda made that run twenty minutes ago.”

“Nobody asked you.”

“I’m always asking me.”

“Get over her, boogerbrain.”

“Real mature,” Michael mocks, but ambles over anyway. He retches like a twelve year old when Lee hugs him, but twists his hands in the back of Lee’s shirt when he lets go too fast. Lee hides his smile in his over-gelled hair.

“You might miss me less if you actually write me letters, you know.”

“I didn’t miss you,” he responds automatically. “And I wouldn’t have to write you letters if you stayed home, already.”

Lee sighs. “…I have school, Michael.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m sure your dumbass bio teachers have loads to teach the guy who can do open heart surgery with his eyes closed.”

“Yeah, yeah. If anyone could do with a good, old-fashioned, public school humbling, it would be you, hothead. You ready to go?”

Michael pulls away with a roll of his eyes. “Only since yesterday. Been waiting for your sorry ass.”

“My sorry — your sorry ass doesn’t have a car!”

Michael snickers, jogging back to his bunk and grabbing the black duffel bag resting under it. Lee makes quick work of packing his own bag, stuffing in a couple squares of ambrosia and and giant roll of bandages, just in case, before creeping over to the only bed left with someone still in it.

“Hey, kiddo.” He folds over the sheet pulled all the way over messy blonde curls, immediately plaguing the cabin with loud snoring. He rests his palm over a sleep-creased cheek, mapping his thumb over the freckles dotting pudgy cheekbones, and brushes back the hair plastered to his baby brother’s forehead. “Will, sweetheart, get up.”

It takes him a couple minutes of gentle prodding — when Will is out he is out — to wake up, squinting blearily in the dim fairy lights strewn across his bunk. He blinks, one, two, three, four, then gasps.

“Lee!”

“Oof,” Lee grunts, shifting his weight as he is abruptly accosted with an armful of child. He smiles, curling around Will’s flailing, chattering form, tightening his hold on his waist and resting his forehead on his shoulder. “Hi, buddy.”

“—missed you so much! Is this why your letter was late? Are you staying? Is this why Diana left yesterday? Is she here now? Is Cass coming? Is everybody coming? Can I —”

“C’mon, Motormouth,” Michael interrupts, cuffing Will’s ear as he walks by. “Go get your sneakers on. We’re going for a drive.”

“‘Kay,” Will days happily, dashing off to find the light-up Star Wars shoes he refuses to throw out, even though there are literal holes in the soles.

“You got his bag?”

“Yep,” Michael affirms, holding up a straining backpack. “Toothbrush. Hairbrush that he won’t use. Three comic books. Change of clothes. And two more changes of clothes for when he inevitably destroys the first one,” he adds when Lee opens his mouth. He shoots him an exasperated look. “Me and Diana have been chasing after the little brat for four months, dude. I got him.”

“Alright, alright,” Lee grumbles. “Heaven forbid I double-check.” He turns over to the door, where Will is tying his shoelaces, tongue peeking out of his mouth. “You ready, Will?”

He tugs on the two loops. The entire knot unravels. Quick as a flash, he stuffs the laces inside his shoes, scrambling to his feet.

“Yes,” he lies. He scratches at his throat.

Lee and Michel sigh in unison.

Luckily, the reaction is hardly more than itchy eyes and a cough. Lee herds him towards the door, sliding the backpack over his shoulders and holding out his arm and —

“Hold on a sec.”

“Why?” Will whispers.

“Shh,” Lee says.

Window cracked open, Michael exhales. The release of his bow hardly makes more than a soft hiss.

The angle is odd, limited space as there is, but Michael never misses — the clunky arrow whistles through the open window, sailing past the sloped roofs of the west wing cabins, and thunks somewhere behind the first layer of trees in the forest. Immediately, it lets loose a burst of sound identical to a dropped bottle and a group of teenagers cursing. In seconds, the curfew harpies are screeching, descending upon the source of the noise with the fury of a thousand sun chariots.

“Go go go go go,” Michael orders, wrenching open the door.

Will, immediately, takes off, gleeful at the opportunity to run away with permission (usually, he’s running from one of them, screeching at him to get back here). (Or Chiron, although Chiron has a much easier time catching up, what with the six limbs and all). (…Is Chiron an insect? Technically?)

“How long do we have?” Lee whispers, once Michael has caught up.

He shrugs. “Seven minutes, give or take? More than enough time.”

Lee worries his bottom lip. “More than…” He glances at the forest. Vaguely, in the low firelight, he can see the odd wing, hear the odd screech. Nothing looks very close. He glances at the rapidly approaching Athena cabin, just a few yards out of their way. Hm.

“Detour!” he decides. “Will, c’mon!”

Ignoring Michael’s hissed complaints, he veers towards to neatly maintained cabin. He slips in the space between Cabins Six and Four, holding tight to Will’s hand. He counts the windows as he passes — one, two, three, four — and stumbles to a stop, crouching down in the dirt.

“Oh, are you — for the love of Zeus.”

Lee ignores his eye-rolling, scanning the ground for pebbles. He selects a handful of them, careful not to choose anything too big, and jogs a few steps back.

“What’re you doing?” Will asks, too loud, but at least he tries to whisper.

Instead of answering, Lee launches the first pebble at the window.

It pings off harmlessly.

Waiting a breath for the harpies to come running, he continues, firing off pebble after pebble with increasing strength. Finally, after pebble #7, a face appears behind the clear glass, bleary eyes widening when they take in the sight in front of them. Quickly, the latches are undone, and the window is yanked open.

“Lee?!”

Lee grins. “Hey, Carter.”

“What’re you — you’re — it’s December! What’s going —”

“I need a favour,” Lee whispers. “Can you — cover for us?”

For the first time, Carter looks away, brows raising as he notices Micheal, who taps his (watchless) wrist obnoxiously, and Will, who waves brightly. Carter waves back, small smile tugging at his lips.

“Cover for you?”

“Just, like, infirmary stuff. I don’t think anything will happen, and if it does we’re an IM away, but —”

“Lee,” Carter says exasperatedly, “cover you guys for what?”

“Oh.” Lee clears his throat. “I, um. I need to do something for my family.”

Smiling, Carter rests his elbows on the windowsill, chin in his hands. “Mysterious.”

“We’ll be back by tomorrow evening,” Lee assures.

“And then you’ll stay for a bit?”

Lee’s mouth goes dry. “You want me to stay?”

Carter ducks his head, fingers tracing a mindless path on the windowsill. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you for a while.”

A thousand gods of prophecy could not predict the sound that comes out of Lee’s throat.

Something between a whimper and an awkward laugh, his voice cracks four seperate times. Carter giggles. Lee prays, genuinely, that a crater opens up beneath him and drops him right at Lord Hades’ feet.

“Everything okay, Lee?”

“Peachy,” he croaks.

Carter giggles again. Lee flushes. Michael gags exaggeratedly behind him, pausing mid-heave to whisper something to Will, and then there’s a giggle, and then two people fake-retching. Carter peeks through his dark eyelashes, pleased expression softening his heart-shaped face, and Lee counts twelve of his own capillaries straight-up explode.

“Well,” he says, too loudly. “I’m — well.”

“I think you have harpies to run from,” Carter suggests gently.

“Indeed.” Lee clears his throat, nodding. “As you have so astutely observed, we do —”

Michael, recognising the strained tone to his voice, groans. “Fucksake, Lee —”

“— and so I bid you adieu —”

“Dude, oh my gods, snap out of it —”

Lee can’t. He barely has control over his own mouth.

“— and vow to see you again in the eve.”

Feeling his soul exit his body, settle in front of him, and then crumple up and die, Lee fucking bows. There is the very distinctive sound of a hand slapping over a mouth, muffling an eruption of giggles, and then the hand of mercy, also known as Michael Yew, clamping on the back of his lava-hot neck.

“Please excuse him,” he says grandly. “He was dropped on his head as a child. He’s normal, usually.”

“Except when you wear your glasses,” Will pipes up. Lee makes a mental note to find Clarisse’s spear and shove it through his own eye. “He gets real weird when you wear your glasses. Once he walked into a wall and broke his nose.”

“…Did he.”

“Yep. And last time he —”

“God, this hurts me to say,” whispers Michael, “but I have to put a stop to this conversation. We’re on a time limit. C’mon, Will. Bye, Carter. Sorry for — well, you know. Apollonian dramatics, not always easy to control.”

He turns, dragging Lee, still hunched over, out of the Cabin Six shadow.

Lee does not un-hunch until they are well over the crest of Half-Blood Hill, harpy screeches beginning to echo behind them.

“I have never been more embarrassed to be related to you in my life,” Michael informs him, the second he’s upright. “Like, genuinely, I’m considering disowning you. That was atrocious, Fletcher. You need to get ahold of yourself. Where is your game? Your dignity?”

“I think he lost it when he was born,” Will says thoughtfully. “Or maybe when Carter smiled at him the first time.”

“I hate both of you,” Lee croaks.

Neither of them seem too incredibly bothered, snickering to each other as they duck into the car.

Willing his flush to go down, Lee herds them into his car. He takes a moment in the cool air to chill the hell out, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, then slips behind the wheel. He checks that Will is belted in properly, slips the car into neutral, and coasts down the road, waiting until Thalia’s tree slips out of sight before turning it on and hitting the gas.

“Where’re we goin’?

“You,” Michael says, flipping down the vanity mirror to glare sternly at Will, “are going to dreamland. It’s three in the morning. Time for bratty children to sleep.”

“What? No! I’m not tired!”

“Fine, fine,” Lee says, exchanging a grin with Michael. “Stay awake, then. As long as you like.”

Will narrows his eyes. “Really?”

“Yep.”

“No trick?”

Lee crosses his fingers. “‘Course not.”

“Fine,” he relents. He settles into the booster seat Lee dragged out of the trunk for him (which he hates), arms crossed over his chest, and stares out the window.

Counting off on his fingers — one, two, three, four — Lee and Michael begin to hum.

At first, nothing happens. Will taps absentmindedly on his knees, humming along to the parts he knows, but soon his fingers slow. Lee and Michael keep it low and quiet, cycling through quiet folk songs Michael’s dad taught him, matching with the rumbling of the car, the slight breeze of Lee’s cracked open window. Michael kicks softly at the base of his seat, one, two, three, four; and matches the rhythm of the radio static, the click of the blinkers on every turn.

Will’s out in twenty minutes.

———

The drive is long.

Michael curls up sometime around four, fogging up the windows with every snore. Lee keeps the radio on a low hum, letting the background noise keep him focused as he navigates. The Atlantic Ocean is ink-black in the early morning, and the waves crash loud enough that he can hear them over the sounds of the engine, and for a while they’re still far enough from the city that the air smells fresh. Even when it starts to sour, and the noise gets a lot more urban, it’s early enough and he’s east enough that the traffic is minimal. Never non-existent — he actually cannot imagine what a traffic-less New York would look like; he doubts he’ll ever live to see it — but enough that he keeps at a steady 35.

The drive through Jersey is uneventful. Farmland and suburbs, nothing he hasn’t seen every day of his life, nothing he didn’t see the last time he made the drive. He entertains himself by counting every brown car he sees, randomly wagering the number by the time he gets there. He’s relieved when he finally crosses the memorial bridge, driving down the exit ramp and pulling into the first big parking lot he sees. Michael wakes up as he puts the car in gear, killing the engine.

“We here?” he asks, popping the joints along his spine.

Lee yawns. “Pretty much, yeah. Pulled off the highway.”

“‘Kay.” He glances in the backseat, where Will is starting to stir. “You nap. I’m gonna find a place for him to change and brush his teeth, maybe get breakfast for all of us.”

“Sounds good”

He crawls in the backseat as Michael guides Will out of it, accepting the blanket tossed his way. He slides his hoodie over his face, lies back, and conks out in minutes.

———

“Yo, Lee. Get up. I got food.”

“Timizzit?” he asks, shaking the grogginess from his limbs.

“Eleven. You slept for four hours. We gotta be at the theatre in an hour.”

“When’s she on?”

“Fuck if I know, man. Diana said noon, I’m gonna be there at noon. You wanna piss off Diana?”

“No.” He rubs the heel of his palm into his eyes, reaching blindly in the direction of Michael’s voice. “Food, please.”

A bag of grease is deposited into his waiting hand. He is pleased to find three cheeseburgers within it, and immediately tears into them with a fervour that can only be described as ‘ravenous’, or perhaps ‘revolting’. Esurient, perhaps, if one was feeling poetic.

Finally awake enough to function, Lee looks critically at the scene in front of him. Michael is dressed in the same button-up and slacks he wears to his dad’s performances, on the years he’s in the U.S., and Will is in jeans without grass stains, real shoes, hair mostly brushed. Michael has even managed to find a shirt that’s not half-unraveled from Will picking at the seams.

“Nice,” he says, nodding in approval.

Michael picks at his nails, visibly preening. “Oh, it was no big deal.”

“Yeah, yeah. Dweeb.”

He polishes off his last burger, then ducks inside the nearest store to find somewhere to get changed. Diana told them it didn’t matter, really, what they wore, but Lee knows better. He knows what this means for Cass, and while yeah, sure, it wouldn’t really matter if he showed up in sweatpants, he wants to show her that he put in the effort. That even if her mother couldn’t, or wouldn’t, they will. All of them. He wants her to see them and know that they did this for her. He wants her to see them and know that they tried, that they care.

Hair perfectly placed and clothes as unwrinkled as he can get them, he hurries back to the car. The theatre isn’t far, and they have a little under an hour, but he doesn’t want to push it. Finding parking will be hard enough.

“Are we on a quest?” Will asks, five minutes out on the road.

“Eight year olds don’t go on quests.”

“Diomedes was ten when he fought the Trojan war.”

“Are you Diomedes?”

“No.”

“Are you ten?”

“No.”

“Then no quests for you.”

“Aw.”

“Your quest can be being quiet for twenty minutes,” Michael grumbles, making a face when Will sticks his tongue out at him.

———

part two

#writint michael was SO FUN and also a bit of a challenge bc he is a bitch #god i love him #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #lee fletcher #michael yew #will solace #cabin seven #cabin seven kids #lee fletcher & will solace #michael yew & will solace #lee fletcher & michael yew #my writing #fic #longpost

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bunny-lily · 16 days

Text

Tether Me - Chapter 4

Pairing(s): Geto/Gojo/Reader

Summary: Sweet, cold, saintly watermelon spread over your tongue and you ascended, tilting your head back as you nursed the popsicle like it was the ambrosia of the gods themselves.

Satoru skewed over and dropped his head on your shoulder, making you lour at him. You very much did not need someone else’s muggy body heat worsening the already unbearably humid air.

“Fan me,” he demanded, and you poked his cheek with your popsicle, leaving a sticky spot behind.

“Fan yourself,” you rejected.

Suguru chuckled to himself. “You’ll get used to it and learn how to manage.”

“Has this house really been abandoned for only 20 years?” You grunted as you forced a scraper under a crumpled section of a newspaper that might as well have been glued to the ground on purpose. Your arms trembled from the strain, knuckles drained of blood, your hands fighting for their lives to finally free the paper of its wooden prison.

With a shallow yelp from you, the scraper came loose, only taking a quarter of the browned paper with it. The section ripped partially through the head of a baseball player, giving him a rather unfortunate face lift.

“That’s what everyone says,” Suguru confirmed as he worked on scrubbing a chunk of the floor like he was trying to avenge someone. His nose wrinkled in disgust when he lifted the rag and observed the dark grime stuck to it. “I asked my gran, she said that she can’t remember the family’s name, something starting on ‘Fu’. Father, mother, and their son. The mother was diagnosed with some sort of illness that the village doctor couldn’t manage, so they had to go to the city.”

“Oh,” you frowned as you sat back on your heels. “Did she survive?”

He shrugged, dipping the rag into the bucket of once clean water beside him. “No idea. They weren’t super close with any of the villagers here, so there weren’t any updates after they left. I assume she didn’t, since they never returned here.”

“That’s sad,” you spoke low as you tossed the piece of ew away in the bag beside you. “I hope they’re okay, one way or another.”

The two of you worked together in the living room, peeling useless bits of goo and gunk to clean the house inch by inch. You'd already finished with the first pass of the kitchen, hallway, and master bedroom. After getting the go-ahead from Uncle Han a bit ago (you felt weird calling him that, but he insisted), you decided to start indoors to spare yourselves from the ever rising sun. With summer approaching, the lawn had been dealt with promptly, the three of you moving through it surprisingly speedily with teamwork.

Satoru, for all his rich boy credit, was actually helping. You were honestly expecting him to maybe work for five minutes, then laze around and whine about being bored, but you were pleasantly surprised by his productivity.

For one, he’d been gathering various architecture and designer house catalogues; stuff that was in, stuff that was out, and everything in between. Whatever might strike your fancy, he was there to offer his input, whether asked or not. You could tell he was having fun showing off expensive house designs, even if it was way too early to be looking at paint colors and matching furniture. He was acting like it was his house that was getting renovated.

He was also helpful with the physical labor portion of fixing this mess up, putting those beefy biceps to good use. He’d done some wondrous work in the kitchen.

That’s not to say he didn’t whine about boredom and hardship and whatnot, but at least he was working while doing so.

Presently, he was in the smaller room opposite to the master bedroom, addressing the tatami issue. Said issue being that the material was practically cemented to the floor below, strangely crunchy for being stiff as a brick, and very much showing its age.

He was experimenting with various methods for prying it off, at his own assertion. It gave him the opportunity to lean into that primal urge to break shit, and who were you to take that away from him?

Every few minutes, you’d hear a muted thud, some strangled noises, and a delightful little swear here and there. You’d learned that he quite hated tatami as a kid, annoyed that he had to be careful with it. He was grumpy that he couldn’t run about and stomp his feet like the spoiled child he was because it’d get damaged, then his folks would get mad. Now, he had the perfect excuse to take all that pent up anger out on some actual tatami.

“You think he’s having fun in there?” You asked as you lifted off another slice of the paper, turning it around in the tight pinch you held it in. Most of the words had faded off or bled from whatever liquid got onto it years prior. You could barely make out a cut-off phrase that made you snort. Left fielder is short!

Suguru sneered at the floor. “I sure hope not.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not having fun, so he doesn’t get to have fun, either.”

You rubbed your cheek against your shoulder, fighting the desire to scratch at the itch with your grubby, dirty hands. “Are boys always at each other’s throats like this?”

“Yes,” he answered bluntly, earning a half-laugh, half-cough from you.

You smiled apologetically at him. “I’m sorry. You really don’t have to do this.”

He shook his head as he got up, stripping off his yellow rubber gloves. “I’m not going to back out now after saying I’d help you. I’m gonna keep my word to you. But, I will go grab a drink and think about my life choices outside for a few minutes.”

You breathed out through your nose and waved lazily at him as he stepped out of the open front door, disappearing behind the wall. It was his idea to bring some options for hydration with him, and you lauded him as a genius for it. Even if a quarter of the options were cheap beer.

Deciding you earned yourself a break, too, you tossed whatever else you managed to free from the floor away, along with your gloves, and got up, shaking out your numb legs with a wince. Ow.

Sure, you’d done next to nothing compared to Suguru, but, oh, your back and arms felt so sore. Poor you. He could forgive you, couldn’t he?

Figuring you should check on Satoru, you trod down the hallway and stopped in the open doorway of the room he was occupying. He was turned halfway towards you, hunched over as he scratched aggressively at the floor with something you could only tell was made of metal. Sweat stuck to his forehead in a thick layer, droplets beading and running down his temples and the curve of his jaw. White hairs were plastered to his cheeks and brow, pale lashes clumped together, lips pulled into a wide grin.

A shiver dashed up your spine.

He looked positively feral.

You should probably leave him be, you didn’t want to get caught in his crossfire, lest you end up the target of his destructive goal.

You began to creep away, easing off the doorframe, hoping to avoid–

“Mochi!”

Damnit.

“Heyyy, buddy,” you greeted cautiously, meeting his gaze. His winter blues were alight with an untamed sort of fervor, sunglasses folded into the collar of his button-up. Had the moisture on the small of your back always been there? “How’s it goin’ in here?”

“It’s fuckin’ stubborn, but look!” He waved frantically to a boxy pile of…something. Vaguely tan and clumpy and gross. Listen, you weren’t very peeved out by nasty stuff as a kid, but even child you wouldn’t dare touch it.

Gojo, meanwhile, looked ecstatic, seemingly having figured out a method that worked. More or less.

The corners of your lips twitched upwards into a watery smile. Mainly because you were afraid that he’d pounce on you with that brutish glint in his intense stare if you didn’t show the appropriate amount of enthusiasm for his hard work.

“Wow!” You exclaimed, a smidge stiffly. “You’re doing a great job!”

Satoru ate that shit up. He glowed, preening under your praise, even if it felt like you were talking to a six-year-old kiddo wielding a hammer.

“I know!” He cheered. “This is fun!”

You questioned how long that zeal would last. You also debated whether or not you should tell Suguru that the maniac was having fun. You were curious to see what would happen, but you didn’t want to get dragged into the potential brawl they’d have.

The boy in front of you was panting, the collar of his shirt dampened by the droplets of effort he wiped off with it, and the temperature outside was rapidly rising. As hot as this image was, minus the eugh-factor of your house, you weren’t keen on him dying of exhaustion and leaving you short one extra pair of hands.

How noble of you.

“Wanna come take a break with me and Suguru?” You asked.

He glanced at where he paused his work, back to you, the floor, then you one more time before nodding. “Yeaaah, I did a lot, I deserve a lil’ break.”

He groaned as he pushed on his knees and rose up, absently dusting the front of his pants. You rolled your eyes at his show of theatrics, what with him stretching and whining. Not like you were any better, though.

“C’mon, you big baby,” you stepped out of the doorway, rotating to make your way down the hall.

That was, until you noticed something on the wall beside you. A black dot, or speck you hadn't seen before. A stain, perhaps; a blotch, something dark stuck to the old paint. You could've gotten it dirty(ier) while you were cleaning at some point. You leaned closer to try and decipher it, squinting–

Legs.

Not two, four, or six. Eight legs.

With a gagged gasp, you screeched and immediately booked it out of the house, adrenaline pumping through your system at mach speed. You nearly slipped as you banked the corner, your sights set on the open front door.

The blinding white of day was burning into your retinas, but you couldn’t care, you needed to get the hell out!

Instinctively, you threw yourself into a surprised Suguru’s arms the moment you stepped past the threshold as he peeked into the house, concerned by the commotion. He stumbled back a few steps, eyes wide, then released a humorous chuckle as his arms wrapped protectively around you. Sturdy, strong, safe.

“There, there,” he soothed, stroking a hand up and down your back, fingertips pressing into pressure points along your vertebrae. It was easy enough for him to figure out what got you so panicked. “You’re alright, it’s just a spider. I’ll get rid of it for you.”

“Oh, my god!” You squealed and shook like a leaf, air whistling past your larynx. “Suguru! It’s giant!”

He cooed sweetly at you, obviously entertained by your frazzled state. “It won’t hurt you, you’re fine.”

“I am not fine!”

His laugh rumbled low in his chest, right under your ear as you squeezed the life out of him. “I can’t remove it for you if you don’t let me go, angel.”

You bared your teeth at him. “Don’t you dare leave me.”

Suguru opened his mouth to respond, only to get preemptively cut off by a girlish scream originating from within the house. Seconds later, Satoru was dashing out, colliding directly with you and Suguru. A mix of stifled noises of shock erupted, and all three of you toppled right over onto the hard-packed soil.

Suguru’s arms encased more firmly around your form when Satoru tackled you, one thick arm coming to cradle the back of your head while the other constricted your waist until you were pressed immovably to his front. He pillowed your fall, even though it meant taking the brunt force of the ground’s swift ascent by himself. Satoru collapsed on top of you, leaving you sandwiched between the pair.

This was not how you imagined you’d experience your first yukadon.

Cheek pillowed by a rigid tit. Spine crushed by a dense body. Lungs utterly squashed. Lavender, cypress, and musk overwhelming your olfactory senses. Super sexy.

“Are you fucking stupid, Satoru?” Suguru hissed out, voice strained with pain, compression, and thinly-veiled anger.

“It’s fuckin’ huge, Suguru!” Satoru shrieked back. “Massive! Like, a meter long!”

Amber eyes glared over your head, still clutched to his pec. “Get the hell off, you’re crushing her. And me. You’re heavy as fuck.”

Gojo lifted himself up enough to peer at you, blinked, then laid right back down on top of you. Your wheeze of suffering did nothing to deter him. “But this is so comfy.”

“I will castrate you,” your personal airbag threatened.

Cyan eyes filled with spite as he finally rolled off of you and to the side, allowing Geto to loosen his hold until you could breathe freely. While Satoru was busy grumbling to himself and looking for his glasses, the pair having been flung off in the clamor, Suguru gazed down at you with worry pooled in his softened hues.

“You okay?” He asked.

You wiggled your toes and fingers, then nodded. “Thanks to you. I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me,” he put away your disquiet with a smile.

You frowned at his attempt at paying no heed to the subject. “That was a pretty bad fall.”

He snorted. “I work on a farm and grew up with Satoru. I’d hardly consider that a fall.”

“Oi!” Speak of the devil. The snow-haired boy had located his glasses, it seemed, as they were resting on the bridge of his nose, free of dirt and dust by some miracle. “Get up already, lovebirds.”

Fire exploded across your cheeks and the tips of your ears as you realized the position you were in – straddling your friend’s waist, chest-to-chest, his strong arms enclosing you to keep you close.

You yelped and scrambled out of his hold, keenly aware that you were only able to leap off of him and stagger away because he let you do so. He was laughing breathlessly as he pushed himself up into a sitting position, endeared by your embarrassed reaction. He grabbed the hand his best friend offered him, their palms clapping as he got tugged onto his feet.

Meanwhile, you were fanning your face in a hopeless attempt to cool the steam lifting from your head, swearing up and down that it was the budding summer heat and not because you got stacked like pancakes by two unreasonably attractive men.

Yeah, that’s what it was.

The sun.

The literal sun, not the sun incarnated in the form of a man that was currently busy brushing off his pants, aided by Satoru clearing his back of debris.

Thank the gods you had tossed the murderous stepping stones off to one corner of the house just a few days prior. You did not want to think about what would have happened to Suguru’s pretty body if you hadn’t.

“You sure you’re okay?” The above-mentioned man with said pretty body called out to you.

You startled in place and cried out the first thing that came to mind. “You’re hot!” Fuck. “I-I mean, it’s– it’s hot! Outside! Right now! We should, uh, stop here for the day!”

Good save.

Dumbass.

You would have smacked your own head with a brick if it wouldn’t attract their attention and make them think you were crazy. Or worse. Turned on.

Suguru and Satoru shared a glance, exchanging in a silent conversation, then Satoru was walking over to the bag of snacks the former brought along, digging around it for a can of soda. He retrieved a separate can of light booze for the other boy, passing it along as they both shortened the distance between you.

“You sure you wanna call it for the day?” Geto asked, his drink opening with an acute crack and tss, shortly followed by Gojo’s. Thank God they seemed to worn to tease you for your slip up.

Breathing deeply to settle your nerves, you dipped your head twice. “Yeah, it’s starting to get too hot for me.”

For too many damn reasons.

He hummed, sipping his drink as he peered at the chalk-haired boy, who took a sizable gulp in comparison. “Fine by me,” he ground out past the tingle of carbonation, fingers threading through damp, white tresses. “I don’t wanna die of heatstroke.”

“How about we head to the park, then?” Suguru suggested as he stepped away to shut the front door, like that’d prevent intruders or something. The extra security was unneeded, the house itself was enough of a deterrent. “We can stop at Granny’s on the way.”

“Sure,” you assented rather easily. You liked the park. Sitting in the shade, surrounded by the sweet fragrance of the flora there, sounded like a wonderful idea.

Satoru was not as keen. “In this heat? No way.”

His best friend patted his shoulder, gulping down a swig of his drink before responding. “You gotta touch grass at least once in a while, dude. C’mon, it won’t be so bad.”

“Fine. But if I die, I’m haunting you.”

“You’re not gonna die, don’t be a drama queen,” he said pragmatically.

You simpered to yourself as you went to grab Suguru’s backpack, zipping it up to keep everything inside. The last thing you needed was to embarrass yourself more by spilling everything. You grabbed one of the straps, ready to hoist it over your shoulder, just for a big hand to grab it by the top handle and tug it out of your palms.

You didn’t even get a second to prepare to fight for it, the coarse material easily slipping from your grip in a pathetic display of weakness. Your guard wasn’t up. You never stand a chance.

Your head snapped up to find Geto himself, his bag resting against his back as he held it by that same handle, fingers half-closed near his shoulder. He gave you a charming grin, eyes squinted from the squish of his cheeks.

“Hey!” You gaped, hopping up to your feet. “I can carry it, I’m not helpless!”

The hell you aren’t.

He tipped his head back to finish off his drink, his Adam’s apple bobbing and causing more sweat to form on your brow, then tucked the empty can into his pocket to properly toss out later. “You aren’t,” he agreed, ruffling your hair affectionately with his now free hand, “but what kind of gentleman would I be if I let the lovely lady do all the work?”

All the work? You barely did any work. But, you did like being called lovely, so you supposed you could let it go this once.

Satoru scoffed. “Gentleman? You watched Shoko lug a heavy ass box of shit up two flights of stairs just last week. Hardly call that gentlemanly.”

“You think I’m going anywhere near Shoko and her medical supplies?” Honey-toned irises shifted from you to him. “Hell no. She’d have my head on a pike if I even got close to them.”

“You won’t hold the door open for Utahime,” he accused.

“I’ve held the door for her before. The only person I wouldn’t hold the door for is you, Satoru,” Suguru’s hand drifted to rest below the nape of your neck, scorching the exposed skin there.

He pressed lightly, urging you to start walking with them in the direction of town.

The 6’3” child moped, his eyes drooping. “My own best friend hates me. Practically my brother, and he wants me to die.”

Geto rolled his eyes and bent down to stage-whisper to you. “Drama queen.”

“I heard that!” Satoru exclaimed.

“That was the point.”

You sighed with levity, shaking your head. “Could you two at least try to not kill each other until we get to Granny’s?”

“No promises,” they both responded in unison.

They bickered back and forth over your head, one using you as a shield while the other used you as an excuse to ‘behave’. Not that it stopped either of them from hurling immature threats and insults, each one making you think about how a butterfly felt more scary than either of them.

Or, your presence was taming them after all, and they were more vicious when they didn’t have someone standing guard. What would happen if you were on the other side of one of them? Would the result be the same?

Since when were you into psychology?

“Oi,” a finger jabbed into your cheek, bringing you back to the present, where your trio was crossing over the bridge. “Don’t zone out. Pay attention to me.”

You sent the offending boy a sidelong glance, meeting his intensely cobalt, insisting stare, yet he reveled in it all the same. Attention was attention.

“I’m not zoning out,” liar, “I’m just thinking.”

“About what? About us?” He teased, poking your cheek again.

He squawked and jumped back when you bluffed a strike at him, your teeth snapping dangerously close to his finger.

“Not like that!” He hissed, nursing his finger to his chest. He went as far as pressing the digit against the likely lukewarm can of soda he still had, exaggerating his obvious injury. You know, the one that didn’t exist.

Suguru barked out a laugh. “Like I said; drama queen.”

Satoru harrumphed, mumbling incoherent grievances as he pressed the rim of his drink to his lips, presumably to ‘politely’ muffle his quips with sips of carbonation.

You wanted to bully him a little more, ribbing him when you had the high ground was too much fun.

Geto would probably have more material for you to work with.

“Hey, Suguwu, do you–” you abruptly cut yourself off and slapped a hand over your mouth.

So much for high ground.

Satoru snorted his soda out through his nose and yowled, crying out in pain between guffaws as he clutched his hand over his lips in a hopeless attempt to catch any spare liquid.

Suguru raised a brow at you, a bemused smile spreading lazily across his face, turning his eyes into mirthful, mischievous crescents. “Pardon?”

Your entire face glowing a deep shade of vermillion. “I– can we just pretend–”

“Suguwu!” Gojo wheezed, arms coiling around his stomach, free hand grasping the side of his shirt for dear life. “Y’hear that, Suguwu? Think the lady has something to say, Suguwu. Hah!”

“Don't tease her so much, Satoru. I think it's cute,” he said, adjusting his backpack to hang on his back by one strap.

“Can you, please, just let me die now,” you grumbled, hiding your face with your hand placed flat along the side. You felt like you pulled the pin on a flashbang but forgot to throw it.

Gojo wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm, coughing out whatever liquid had gotten caught down the wrong pipe. You could hear him crooning at you, but you were trying desperately to focus on your destination as it came into view, hoping and praying that Granny would save you.

Or someone, anyone, else.

“Hello!”

Prayers answered! For once!

Your head perked up at the sound of a familiar voice as you approached the store, and you were immensely grateful for the divine timing of your arrival. Candied reprieve kissed your skin, easing your humiliation right away.

“Iori-san!” You called back, returning the wave she sent you in greeting. Spotting a head of brunette hair next to her, you shifted your attention to her companion, lighting up further with both relief and joy. “Oh, hey–”

“Aha!” Satoru jogged forward and spun around, throwing his arm around a less-than-amused Shoko’s shoulders. “This is Ieiri Shoko, she’s the doctor I warn– told you about!”

“Ah, we already met,” you grinned at Shoko, who gave you a ‘can you believe this shit?’ look.

“Wait, what?” He blinked at you. “Really?”

You nodded in confirmation. “Yeah. She called you an idiot.”

Suguru snorted into his palm, briskly facing away to poorly conceal his swallowed back laughter.

Satoru balked, blinking between you and your mutual friend when she shoved his arm off her. “When was this?”

“Uh…” You pressed your curved index against your chin, calculating. “Same day you and I met, actually.”

He looked completely aghast, utterly betrayed. “Wh– that was ages ago! Why didn’t you tell me!?”

You lifted and dropped your shoulders, grinning sheepishly. “Didn’t cross my mind?”

Deflating with a wispy wheeze that imitated a sad balloon, he pouted and turned his back on the entire group. “Can’t trust anyone around here. Keepin’ secrets, callin’ me a drama queen and an idiot.

Shoko rolled her eyes. “You are a drama queen and an idiot, Satoru,” she grunted and shook her head, then shot a relaxed smile your way. “Thanks for the macarons, by the way. They were delicious.”

“Yeah!” Utahime bobbed her head. “You’re an amazing baker.”

You scratched your neck with one hand and patted Satoru’s back with the other to comfort him. “I actually only know how to make macarons.”

Utahime shuffled closer to you, mouth parted with disbelief. “What? No way! I bet you’d make a great baker! Nothing like that idiot over there,” the bridge of her nose wrinkled with distaste as she sent the whining baby a scathing side-eye.

“I told you she bullies me!” He was looking your way in an instant. “It’s her fault I’m like this! How is any of this fair?”

“She’s older than you, so she gets to bully you,” Shoko stated. “Sibling rules.”

“We are not siblings!” Utahime shouted, nose and forehead flushed red with anger. “Shoko! How could you say that!”

Satoru took that statement and ran. “By that logic, I get to bully Suguru!”

“You already do,” Geto responded.

You blinked, and found a face unexpectedly very close to yours. “What about you, huh?” Ocean blues pierced into the depths of your soul. “You bully me a lot, too. Does that mean you’re older than me– agh!”

He clutched the back of his head where Iori had landed an expert hit, delivered with a precision mastered only after years of training. “Jerk! Don’t you know not to ask a woman her age!?”

“Why is everyone abusing me today? What did I do to any of you, huh?” He sniffled, bottom lip jutting out as he pinned his watery, puppy-dog eyes on you.

Okay, now you were starting to feel bad. Letting go of a shallow, defeated exhale, you opened your arms to him.

His expression changed to glee faster than you could realize, and within seconds, you were being crushed against his chest. You didn’t give consideration to how strong he was, woefully unaware that his forearms alone could exert enough pressure on your limbs to make a few joints pop.

“Yippee! I knew someone cared about me!” He stuck his tongue out at everyone else, then nuzzled himself deep into the crook of your neck.

Too hot, too hot, too hot!

“Yeah, yeah,” you hacked out, patting his back. “You can let me go, now.”

“No way,” he refused, breath tickling your collarbone. “This is the least I deserve.”

Shoko was in your peripheral, a wicked smirk on her lips as she stuck a cigarette between them. You mouthed help me to her, and gaped when she pretended to get distracted and miss your S.O.S. request.

Screw Shoko, Utahime was your favorite person now. She was by you in a snap, prying the arms of steel keeping you caged off of you. Her strength was impressive, especially given that Satoru was actively fighting her on it. There was a hand on your shoulder, coaxing you to duck down under their arms, and dash into the safe haven that was Granny’s shop.

Sweet, sweet AC.

You visibly shuddered as a blast of arctic air hit you. Heaven was in all the things easily taken for granted.

The chime of the bell summoned the old lady out of thin air – or it might have been her ‘you’ senses, she had a keen perception for when you’d be coming.

“Oh, hello!” She welcomed you warmly, wholly ignoring the second person with you as she scurried across the floor to reach you.

Granny grasped you by the shoulders and pulled you close, pressing a couple wet, loud kisses on your cheeks, right in front of your ears, making your eardrums pop. Your theory that the sound of kisses grew louder with age was gaining credence.

“How are you feeling, dear? You aren’t working too hard, are you?” She planted the back of her hand against your forehead, steamrolling right along and not giving you a chance to respond. “Oh, my, you’re so warm! Are you feeling feverish? Sick? I’m telling you, you should leave that house to the men who are used to working in those conditions.”

“Granny–”

“Sit, sit, let me get you some water,” she nudged you towards the familiar stool you’d taken respite on many times now, ready to zip away to retrieve that promised glass of water.

“Hey, Granny,” Suguru interrupted that plan by raising a hand in greeting, only to be subsequently pummeled by an angered grandmother. “Ow–”

“Some man you are, letting a lady get ill!” She shamed him.

You immediately hopped up, bolting to his rescue. “Granny! Granny, I’m not sick, it’s okay! It’s just hot outside today.”

She stopped her volley of attacks on the poor, innocent man to take in your appearance. She lifted your arms, eyeing down your figure carefully, then hmphed.

“My apologies, darling,” she reached up to pinch Suguru’s cheek, which somehow looked more painful than the fairly weak smacks she delivered earlier. She was easily able to tug him down to be eye-to-eye with her. “But you have been taking care of her, haven’t you?”

Still, he put on a smile and nodded. “Of course, I have been.”

She smiled broadly at him and released his cheek, patting it gently twice. “My, what a good boy you are. But, if I hear you’ve been mistreating her, I won’t hesitate to beat you with my geta and bury you beside that fish of yours.”

Suguru grimaced as he rubbed the tender spot she had pinched, rising back up to his full height. “Ouch, Granny. Don’t worry, I’ve been keeping an eye on her.”

You planted your hands on your hips, eye twitching with irritation. “I’m right here. And, I can take care of myself, you know?”

“I carry extra bottles of water because you always underestimate how thirsty you get,” he fired back. “You sweat it out faster than you think you do.”

You coughed into your fist. That was fucking embarrassing. Now you were worried you had a sweating problem. “Maybe I’m a little forgetful, but it’s not that bad.”

This time, Granny was on your ass. “You need to take better care of yourself!”

“Granny–”

“What if you didn’t have such a dependable, strong, young man to take care of you?” She tutted in disappointment. “What about when your husband is away at work?” – HUSBAND!? – “Will you forget to drink water then, too?”

You half-inhaled your spit, looking up towards Suguru for help in getting out of your pseudo-grandmother’s scolding–

You almost questioned if you were imagining the flashing dots outlining him – or, rather, where he used to be. A quick twist of your head proved he had already sauntered off somewhere towards the back of the store, if the thump of a fridge door was anything to go by.

“Are you listening to me, young lady?” Holy shit, for being an older woman, her pinches hurt.

“Ai– yes, I’m listening,” you assured her, wincing. Looks like you had no savior to get you out of this one. There was some muffled yelling outside the glass pane behind you, implying that the three that didn’t come in were too busy squabbling to see you getting reprimanded.

Though, knowing Satoru, he’d just use this as ammunition against you.

She jiggled your cheek. “Very good. You’re a beautiful woman, you need to take care of yourself. Lots of water, avoid direct sunlight, make sure you eat well, all that. Understood?”

“Understood,” you assented.

That good-natured smile of hers was back, and you were pulled into yet another hug. “D’aw, I can’t stay mad at you, you’re too sweet. Don’t go letting anyone take advantage of that.”

There was only so much of the embrace you could return when your arms were pinned to your sides by your unnaturally brawny kinda-grandma, leaving you to awkwardly prop your chin on her shoulder. “I know, Granny.”

That was a lesson you learned a long time ago.

You observed Suguru as he walked between the aisles while he grabbed some stuff, his head sticking out high above the shelves. When he emerged back out at the front, you were seated on the stool that basically belonged to you at this point. He carefully set his gathered spoils on the counter next to the cash register, then slipped past you to go behind the counter.

His hand briefly rubbed your knee, something you noticed he did from time to time. While he wasn’t nearly as touchy as Satoru, who didn’t know the definition of personal space, he did often give you comforting nudges like that.

You noted with curiosity how familiar he seemed with ringing up his products by himself, working swiftly to tally them. Based on Granny’s lack of reaction when she returned with a mug, she trusted him to pay properly.

Smooth ceramic was placed within your palms, and you brought it up to guzzle down the life-saving liquid within. Damn, Suguru was right, you had no idea how thirsty you were. In terms of hydration, anyway. You were painfully aware of your other shortcomings.

“How’s that house of yours coming along?” She asked, resting a weathered hand on your upper thigh.

You hummed past a gulp, then answered. “Good, I think. We’re still washing the floors, but we’ve already cleaned up a lot. Satoru’s been dealing with the tatami in one of the rooms. It’s been stubborn as hell so far.”

“Try soaking it for a while beforehand,” she suggested. “And ventilate well. Goodness knows what’s been in there.”

Comforting. “We have been, don’t worry. Suguru managed to get all the windows open, which has been a huge relief.”

The elder leaned in close to you, ‘whispering’ in what could have only been a singular decibel quieter than normal talking. “See? Reliable, strong man. He’d take good care of you, I’ve known him since he was a child. Very dependable.”

Wha–

Was she trying to set you up with him!?

You glared at him when you heard him laughing under his breath, having heard her suggestion. It’d be more shocking if he didn’t.

Instead of coming to dispel her wild offer, he stuffed his goods away into a bag and walked towards the exit. You got up to follow after hastily finishing your drink and letting her take the empty mug from you, fully intending to give them both a piece of your mind the next chance you got. “Thank you for the water, Granny. We’ll head out, now.”

“I left some extra cash for you, Granny,” Suguru said as he held the door open for you. “From my mom, paying you back.”

She clicked her tongue. “I told her not to worry about it. Be safe, you two. Suguru, tell your mother to sleep with one eye open.”

“Will do,” he agreed too easily for such a casual threat, pushing you out into the humid summer air, and you were tempted to return to the sanctity of her air-conditioned shop.

“You’re back! Thank God!” Utahime ushered you further away from your salvation, to which you whined and peered back at it forlornly. “Come with me to the shrine! I found more mythological history books recently, and you promised to tell me about Sne– sneguh– snah?”

“Snegurochka,” you corrected.

“Yeah! Her!”

A limb wrapped around your middle, drawing you back into a board chest. “No can do, Utahime!” Satoru shut her down cheerily, pressing his cheek against yours. “She already agreed to go on a date with me to the park.”

Utahime’s appalled expression was mirrored in your own. Her upper lip lifted in a snarl directed at your captor and…date, apparently.

“Like hell! I’m not letting you corrupt my friend!” She growled.

“Corrupt?” He pouted, playing the part of virtuous maiden. “Me? Why, I’d never.”

Suguru crossed his arms over his chest. “With us, Satoru. Don’t forget about me.”

“Hard to when your head is so big,” the other boy snapped in return.

You gawked at Geto, disbelieving. He was supposed to be your savior! “It is not a date! Don’t go making Iori-san and Shoko think the wrong things!”

“Welp, I gotta head back to the clinic,” Shoko said as her name was called, beginning to walk past. She patted your bicep on the way. “Good luck.”

“Shoko!” You cried out after her. “Come back here!”

She merely waved over her shoulder with her cigarette pinched between her fingers, blowing out a stream of smoke.

Utahime cupped your face in her hands, expression taut with seriousness. “Blink twice if they’re holding you prisoner.”

You heard ‘blink’ and went with it, batting your eyes as fast as you could.

“I knew it!” She bayed, tugging at Satoru’s arms – but she couldn’t free you. “Let go of her, you dog!”

He jerked his head towards the hill her shrine sat atop and gasped theatrically. “Oh, no! Is that a fire near your shrine?”

“What!?” She whirled around in horror, opening up the opportunity for him to tow you away, one arm staying around your waist while he led you into an unwilling sprint.

“Ohp, so sorry, guess I was wrong!” He yelled back, giggling at the rage painted all over her twisted expression.

“Satoru!” She shrieked, watching with grit teeth as Suguru jogged to catch up. “Yeah! Get him, Suguru–” Her jaw dropped when he grabbed your hand with his free one, making you run faster. “Oh, Heaven’s sake, not you, too!”

What the fuck! You didn’t agree to extra exercise today! And poor Utahime! You really hoped she wasn’t assuming things about your relationship with the men.

“Hey– guys! Slow down, damnit!” You heaved out. “Ugh! You two are awful!”

They simply laughed, hauling you right along to the park. Their long ass strides made this hell for you, and you were certain that if the park wasn’t so close, you would have eaten shit and died from the amount of times you stumbled. Their tight grips kept you from falling, and you partially wished they’d just let you collapse.

Pavement gave way to grass, the impact of your shoes becoming dulled. After running a few steps further, they finally gave you mercy and let go of you, slowing their gaits to a stop.

You slapped your hands against your knees, greedily sucking in air through the ache in your throat.

“You two–” pant, “really–” pant, “fucking–” pant, “suck.”

Satoru snickered and smoothed a hand over your messy tendrils, ignoring your death stare, finding it humorous in your current state. “Aww, come on! That was fun!”

“You’re gonna give Iori-san and Shoko the wrong idea,” you groaned, wiping wetness off your brow.

He feigned innocence. “What idea?”

Bastard.

“That we– tch,” you took in one more deep breath to catch your breath. “Nevermind. Shut up.”

“Don’t be like that!” He purred, right on your tail as you trudged to a nearby maple tree.

With the impromptu run, plus the season, the heat was finally getting to you. For all of Satoru’s bravado, you took solace in the fact that it also looked like the temperature was affecting him.

You flopped down under a maple tree you picked out and loafed back on your palms, trying to survive the immense wave of evil weather that chose to sweep across the valley. You felt like you were turning into a prune, or a sponge that got tossed into an oven set on broil, despite all the sweating. You weren’t a stranger to high summer temperatures, but this was asininity.

Somehow, you survived the trip to the park, mourning the glacial morning dew that had long since evaporated, leaving the grass tepid at best. But you’d take anything, whatever it cost to keep you from roasting like a fine crème brûlée.

Satoru dropped down beside you, not doing much better than you, and Suguru slumped against the bark of the hulking plant, taking respite under it.

The shrill songs of cicadas took presence everywhere, chirping and pestering the females in hopes of copulating and passing along their live-underground-for-17-years genes.

You were immensely happy that you managed to clear out most of your lawn before the true harshness of the season kicked into full swing. You would not have lived through that, and doing it at night would have been too dangerous.

Work was very far from what you wanted to think about, though.

“Why the fuck is Japan so hot in summer,” you lamented, lethargically fanning yourself with a slack hand. It did zilch to help. “How do you deal with this?”

You squealed when something chilly touched your forehead and squinted up to see Suguru holding out a popsicle to you. You grabbed it without a second thought and ripped off the plastic covering, stuffing the crumpled ball back in his awaiting hand.

Sweet, cold, saintly watermelon spread over your tongue and you ascended, tilting your head back as you nursed the popsicle like it was the ambrosia of the gods themselves.

Satoru skewed over and dropped his head on your shoulder, making you lour at him. You very much did not need someone else’s muggy body heat worsening the already unbearably humid air.

“Fan me,” he demanded, and you poked his cheek with your popsicle, leaving a sticky spot behind.

“Fan yourself,” you rejected.

Suguru chuckled to himself. “You’ll get used to it and learn how to manage.”

“Speak for yourself,” the man using your side as a bed snarked. “Been here my whole life and I still feel like I’m dying.”

You chomped off a bite of your snack with your molars, flinching at the slight sting, then relaxed as the chunk rested on your tongue. Bless Suguru and his mother hen tendencies. Towards you, anyway. He seemed to find humor in his best friend’s suffering up to a certain point.

The newly purchased, refrigerated, highly-sugary fizz he bought while at the store showed he did care at the end of the day.

Summer in rural Japan smelled nice. That was about all the praise you were capable of giving this hellish landscape when you were getting steamed like a damn dumpling. Winter you could deal with; in winter, you could just add extra clothes or blankets or whatever for more warmth. You could only get so naked in summer before you were melting into a gross puddle.

“I wanna skin myself,” you slurred around your icy treat.

Suguru snorted. “That’s morbid.”

You bored into him blankly, examining his clothes – light-colored long sleeves and full-length, loose pants versus your tank top and flappy shorts. “How the hell are you dealing with this so well?”

He simply shrugged and gave you that closed-eye smile that always had your insides doing funky things they flat-out were not allowed to do. “I’ve always preferred summer.”

Hm. It added up. You always associated him with the sun – warm, inviting, making you want to lay somewhere soft and bask in his glow. But that feeling was warmth, not sweltering fire making your muscles shed off your very bones.

“You’re a beast,” you mumbled, unsure if you were admiring or fearing him. “What ‘bout you, Toru?”

“Ehh?”

“Season.”

“What about it?”

You whined and placed your head on his. “Pay attention, idiot.”

“Well, excuse me, princess. I’m busy trying to not die of heatstroke over here,” he pinched your thigh, making you yelp.

You flicked the back of his hand in retaliation. “What’s your favorite season?”

“Oh,” he pried his limpid orbs open and eyed you from over the rim of his sunglasses. Those glistening, forget-me-not hues never failed to whisk your breath away. “Spring.”

“Good choice,” you approved.

Suguru bent down from the tree, angling his head to the side as he pointed a finger at himself. “Oh? Is my choice not good?”

“Ask me again when I don’t feel like I’m evaporating,” you muttered, taking another bite of your ice snack and plainting at the sharp pain radiating in your teeth for a few seconds. He merely laughed in the voice that had you feeling twice as flushed, instantly soothing the pain away.

“Don’t eat it like that if it just hurts you,” the silver-blond grumbled, his eyes already closed again as he fought to fend off the temperature mentally, if he couldn’t spare himself physically.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you huffed pettishly.

You partially closed your eyes and lazed back on your free palm, absentmindedly licking up the melted drips before they landed on your hand and coated it in residue. More than they already had, anyway.

A welcomed breeze rustled through the leaves of the trees surrounding you, a relieving balm against scalding skin that had all three of you sighing in alleviation. It rustled the yellow of the leaves above your head, creating a mesmerizing show of dancing golden fans, their edges dipped in crimson.

The droning chirps of cicadas, the tweets of birds calling to their brooding mates as they brought back food from a successful hunt, the fragrance of blooming flowers being pollinated, having their nectar gathered in preparation for being turned into honey – all of it surrounded you in a deep serenity you didn’t know you were capable of feeling.

Your head was optimistically empty, merely taking in the ambiance in fine detail. The lush, fluffy grass underhand tickled your wrist and the back of your hand, and the pleasant silence with your closest friends made you…happy.

You’d been happy for a while now, but never stopped to notice it until this moment.

You found two idiots and two other kind-of-normal people to call friends, and you always ardently anticipated hanging out with them, rather than dreading it. You were pouty when they were busy, and ecstatic when you could all gather together.

Especially these two dumbasses, Tweedledee and Tweedledum. You spent most of your time with them, doing things that reminded you of the nostalgic highschool and college years you didn’t recall having.

You ruminated on how different your life would have been if you knew them from childhood; if you went to school with them, grew up as neighbors, mourned when Satoru left for his studies, celebrated when he returned. Would you have still ended up like this, a paranoid kite that was running out of thread to cut?

Or would you have been normal – or, at least, normal-adjacent? How would being raised in Japan differ from your home nation?

…

Home nation.

What was your home nation, again?

All that came to mind was here, now, with your best friends on either side of you. You knew where you were born, but that seemed so far away, now. You didn’t remember what the sky looked like over there – if you caught a glimpse of it at all in the first place.

Reflecting back left an odd emotion welling in your chest, like you were forgetting something. You wouldn’t say melancholy, nor yearning. It wasn’t nostalgia, either, seeing as you were semi-nomadic for a good portion of your life. You didn’t stay in one place long enough to form attachments to anyone or anything.

When you tried to think about your childhood friends, you saw Geto, Gojo, Ieiri, and Iori. The boys were smaller, childlike, with chubbier cheeks and brattier attitudes, but your boys regardless. You remembered how Satoru was the class clown that frequently set off your teachers, while Suguru egged him on from the backlines, purposefully getting on his nerves.

Shoko was there, too, watching with a shit-eating grin and not doing anything to help. Utahime at least tried.

And then there was you.

You didn’t really know if you were there or not. Just a spectator, possibly, but it didn’t seem like that. Not an empty, silent, emotionless observer, no. You couldn’t put your finger on it. What you were was there, on the tip of your tongue, you just didn’t know the word for it.

These memories weren’t real, you knew that. But it didn’t hurt to imagine they were, especially when they felt like they were.

You could see yourself growing up with them, spending days lazing under the shade just like you were now, losing half the water in your body under the unforgiving summer sun and turning into a sort of sad excuse for a cucumber. You could remember the sharp sting of a wadded up piece of paper hitting your temple from across the table, your head shooting up so you could glare at jubilant Satoru that concluded throwing notes at you from two feet away was a better use of his time than just whispering or, gods forbid, studying.

You were certain he did it specifically because it pissed you off, and because he was unafraid of repercussions from the teacher. Discipline didn’t exist in his dictionary. Suguru would grab the wad from your other side to toss it right back and nail his best friend in the center of his forehead, leading to a paper ball fight that you were, unfortunately, directly in the middle of.

Shoko and Utahime, the lucky bitches, were smart to choose seats a few tables back, safely out of the firing and collateral range.

You tried to join the two several times, yet the boys somehow always managed to sit you right back between them. You were their ‘mediator’, even though you tended to exhort them rather than soothe. You did calm them down, but only after you, Shoko, and Utahime had a good show. It was payback for all the times they dragged you into their messes.

Other memories filtered in bit by bit, sporadic sections popping up as they pleased; dying on the track field together, sparring against one another, learning vague concepts in a classroom that scarcely had anyone in it. You and Satoru would crack stupid jokes until you were both in stitches, Suguru would be there when your thoughts became too much to handle, Shoko was the one to mend you with a touch that felt both toasty and mellow at the same time.

There weren’t a lot of you, but you had each other, and that was all you needed. You had your friends by your side, and you were complete.

You were pulled from your woolgathering when you felt someone pluck your popsicle from your hand, your eyes flying open to gawp at Suguru in disbelief as he took a sizable bite out of it, then returned it innocently, as if he hadn’t just robbed you blind.

“Hey!” You cried out. “Thief! That was mine! You said you were fine in summer!”

“I said I prefer summer, not that I’m immune to it,” he corrected you, licking off a spot of juice from the corner of his mouth. Such a simple action from him legally wasn’t allowed to be that devastatingly attractive, yet here he was, casually breaking the law and sending you into disarray. “Besides, I paid for it.”

“Unfair,” you pouted, staring down at your now half-gone heatstroke preventer. “You can’t just give me something, then take it back.”

He chuckled and knelt beside you. “Relax, I’ll buy you another one.”

You instantly perked up. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“Will you buy one for me, too, Suguwu?” Satoru flapped his long eyelashes and stuck out his lower lip.

“No.”

“What!?” He sprung upright. “Now that’s unfair! It’s favoritism!”

Suguru snorted and dropped the bag between your knee and Satoru’s, which the latter took to like a raccoon to a dumpster. He dug around inside the plastic until he located his drink and held it up like Arthur did with Excalibur.

Only Gojo could down this amount of sugar in a single day and not suffer the consequences, you mused, watching him greedily gulp at the borderline dessert. Maybe there was some merit to his body being godly, after all.

“Hey,” Gojo called out after chugging a solid 2/3rds of the soda. “What are those, uhhhh…maple syrup snow candies called?”

“I think they're just called maple syrup snow candies,” you filled in.

“Maple candy, or maple taffy,” Suguru enlightened you. “Popular treat in winter in Canada.”

Satoru gave a thumbs-up in appreciation. “Yeah, those. I want one of those.”

You lamented. “It’s the middle of summer.”

“But they sound so cold and good. Mm…I can taste it already. I just know they'd save me from this god awful heat. Thanks for the soda, by the way, Suguru.”

Geto hummed in acknowledgement.

An idea flittered into your mind and you sat ramrod straight, clapping your hands together and grabbing their attention. Satoru grunted, slipping partially off you. “Let’s go to the river!”

“Hm,” Suguru considered it. “Not a bad idea, might help us cool down.”

You celebrated at obtaining his approval and passed the rest of your popsicle to Satoru, who devoured it in a single chomp.

A large hand was offered to you in way of assistance and you grabbed it, getting pulled easily with a short ‘hup’ from your aide. He inspected your form for a moment, then plucked a fallen leaf from the top of your head, twisting it between his digits. When a gale lifted, he released it, letting the unseen hands of the sky carry it away.

Satoru was up on his feet, too, the plastic bag in his hand crinkling from the shift in position. “Let’s go!”

He took the lead, speed-walking through the park to reach the shallow slope that allowed easy access to the river. For someone who was about as dead as you minutes ago, he obtained an infectiously energetic zest out of nowhere. Motivation is a hell of a drug.

You caught up to him and skipped forward, unburdened by needing to carry anything like the pair. Already able to feel the refreshing bite of the water as it came into view, you picked up the pace, racing towards the cure to your ails.

You tore off your tank top in the process and threw it somewhere carelessly, stumbling out of your sandals as you neared upon the shoreline of the river. Leaving them behind on a boulder, you skidded down the bank to the icy waters and jumped in, dressed in your shorts and sports bra.

A shrill cry and jubilant hoot echoed in the valley as goosebumps coated your skin, prickling the hair on your arms and nape. Frigid liquid surrounded you, abruptly replacing torrid solstice with frozen tundra.

“Fuck, cold!”

Satoru was rolling up his pant legs, his own button-up having been disposed of like your top. Just as eager to experience the same liberation you did, he toed off his shoes and ripped off his socks, then he was kicking up water next to you as he joined you. The crystalline liquid came to about mid-thigh for him, but that didn’t stop you being able to see all the hairs on his body stand on end all at once.

“Cold!” He echoed you.

You laughed, running your wet hands through your hair. “That’s what I’m saying!”

Not wasting a second, he threw a handful of water onto you, making you twist your body to avoid the splash. You shrieked from the pellets of frost raining down on you, his icy-toned orbs brimming with mirth at your reaction.

Suguru was still on the shore, more composed and patient than either you or his best friend. He went about methodically locating both your and Satoru’s shirts, setting them down on the ground beside the bag and his backpack, then focused on his own clothes.

He slipped off his shoes and socks, rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and legs of his pants, and stepped into the river.

Just to get grabbed and pulled further in by Satoru before he could get acclimated to the pressure of the running stream.

He took in a shallow breath, bounding forward to keep his balance and not fall splat into the rapid. “Satoru!”

“Come on!” Lanky fingers pushed back ivory hair. “Relax a bit, would ya?”

Chestnut eyes narrowed. “There’s a difference between relaxing and getting waterboarded.”

Gojo huffed. “Yeah? How would you know what getting waterboarded feels like?”

“How many times have you nearly drowned me in your hot spring?”

“Doesn’t count.”

“It does count!”

The two were distracted, arguing about drowning technicalities, which meant they weren’t paying attention to you.

Perfect.

You sank down into the flowing water, shivering from the hibernal wet as it surrounded you. Once you were absolutely certain they had no idea what you were up to, you made your move.

Crawling along the riverbed, you let the flow guide you, using the sound of water breaking to further creep up on your companions.

You could hear the Jaws theme slowly ramping up in your mind, each beat growing louder as you neared. Trembles wracked your body, caused by a mesh of the nippy waters and budding adrenaline.

A little further, you were too far…still too far…almost…

“Rrah!” You jumped out the moment you were within range of your target, unleashing your fiercest battle roar as you threw yourself onto Satoru’s back and wrapped your arms around his neck.

The man choked in surprise, and based on the way he promptly lost balance and dropped like a rock into the waters with a heady splash, you could proudly say you caught him off guard. You both surfaced with deep gasps of breath, and you were on top of him as soon as he sat up.

Using your position of straddling his thighs to your advantage, you skipped past the torture and went straight for the kill.

Your fingers grabbed his sides and started lightly scratching at them.

Satoru hiccuped and howled, writhing and trying to shove you off him as you attacked him with endless tickles. “Wait! S-Stop, no! That tickles!”

“Give up your throne, Gojo Satoru!” You demanded, doubling down on the siege on his crown. “Name me king, or I will never stop!”

He easily turned into a blubbering mess despite his attempts to stay stoic and strong. “N-No way! Oh, god– stop! Please!”

“Not until you hand me your crown!”

“Never! I’ll–” you pinched his hip and he yowled. “Okay! Fuck, fine, it’s yours, just spare me! Please!”

“Yes!” You released him at long last and threw your arms in the air in victory. “I’m the king of this valley! Haha, suck it!”

You climbed off Satoru as he took deep breaths to calm himself, turning your focus on Suguru, who was losing his shit on the shoreline. Wheezes slipped past his lips, the boy barely getting a chance to inhale before he was cackling all over again.

Standing with your legs shoulder-width apart and one fist on your hip, you pointed at Geto authoritatively. “You! Surrender to me now or face the punishment of one thousand tickles for defying the king!

“Oh, god,” he heaved, arms clutching his ribs to keep himself together. Bunny lines formed on the bridge of his nose, brows pinched tight, tears springing to the corners of his amber eyes. “I can’t, the threat of tickles is too much. I surrender, I surrender!”

“The king is triumphant! All hail the king!” You thundered, throwing your head back to unleash a demonic chortle that soon turned into real laughter. “Mark my words, on this da–”

Powerful hands pushed against your side, and you went crashing unceremoniously into the river.

Poor Suguru was wiping away more tears at the point of you reemerging, flushed red from head to toe from the exertion.

“This is a coup!” Satoru announced. “I’m taking back the crown!”

“Wh– no fair!” You objected, wiping your face free of water. “I won that fair and square!”

He beamed down at you, summer skies reflected in his spring eyes. “Come and get it, then!”

An all-out war was waged then between you and Satoru, a motley of screams, hollers, and demands getting thrown back and forth at one another. The activity and sweltering sun kept your blood thermal within the oasis of the numbing waterway.

This pearl of time belonged to the three of you and the three of you alone. The seconds slowed infinitely, and though they never came to a true stop, they lasted longer than the birth, life, and death of a distant star. This, to you, was paradise. Your skin was frosty, but your heart was blooming as you skylarked and frisked with people you’d met only a short time ago, but treated like you’d known one another all your lives.

The limits of your joy seemed to shatter with each passing day, expanding more than you ever thought possible. Hell, you never so much as considered that experiencing exultation to this degree was possible in and of itself, but you basked in it all the same.

As long as it lasted, you would savor it.

The sun was beginning its descent when your trio chose to end your excursion, feeling sufficiently chilled.

“Brr,” you quivered as you made your way out, squeezing water out of your hair. “My fingers are like icicles.”

“Come on, ladybug,” Suguru offered you his hand, which you took gratefully, allowing him to guide you out of the river. “That’s enough for today, you’ll catch a cold. Let’s go get you warmed up.”

You moaned in complaint at the thought of having to walk all the way back home. You really should have considered it before deciding to take a dip. Curse your spontaneity. “I forgot, Satoru’s house is on that damn mountain.”

“We’re going to my place,” he corrected nonchalantly, as if it’d been long decided. “It’s closer, and my folks are out for the weekend.”

A hand towel was dropped on your face by Satoru, probably one Suguru brought with him when packing his backpack earlier in the day.

“Dry off, princess,” Satoru instructed you as he crouched down by Geto’s backpack, popping open a bottle of water to knock back. He tossed a second one towards the noiret, who caught it with ease.

He waited for you to finish rubbing as much water off your head as you could before he twisted the top of the bottle off and handed it to you with a pointed look. A veiled threat to drink before I make you.

Well, jokes on him, you actually did want to drink water.

You took it from him and gulped down half the fluid inside it without hesitation. By some boon, you had the self control to stop before you got sick, and returned the water with a thank-you. Suguru took it upon himself to finish the rest of it.

Satoru snatched the towel from you, replacing it with your tank top (also placed on your head). You blew him a raspberry and tugged it on, cringing at the feeling of your dry (sorta) clothing getting caught on your damp skin. Maybe you should have considered bringing a towel. You would have, if you’d known beforehand that you’d be making a stop at the river.

You hooked your fingers into the back straps of your sandals when they were handed to you, the other two following suit. The village was kept clean, so none of you were worried about stepping on anything concerning, especially since Suguru’s house was right nearby.

“Ready to go?” He asked you, and you nodded.

His palm had returned to its normal calidity, something you noticed as he helped you up the slope. The boy’s body ran like a damn furnace, even after playing in the stream for a couple hours with you. Granted, he somehow managed to keep himself dry above the knees, but regardless.

All three of you were tired out, and you were looking forward to unwinding for the evening. The two boys didn’t bicker much, some light teasing in quieter tones, and – as promised – the trip to Geto’s home was short. You were standing within the genkan of his house in no time, waiting patiently while he disappeared further in to grab a couple towels.

His house resembled the buildings around the middle of town, sitting on the side of the river your house did. There was a stretch of land behind it, but you didn’t get a chance to see much, having been ushered into the cozy abode.

Being a bit nosy, you peeked around. There was a staircase leading up that hugged the wall of a turn to your left, leaving only the bottom few steps visible to you. The hallway straight ahead was clean and minimalist, likely leading to a dining room, if you had to guess.

Each home had its own unique smell, and his smelled of spices and something faintly earthy, like fresh soil.

“Here we go,” Suguru announced his return, rounding the corner with a few towels in tow. He tossed one down at your feet above the genkan, motioning for you to step onto it. Obeying, you moved out of the pit, allowing him to layer a second towel around you before tossing the last one to Satoru.

“You can shower first,” he said to you.

You grabbed at the towel, pressing it into your hips and thighs to absorb the water that remained in your soaked bottoms. “Are you sure I can go first?”

He nodded. “You can take a bath, too, if you want.”

“Just a shower is fine, I think. I don’t want to take too long, since you two need to shower, too.”

Satoru sidled up to you, his smug ass grin coming into view as he hovered his chin over your shoulder. “Or, I could shower with you.”

Frankly, you were too drained to let that statement fluster you.

Suguru placed the tip of his index between Satoru’s brows and pushed his head away. “Leave her be, creep. Dry your legs, dude, you’re getting water everywhere.”

“You’re no fun,” the towhead pouted, but retreated anyway.

“Come on,” Geto settled his hand on your nape, guiding you inside. “Don’t be shy, the walls don’t bite.”

You snorted. “New fear unlocked.”

He snickered, shaking his head in amusement. “Relax, I won’t let any walls bite you.”

He took you around the bend, past the stairs, which opened up directly to the living room. While following a more traditional structural style, the interior was comfortably modern. A plush, gray couch was pushed against the wall, with side tables on either end. You immediately noticed that the place was littered with a bunch of plants. Some hung from the ceiling, a few were situated on floating shelves, and a potted shrub was situated near the flatscreen opposite to the couch.

You gawked around shamelessly with parted lips, intrigued by the domesticity of his home. “Your place is so nice, Suguru.”

He chuffed beside you. “Don't go making fun of me while you're my guest, now, angel.”

“I'm not!” You gasped, affronted. “I swear! I like it. Lots of plants.”

“My mom’s an avid plant parent,” he explained.

You hummed in appreciation. “It’s homely.”

He exhaled through his nose and pressed his thumb and first finger into your trapezius. “Thank you. Go shower; second door to your left down the hall. I'll lay out some clean clothes for you in a little bit.”

He pointed towards an open sliding door on the other side of the shrub, bumping you forward. You needed no further prompting, trotting off in the direction he showed.

Thankfully, you didn’t get lost on the way, his instructions easy to follow. Finding the bathroom, you went into it and closed the door. Your fingers hesitated over the lock on the knob, debating. He said he’d bring clothing, but didn’t mention where he’d put it…

You chose to leave it unlocked and hurriedly got to work shedding your drenched clothes. Placing the towel down on the sink counter, you unabashedly peeped the details of the bathroom while you dropped the pieces of your outfit onto the towel.

Just like the rest of his place, the bathroom was well taken care of, also adorned with a few plants, albeit smaller and out of the way. He wasn’t kidding when he said his mom liked plants.

The ceiling light gave off an inviting glow, subconsciously helping you relax. Naked, you fiddled around with the shower knobs until you got hot water to blast out. You squeaked in surprise, adjusted the temp to be your desired level, and hopped right in.

It felt like years of stress were dissolving right off you. His shower might not have been high-techy and super modern like the one you used back at Satoru’s, but the familiarity in its style brought you a kind of comfort you didn’t know you were missing. You melted into the rising steam, sighing deeply and simply doing nothing for a minute to unwind.

It was a good day, the chaos with Granny, Shoko, and Utahime included. You’d have to reassure those two later that Satoru and Suguru were just teasing. Well, Utahime. For Shoko, you’d probably have to convince her, and you didn’t have faith you’d succeed.

You glanced around, spotting a bottle of body wash that looked like it belonged to Suguru on an inset tile shelf. You grabbed it, hoping he wouldn’t mind you using it.

Reading over the label, you admired his choice in soap: lavender and green tea, both for scent and the benefits they provided.

You couldn’t help the giddy little burst of vim you got knowing you were about to smell like him, too.

You squeezed some onto your palm and lathered it between your hands, then started rubbing it onto your body. The day’s strain, dirt, grime, and weariness lifted with it, washing off in thin and slow waves of white streaks down your figure. You felt lighter and lighter with each pass over your chest, waist, hips, and thighs.

Tension thawed from your shoulders as you scrubbed your hands along them, muscles loosening with each bit of cleanliness you gained. It felt nice. Really nice, a calm time away to yourself to let go.

His shampoo also smelled like green tea, and you were occupied with massaging it into your hair when there was a knock on the door.

“Yeah?” You called out.

The door cracked open. “Just me,” Suguru responded. “Brought some clothes for you. I’ll leave them on the counter.”

“Oh, thank you!” What’d you do to deserve a friend like him?

There were some rustling noises as he spoke. “It’s no problem, I’m not gonna leave you hanging without something to change into. Do you mind if I take your clothes to toss in the wash?”

“That’s fine,” you permitted. “I’ll be out soon.”

“Don’t worry about it, take your time,” he said, and then the door was closed once more.

Even if he told you to, you still didn’t want to hog the shower to yourself, knowing that Satoru got just as river-bathed as you did, and he was wearing pants to boot.

You rinsed off the shampoo and followed it up with the matching conditioner, using your fingers to delicately comb out any tangles. Though they weren’t your own products, they felt amazing, making your tresses silky smooth. You would have to ask him where he got his products.

You were out as soon as you were done washing your hair. You cocooned yourself in the clean, fluffy towel he also provided, loving the texture. It was soft yet absorbent, coaxing away any droplets that clung to your curves and planes.

You wanted to steal it.

But, reluctant as you might have been, you refrained. You used it to dry your hair some, and folded it to set aside after you were sufficiently devoid of liquid. Checking the clothes Suguru provided you, you noted he gave you a pair of sweats with a drawstring, allowing you to adjust the waistline as needed. Ever the observant mother hen, you were grateful for his foresight.

You slipped on the t-shirt first, pleased by the material as it came to rest against your freshly washed skin. It was noticeably oversized, but in a sleepy-Sunday sort of way, big enough to be cute and snuggly.

The sweats were huge on you by comparison, what with his absurdly long limbs. You tugged the drawstring to your preferred tightness, then rolled up the legs until they were out of the way and you wouldn’t trip over them.

All dressed, you opened the door with your used towel in hand and walked out to find Suguru waiting for you, leaning against the wall beside the room. He smiled warmly at you and pushed himself off his support, holding out his hand to take the towel from you.

A quick sweep over your form showed he was appraising your outfit with an approving eye, pride undisguised. “That shirt looks good on you.”

You were probably imagining the hint of possessiveness in his tone.

“Ehehe,” you giggled fiendishly, channeling your inner menace as you lightly tugged at the fabric of the top. “Mine, now.”

His expression softened into a smile that had little cupid wings fluttering on your back, a smile you only ever saw him give you. “All yours, angel. You can go sit down in the living room, I’ll be right back.”

“Sure,” you nodded and followed his instructions, making your way back to the flora-infested room.

Settling down on the couch, you exhaled and closed your eyes. You heard the shower start up again before it became muffled by the door, presumably because of Satoru. You weren’t left waiting long, the five or so minutes you were alone flying by. The padding of feet signaled you to Suguru’s return, your eyes prying open halfway to peer languidly at him.

“Here,” he jutted his chin towards you. “Sit on the floor, I’ll do your hair.”

Finding no reason to object, you stood and let him take your place on the cushion before plopping yourself down between his legs. He tilted your head forward, then got to work. His touch was ever so gentle, fingers diligent in their movements as he treated your hair with a knowingness you didn’t expect him to have.

Amicable silence filled the space around you, just the shifting of clothes and the slick sound of leave-in as he spread it evenly through your tresses. It gave your mind the freedom to drift away undisturbed.

As he was carefully drying and styling your hair, you thought about how Suguru often reminded you of a cat, considering his tendency to groom you. Or a bird, like a crow or a raven, that liked to preen you.

If you were all some sort of animal hybrids, you could easily imagine him being either some sort of corvid, a vulpine, or a big cat. A black leopard, to be specific.

If Satoru was a big cat, he would be a snow leopard. You refused to take any other suggestions. The tall freak was touchy, cuddly, and so proficient in hiding himself within an environment that did not suit him that he could be breathing down your neck and you'd be none the wiser.

The more you thought about it, the more you could picture them as their respective animals. Satoru would undoubtedly sunbathe with his belly up, paws curled, tail flicking side to side happily, unafraid of showing his biggest weakness.

You compared and contrasted between your options for him. He did like to give you small, shiny things, and you'd never refuse because oooh, shiny! His hair reminded you of crow feathers when it caught the light from the sun. It bore a faint iridescence, a chrome that shifted between emerald and the time just between midnight and dawn, in the earliest hours of the morning where stars still sparkled brilliantly. You could picture him preening his feathers, plucking out the pins and fluffing the downy fuzz.

Though black leopard might have suited him better. He tended to rub his cheek against yours or the top of your head whenever you embraced. You could easily picture him loafing under the shade, licking his paw to smooth out his fur and ensure it matched the rest of his satiny complexion. He had the personality of a laid back, lazy feline that could turn from a sweet teeny baby kitten into a merciless predator in the blink of an eye.

You'd seen the way he behaved when he wanted something – the narrowing of his eyes, the set of his jaw, the concentration in his brow.

It made a tremor flit up your body, especially when he set his sights on you like that. He was capable of being a silent stalker, an expert in scaring the ever living shit out of you any chance he got, just like Satoru.

That soursop boy was surely the type to roll over and let others do things for him. Feed him, rub his belly, comb through his fur. You hadn’t seen him when he was prowling, searching for a meal to hunt down, but sometimes you got a flicker of something similar to it in his eyes. Like a passing rumination, where he considered if it was worth exhausting energy to chase down his prey.

…Could the reason you’d had yet to witness his hunt be because of his ability to camouflage? Because he didn’t want you to see?

The concept gave you chills.

You suppressed your reaction at the introspection, remembering that Suguru was behind you, gently drying your hair with tepid air and tender touches. You didn't want to embarrass yourself by giving him the impression that he was pleasuring you.

Which he undeniably was, but he didn't need to know about the prickles and tingles traveling all the way from your crown to your tailbone.

You continued your train of thought.

Satoru the Snow Leopard would spend his days grooming you endlessly, licking at your fur until it stuck out in all kinds of wild angles. After that, Suguru would mend the spiky hairs until you were glossy and sleek like him.

What did that make you in comparison to them?

Standing side by side with them, it was clear you were prey – unless you were a black-footed cat. But given your dynamic and how the two of them liked to coddle you, you doubted you'd resemble any kind of predator.

If you had to be prey, then what? A doe, or gazelle?

No, those were unfortunately too majestic, and you weren't nearly as graceful as those lovely creatures. Your habit of tripping over your own feet proved case enough.

Okay, so if you weren't either of those…you supposed you could still fit into the cervidae family. Pudu deer was a possibility.

You tried to imagine it, but sadly, you couldn't put yourself into deer hooves.

Were birds prey? Some of them had to be, like doves, right?

If you were a bird, then Suguru had to be, too. You only trusted him to primp and help you maintain your feathers. Satoru would just chomp on them.

Alright, so no-go on the birds, then. Field mouse?

No, too small. You were short, but not that short. They’d also likely accidentally swallow you whole if they tried to mend a stray whisker.

Fennec fox?

You contemplated it, then mentally shook your head. You weren't high-pitched and energetic enough to qualify for that. Satoru would beg to differ, and you’d let him, because it’d be funny. Also, they were predators, anyway.

A brief memory flashed in your mind of something Satoru said, back when you first met Suguru.

‘I don't know,’ he hummed in deliberation. ‘I prefer bunny. Or mochi.’

Bunny.

Bunny…

A rabbit with floppy ears and an upturned tail. Fuzzy and velvety, obviously small and squishy, as much as you grimaced at those choice words of his.

Flumped right between either of their front paws, or stuffed in the middle of their bodies when they curled up to nap. Or chilling on one of their backs, your little paws on their head to watch the world from an angle you could never see on your own.

Bunny fit perfectly, a glove with no rips in the stitch.

You three together would consist of a snow leopard, a black leopard, and a small rabbit that they decided to keep as a pet and not dinner. For whatever reason that could be. Fish are friends, not food.

You had no idea why you chose to start daydreaming about being animorphs. Imagining being squished by their hulking forms in the afternoon rays, or being wrapped up in their fluffy tails for warmth on autumn nights. They were fun images to entertain.

“You seem to be quite deep in thought,” Suguru's breath brushed against the shell of your ear, spooking you. You hadn't even noticed he was finished. “Care to let me in?”

“Eep!” You squeaked, rotating partially to give him the stink eye for doing the thing he and Satoru always did. No way were you going to let him in on your weird brain doing weird brain things. “It's nothing important, just fantasizing a bit. Zoned out.”

Ohp.

And there was that hungry gleam in his eye, the shimmer in his black tea hues. You hit the nail on the head with the black leopard comparison.

“Fantasizing about what?” He purred. Cat. “About me?”

Your lashes fluttered and you whipped your head back in the other direction, tucking your newly dry and enviously soft hair behind your ears. “N-No?”

Man.

You were such a bad liar.

He, merciful god that he is, elected to only tease you and not try to dive into the unreasonably bizarre pool of thoughts that swirled and whirled in your consciousness like the godsforsaken mess you were.

Nor ask about why most of them revolved around those two boys. Bless him, your hero. Satoru would have tormented you until you gave in out of desperation, just to make him shut up. Then, he'd tease you about those ideas for the rest of your days. Probably double down on the bunny related nicknames, poke right above your tailbone and make jokes about how he should make you wear a pair of bunny ears and a tail. And then make the tail option extremely not family friendly.

Heaven’s mercy spare you if you give him any more ideas beyond that. Like a skimpy outfit that barely covered your tits and had a crotch narrow enough to give you a wedgie-induced friction burn where friction burns did not belong and would not wish on your worst enemy.

Well, no, maybe you would, but that's besides the point.

You chuffed out your nose and let your head fall back against the cushion between Geto's legs. His fingers found their way back to your scalp, massaging and lightly scratching at it until you were pushing into his hands like a needy kitten.

“Comfortable?” He asked with an amused lilt in his voice, to which you chirped merrily in answer.

You really were. Limbs like jelly, squeaky clean, tired out after playing in the river with them. You felt good, truly and genuinely good.

Aversion to permanent routine or not, you’d welcome every day with open arms if they were like this. Peaceful contentment after a long stretch of sunlit hours, able to let loose and uncoil any strain in your body, it all sounded so…

Happy.

You were okay with being happy like this.

You were okay with forgetting your past and what drove you here in the first place. You didn’t mind having your eyes shift shut, lashes sweeping over the highs of your cheekbones. You were alright with one of your best friends playing idly with your hair, and you were fine with listening to him hum some melody to himself as he did so.

It was okay.

This was okay.

You were okay.

banner by cafekitsune ♥

taglist: @kimi01985

#Tether Me #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #satosugu x reader #jjk x reader #chimera writes

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iheartgirlzn · 2 months

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KISS ME BETTER

pairing: percy jackson x apollo!fem!reader

☀️ notes: AAA MY FIRST PERCY ONESHOTT (if you saw this before i edited it - no u didn’t)

percy jackson was someone who was an often visitor at camp half-bloods infirmary. it was usually because he picked a fight with clarisse la rue - the ares cabins head counsellor, or he got too reckless during capture the flag, the list could go on really.

today was one of those days.

he walked into the infirmary, his eyes scanning the room for his favourite child of apollo. spotting them, he made his way over. smiling through the pain and holding his weirdly-twisted arm, he said hello.

“hello percy, oh my-” you gasp in reply, looking up from your book and spotting the way his arm was bent. “again? come on, sit down, sit down!”

you rushed him over to one of the infirmary’s beds and muttered multiple curses under your breath. opening one of the medical cabinets, you got out a bar of ambrosia for the boy.

“eat a piece of this, it’ll fix you right up. again.” you tell him, giving him a stern look. percy laughs nervously taking the food and swallowing it.

“oops?” he grins, looking at you mischievously. he lets go of his arm and flexes it. “hey! still in one piece!”

you roll your eyes at his antics and chuckle to yourself. “i’d sure hope so. you can stay here until you’re ready to leave.”

percy watches as you begin walk away, and his smile falters slightly. “wait.” he says, making you turn around with a curious look on your face.

“uh- kiss it better?” he asks, then internally curses himself for saying something so stupid. “i mean-”

but before he could finish his sentence you’d already knelt down beside him. you held his arm with a delicate hand and kissed his elbow.

he flushes at the soft yet intimate gesture and tries to stutter out a response. “there you go, feeling better now?” you ask, grinning.

“uh huh..” he agrees, hardly hearing anything other than his own heartbeat.

“good, i’ll be over there if you need me then.” and with that you walked away from where he sat, leaving percy to his own flustered thoughts.

‘maybe i should pick fights with clarisse more often.’

#angie writes #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x gn!reader #percy jackson fandom #percy jackson #pjo #x reader #x gn! reader #rick riordan #hoo #pjo hoo toa #child of apollo #cabin 7 #fluff #pjo fluff

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goddessofwisdom-7 · 5 months

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Sacrifice [part 2]

Pairing: Luke castellan x female!reader

Description: a prequel to Sacrifice pt. 1, you held up the sky for long and Luke could see the toll it was taking so he goes ahead luring Annabeth to take your place, after all he's just trying to take care of you.

A/N: when I wrote Sacrifice, I did it in fifteen minutes nto thinking much of it. But I like the concept of it ngl. In all fairness, angst is like my thing and writing angsty toxic Luke is my fav rn.

Sacrifice pt 1:

Luke's shoulders ached, his back felt almost crooked from the weight of the sky. He felt a twinge of sympathy for Annabeth but right now she was the lesser of his concerns.

The woman at the forefront of his mind being you.

You who swung from consciousness to unconsciousness for the last three days; the strength from your body sapped out and a constant pain ripping through you. Your wrists were wrapped up in bandages to support them and the large expanse of bruises on your shoulders were being iced.

The nectar and ambrosia he was taking to you felt like a meagre offering, a minimal solution.

This whole ploy was a sheer debacle. He could've lost you.

Everything was taking too much time. Anyway, it didn't matter now.

You were out of immediate danger, he could take care of you. Just like he always swore to. He'd show you how much he cared, that you still mattered and ha had it all under control and all the doubts he knew you were beginning to have weren't necessary.

Your hair had greyed significantly, more than his had; though that was to be expected with how much more time you had spent in Atlas' position.

He sidled up to your sleeping figure, sheltered away from the eyes of titans and soldiers– protected; and reached out to caress your face, over the course of these days, he had developed a small routine now.

First, he picked up the washcloth and basin that a son of Asclepius who was in charge of handling injuries had dutifully kept. He could tend to your wounds and the other demigods, but you were still under Luke's care. Always.

Cleaning up your face first, before gently wiping down your arms, mindful of the supporting bandages and then wiping your knees, down your shins and the arch of your feet.

It felt good, being able to do something for you. After which he'd try to rouse you in a partial wakefulness as he helped you sip the divine nectar, watching the magic liquid give you some strength.

For a little while, Luke had been worried. For all your amazing traits, he believed you to be more simple-minded; in your mind, you were the first that should be sacrificed because of your dedication and devotion towards your loved ones. Now, he never thought of your loyalty to be mindless like a dog's but he always believed that it would be his.

But then after the whole Golden Fleece interaction with Percy and company, you had gotten quiet, secretive almost. Like you were deliberating helping the son of Poseidon. And he had had a sinking feeling that Kronos might order him to get rid of you, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to do that.

"Are you hiding something from me?" He'd asked one evening, quiet and sudden.

Your gaze remained unwavered as you stepped closer to him.

"No."

"You having doubts?"

"About survival?" You laughed, "I've known about the extreme likelihood of dying for a very long time." A thrilling shiver ran down his spine as you grabbed his chin.

"And still Luke, I'm here, by your side. I'm not having any doubts."

And a few days later you went and held up the sky and now he wondered if it was some unrequired act of fielty.

He brushed your grey hair back, untangling a few knots and wished your face didn't look so disturbed and in agony in sleep as it did while you were awake.

"Luke?" You mumbled.

"Yes love."

"What– how am I here?" A sudden fit of discomfort and confusion setting upon you as you forced your eyes open and tried to sit up, still half asleep but nevertheless trying to stay alert– a default demigod setting, "who's– Atlas–"

"Shh," He whispered, attempting to be soothing. Take care of you. His job. "Annabeth's got it in control."

"Anna– no!" You shoot up, weak and disoriented, "not– Luke, Luke you promised– No!"

"Shh, calm down, please," He catches your shoulder and nudges you to lie back but you remain restless and oh gods he loves you and can't lie to you but you need to remain still or you'll get hurt more.

"You promised–"

Their medic is swift in appearing with an anaesthetic type medication and they put you out succinctly, without the chance of waking for a long while.

"I know you didn't want it to go like this, my love. But I will sacrifice hundreds to keep you safe."

His heart feels heavy and he kisses your brow and cheek.

If Annabeth, Thalia or Percy or anyone is the option opposite you, he'll kill them all. You, his devoted darling, his own nectar. The repercussions always seem so inconsequential when up against you, taking care of you.

His beloved.

************

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo fandom #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo x reader

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hypnos333 · 5 months

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Healers love

Luke castellan x black goddess reader

Synopsis: You worked at the camp as a full goddess but also a youngling and you never could fall in love because of the curse of Apollo until you met a Hermes half breed

Your apollos granddaughter also Asclepius daughter, You took over your father deity, as healing, medicine and surgery. So your grandfather thought it would be good for you to work and watch the gods half breeds.

Your father, Asclepius was really uncertain of his only daughter babysitting the gods half breeds but after a lot of convincing from his father. He sent you away but not that you mind, your grandfather and dad was overbearing to you.

You were cluttered in the infirmity room all day, Chiron fixed up Cabin 305 for you because no one heard of you. Pacifically you being Asclepius child.

One day when you were healing kids who have minor injuries. That’s where a Hermes boy comes in with him limping and holding his shoulder in pain so you instantly rushed to him.

You checked him over before opening your healing purse with lots of Ambrosia.

Ambrosia is healing food something demigods consume but having to much has consequences but Mortals can never consume them.

It was risky to give this boy Ambrosia but he did look in pain so you risked it you shoved the little piece of bread in his mouth making his swallow while using your healing magic. He groans in pain as the Ambrosia reached his leg as you healed his shoulder.

You moved away to go your next patient. “T-Thank you pretty girl” The Hermes boy mumbled tiredly making you blush slightly.

“Your welcome Messenger” You sigh pulling a blanket up to him before tending to your other kids.

When he first saw you, he immediately noticed that you were gorgeous for a healer goddess maybe Aphrodite blessed you with her beauty. And the way you immediately rushed to him made him fold. He wanted you at first sight, screw the gods but not you definitely not you. You were different and is just for him.

Maybe even Aphrodite even gave her blessing into you two to fall in love.

When Luke woke up he was greeted to you listening to his heart with your stethoscope that you mostly keep around your neck in the infirmary room.

He blushed as his heartbeat went up making you glance at him and smile as you put your stethoscope back around your neck. “Oh i’m glad to see your up love” You cheerfully said writing down his condition.

“My name is ___ Killian” You said making his arch his eyebrows as he was going to say something you already beat him to it. “Yes I made the last name up” You sigh.

“What’s your name?” You asked making him remember he never told you his name.

“Uh Oh i’m Luke Castellan” he answered making you nod before writing it down on the clipboard before putting it down.

“Well Luke your all good to go, I gave you some medicine to heal faster and everything should be good, I will need you to be more careful unless you’ll be close to getting a broken shoulder or sprain leg” You said professional.

You looked at him for an Okay but all he did was stare at you in admiration and lovesick.

You’re no Aphrodite but you would know when people fall for you at this point. Everyday now he come 5 times a week and it was often.

He’ll come with scapes, scars, sicknesses or even almost sprains.

So you confront him about it.

“Luke you can’t keep hurting yourself it’s either your really clumsy or your here for something else and I see if capture the flag and your amazing so what’s up with you?” You asked him wrapping up his arm.

“You watch me play capture the flag?” He asked lighting up at you watching him win every single time.

“Stop changing the subject” You scolded making him chuckle nervously.

Over these past weeks you grown having feelings with the Hermes boys and loved his company but you also grown worried he’s hurting himself on purpose.

“This is probably the best way to tell you but I’ve been wanting to ask if you want to go on a lunch date with me?” He asked hopefully but felt a boost of energy and that where he realized you were still holding his arm but white tint came out of your hands and onto his arm making him feel more strengthen.

“___?” He asked out making you snap out of it.

You pulled him into a kiss luckily the infirmary was empty was it was just you and him.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” He asked pulling away slightly but instantly wanted to feel your lips again as his grabbed you waist pulling you closer.

“It’s definitely a yes” You breathed out as he looked at your chocolate brown eyes. He smiled before pulling you back into a kiss leading into a make out session.

He still hated gods but you…. You were definitely an exception he can never hate you. He was gonna keep you to himself. All he wants is you…..

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians

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rengokuswif3 · 1 year

Text

Blood of Zeus! Apollo x Reader

MANS IS LITERALLY POLYAMOROUS, he’s seen with Hyacinthus and Daphne together in bed (we love a poly bisexual king)

You were another mortal he had fallen in love with and was met with a cruel destiny, being killed like Hyacinthus or cursed like Daphne. He didn’t like the pattern of his lovers being given such fates, but he was happy they were with him on Mount Olympus now where he could be with them and where they were safe with him for the rest of time

Apollo is obviously very flirty and confident with the looks to back up his ego. Yet he feels humbled around the three of yours beauty, kindness and hearts. He may be a god, but the three of you had him bowing before you in admiration and pure love

While he’s out riding the sun chariot through the sky during the day, the three of you bask in his warmth and light together. Considering a flower was named after Hyacinthus and Daphne was a tree nymph, nature is a big part of your lives. Your husbands light brings life to the plants you all care for

The three of you will also go on sweet dates around the home of the gods. Splashing each other in the creeks, drying off on the pristine grass and napping in the warm sun after lunch

Nights are your favorites though. Nights are when Apollo is done with his duties as his sister takes over the night. Nights are the time you get to spend with him

When the sun begins to set, you feel all giddy inside awaiting Apollo’s return. He’s not hard to spot, as his body glows warm against the cool darkness. He rides down in his chariot and you and Daphne greet his horses while Hyacinthus greets Apollo first with a kiss. Then the god will kiss you and Daphne ‘hello’, before asking what the night holds for them

Sometimes you all plan a relaxing night for Apollo when he’s tired from his duties. You’ll sit in a warm bath together, washing his hair for him and relaxing in the hot water together. He never asks what you did that day, as he can always see from his place in the sky

While Apollo eats ambrosia and nectar, the rest of you have a spread fit for kinds prepared by his servants. The finest wines, fruits, meats and grains are presented to you. Though he doesn’t need mortal food to live, he does enjoy the taste of some fruits you feed him or the taste of wine on your lips

Apollo will often go spar with his brothers, Hermes and Ares, and be proud to see the three loves of his immortal life sitting in the stands cheering him on. He often likes to show off for you, earning teasing from Hermes and harder blows from Ares to knock him down a peg. Needless to say, you get along with Hermes as a brother in law better-

After the long day and you’re all tired, you retreat to his quarters to sleep. You sleep between Apollo and Hyacinthus, Daphne on the other side of Apollo, while Hyacinthus’ arm is wrapped around you and resting on Apollo’s chest

#blood of zeus #boz apollo #apollo x reader #blood of zeus x reader #boz apollo x reader

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thecorvidcurio-if · 7 months

Note

Heyyyy just wanted to check in and ask if you were doing okay? I truly hope you are well 😇

i am hanging in there! Im spread pretty thin right now but im doing alright all things considered.

#cursed ambrosia ask

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thecorvidcurio · 1 year

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ngl meeting thea f*cked me over

this woman gives off authenticity and calm vibes ✨

and im here for it

also love the details in sewer slide (su*cide) part 🤌

Thank you for sending this, it's made my day. I was worried how she'd be seen by readers, so I'm glad you like her so far! You'll be getting to interact with her and the others far more extensively very soon.

I'm also glad you're enjoying that extra layer to your character's arc, I'm planning to eventually give it more influence over the experience of a player who's picked that option, so I hope you'll enjoy that expanded content as well when it comes around :)

#asks #cursed ambrosia ask

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persevereforahappyending · 1 month

Text

Maybe in Another Life |9|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Slight Titans Curse Spoilers

Word Count: 2.7k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11 | ch. 12 | ch. 13

You and your sisters packed up camp, it had been about a week, and you had travelled all the way back to New York. You talked to Clarisse the night before she left on her scouting mission but hadn’t heard a word from her since. You and the Hunters got information about Luke or one of his lackeys in the area and made your way back to the city but came up with nothing, no trace of Luke, demigods, or monsters in general.

“You’re not coming with us,” Thalia said, as you finished packing up your bag.

“What?” You asked, furrowing your brow.

“We’re close to the city.” You followed her gaze; from the spot you made camp you could see the New York skyline. “We might as well do a supply run.”

You sighed but nodded, it made a sense, for all you knew you’d end up out in the middle of nowhere next. “Where should I meet you?”

Thalia gave you the area they’d most likely be making camp next. It would take you a couple hours to get the supplies you’d need but you shouldn’t have a problem catching up to them by the time they were all settling down for bed. If they made it further or if anything changed their plans in any way Thalia would send a message letting you know. With that you were off, making your way to the city.

It wasn’t a long trek to the city and luckily you blended in, the mist made your pack look like a normal backpack, which many of the commuters were carrying. You had been to the city many times, but you never got over all the lights and amount of people, you only ever came for errands, otherwise you spent most of your time on the outskirts of cities, away from civilization.

You entered a shop that stood out against all the skyscrapers and neon signs. To anyone who couldn’t see through the mist it looked like a normal antique shop but to a demigod or anyone else of your world, you knew what it really was. You approached the counter, smiling at the nymph behind the register.

“How can I help you?” The nymph asked, without looking up from the magazine. You sighed before dropping down a sack of gold drachmas. The nymph glanced at the sack before setting down her magazine and straightening her back. “Ooh a Hunter,” she smiled. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Nectar and ambrosia,” you said, smiling.

“Coming right up.”

You waited as the nymph disappeared into the back to gather what you asked for. Nectar and ambrosia were a rare commodity, but there were a few shops a wandering demigod could get it from if they knew where to look. You had been to this shop in particular many times, almost every trip to the city. You weren’t sure how they got what they did but given they were located in the city that had the door to Olympus you were sure they had connections of some sort. They never failed to have what you needed, whether it be celestial bronze weapons, nectar, ambrosia, or other various potions and items from your world.

You glanced out the window during your waiting, furrowing your brow when you saw a familiar head of hair walking down the street. You got closer, squinting through the window and across the street as best as you could, a small smirk appearing on your face when you confirmed what you thought you saw, Clarisse. She was on a secret mission no one was allowed to know about, you were gathering supplies and needed to get back to your sisters, but there was no reason you couldn’t pop over and say hi. You watched as she turned down an ally next to the hotel across the street.

“Here you are sweetly,” the nymph said, placing a lovely little box of ambrosia and a jar of nectar down on the counter.

You turned your attention back to the nymph, opening the box to look at the ambrosia. The ambrosia was cut into little squares, perfectly placed, and stacked in the box, not leaving an inch of empty space. “Thank you,” you said, offering the nymph a kind smile. You carefully slipped the items into your pack and made your way out the door.

You glanced both ways before darting across the street. You peered down the alley way you saw Clarisse disappear down, seeing her still in the alley, pacing back and forth and staring at a wall. You smirked as you slipped into the alley as well, silently laughing as you watched her feel around the brick wall as if she were looking for something.

“So, this is your super-secret mission,” you said when you were right behind her.

Clarisse whipped around, pointing her spear at your neck. You leaned your head back, looking down at the spear before raising an eyebrow at her. Clarisse sighed, then dropped the spear back at her side. “What are you doing here?” She asked.

“Wow, here I thought you’d be happy to see me,” you fake pouted. She only glared at you. “I was resupplying,” you sighed. “We were back over this way because we got word Luke was around but no sign of him anywhere.” Clarisse’s eyes widened at the mention of Luke. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Do you know something?” You tilted your head, crossing your arms. “Is that what your mission had to do with?”

“The less people that know the better,” she whispered. “We don’t know who to trust.”

“You don’t trust me?” You looked at her like a kicked puppy. You understood logically that they needed to be careful about who they shared information with, but you couldn’t ignore the pang you felt in your chest at the implication of Clarisse not trusting you.

“I do,” she sighed, running a hand down her face. “I can’t believe I’m doing this she mumbled.” You furrowed your brow but before you could question her, she stepped forward. “I’m looking for an entrance to the labyrinth,” she whispered in your ear.

Your eyes widened. “Are you insane?” You stepped back.

“Annabeth says there’s multiple entrances all over the world. She thinks one might be in Camp Half-Blood.”

“Why?” The labyrinth stretched all across the country, if you went in one door there was no guarantee what door you’d come out of, if you came out at all. It made perfect sense for an entrance to be at the camp though.

“We think Luke is trying to use the labyrinth to get around.” You sucked in a breath, which could explain why he disappeared so quickly in some places and now he left no trace. “We think he’s trying to learn how to navigate it so he can sneak into camp.”

You nodded; you were liking Clarisse’s secret mission even less now. If Clarisse happened to find an entrance and entered the labyrinth, there was not telling if or when she’d make it back out. You hadn’t ever been in it, you only heard the stories over the centuries, none of them ended well, people went mad, people ended up lost, or dead. The labyrinth constantly changed and shifted, redirecting you to your demise, time was rumored to move differently down there, five minutes could be five hours or even days on the outside. There were endless passageways and rooms, the majority of them led from one horror to another.

“You think ones here?” You asked, looking up at the side of the hotel, Clarisse had been poking around.

She shrugged. “Don’t know,” she sighed. “Based on Annabeth’s research one is supposed to be in the city, it’s heavily implied to be in a hotel. It just didn’t mention which hotel or where.”

“Did you check inside?” You already started walking around to the front of the hotel.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She ran after you.

“Helping.”

“I don’t need your help.” She continued to follow you through the fancy doors of the hotel. “This is my mission. I’m supposed to do it alone.”

“I’m not here to look over your shoulder,” you sighed, turning around to face her. “Or takeover your mission. I’m just…” you shrugged. “Here, and have some time before I have to head back. If you don’t want me around, I can leave.”

Clarisse looked down at the floor clearly having a serious debate with herself before she looked back up at you. “No,” she mumbled. “If this is the only way to spend time with you, I’m not passing it up.”

You smirked at her. Your smirk quickly turned into a frown when you noticed the concierge looking at you questioningly. “We have to go,” you grabbed Clarisse by the arm and quickly dragged her towards the elevators.

You pressed the button and quickly pulled her into the elevator when it arrived. You were grateful that no one else was in it or had been waiting. The doors closed right as the concierge approached, his mouth opening to question you.

“I know you’ve probably never been to a place like this,” Clarisse took a jab at you. You glared at her but didn’t deny it, it was true you had never been in a hotel before, you just knew of them from all your trips to the city. “But we need a key to use this.”

You look at the various buttons on the side panel, there were over fifteen floors in this building. “Not if we go down,” you said, pressing the button that said ground and had a little ‘associates only’ sticker next to it.

“Why are we going down?”

“Well, the labyrinth is an underground maze.” When the elevator doors opened you peeked your head out making sure the way was clear, then motioned for Clarisse to follow. “So, it makes sense that the entrance would be underground.”

You slowly made your way through the hallway, the two of you pressing yourself up against the wall when you heard someone pushing a cart of some sort. When it sounded like the cart was getting further away you peeked around the corner to see a maid pushing a basket of dirty towels in the opposite direction.

“And how would we know which way to go?” Clarisse asked as the two of you continued to move through the halls.

“The camp is protected, a boundary that doesn’t allow monsters to pass through,” you whispered. “The labyrinth was designed by a god; it radiates magic which monsters can’t help but navigate to.”

“We’re wandering around, hoping to spot a monster, to help point us in the direction of the door?” She raised an eyebrow. You shrugged, giving her a nod, you would admit it wasn’t the best plan in the world. “That’s a terrible plan!” She whisper shouted as if she could read your mind.

You started to roll your eyes as you rounded the corner only to stop dead in your tracks, making Clarisse bump into you. “What’s wrong with you?” she snapped, flicking you a glare. You pointed ahead, she turned to see the maid from earlier was standing in the middle of the hallway, staring daggers at the two of you.

“Sorry,” Clarisse said, forcing a smile. “We got lost, we were looking for the pool?”

The maid continued to stare at the two of you. You slid your foot back, bumping into Clarisse again. “Something isn’t right,” you mumbled, narrowing your eyes at the maid.

The next thing you knew the maids neck snapped to the side, then her legs twisted in an inhuman direction, her arms following soon after. You pushed Clarisse back, trying to get her to move. Your eyes widened as the skin began to melt away, steam rolling off the monster as the creature shed its disguise.

“Run!” You shouted. You pushed Clarisse back down the hall, grabbing the nearest cart and pushing it into the path of the monster.

“We can take that thing!” Clarisse shouted, trying to look back and face the monster.

“Not if that stinger hits us!” You glanced back seeing the monster looked like a giant scorpion, its stinger a glowing golden yellow as it was filled with venom. You might have had ambrosia and nectar on you, but it wouldn’t help for a wound from the stinger.

The scorpion quickly crawled over the cart you had shoved in its way. It was close enough that when it stabbed its stinger you had to duck, watching as the stinger got stuck in the wall, causing cracks throughout the concrete. It let out a high pitch squeal in anger as it ripped its stinger out of the wall, along with a few chunks of concrete.

You spun around, quickly whipping out your bow, and shooting an arrow into the monster’s eye. The creature squeezed again, then raised its pincer and snapped the arrow in half, leaving the tip still in its eye. It brought down its stinger towards you, causing you to jump back before you could get another arrow off. With its stinger impaled in the ground now you pushed Clarisse to continue forward.

After running for another moment down the hall you glanced back, seeing the scorpion nowhere in sight. You didn’t have to consider where it could have gone before taking the next turn down another hall. You and Clarisse took the turn at full speed, turning right into the scorpion.

You ducked just as it swung its pincer at you. You saw Clarisse holding up her spear, using it to keep the other pincer from getting her. You drew your bow again, your fingers brushing against your arrows before finding the one you wanted. You quickly notched the arrow and fired. It opened midair, releasing a net that latched around the stinger.

While it released Clarisse’s spear to cut itself free the two of you took off down the hall you had just come from. The two of you continued running, taking turn after turn, all the similar looking hallways starting to blur together. You had just made another turn, once again running into the scorpion. This time as it shot its stinger at you, Clarisse gripped your arm and pulled you into the nearest room. The two of you fell back into the storage closet, the door slamming behind your right as the stinger was impaled into the wood instead of your chest.

You held your breath as you stared at the crack in the door, waiting for the scorpion to mark its next move. When nothing came and you realized it was completely silent outside the door you finally released a shaky breath. You pushed yourself off the ground, holding out your hand to help Clarisse up. You kept your eye on the door, not trusting that the monster was truly gone.

“Where the hell are we?” Clarisse asked.

You turned around, your brow furrowed but your eyes quickly widened at the sight. “What the…” you started, unable to finish your sentence. You weren’t in a storage closet at all, or any room for that matter, you were in a dimly lit hallway. The hallway was all dirt and stone, a couple torches lining the walls were the only thing lighting the tunnel. You narrowed your eyes when you realized it wasn’t just normal fire on the torches but Greek fire.

“Oh gods,” you whispered before turning back around. You ran your hands up and down where the door had been, searching for a handle of some sort but only feeling the cold stone the rest of the hallway was made out of.

“What?” Clarisse asked. “What’s wrong?” She searched your concerned face.

You turned to her, your eyes wide and face pale. “We found the labyrinth.”

Clarisse’s face fell at your words, her eyes widening as she quickly spun around again. You watched the color drain from her face as she realized the situation the two of you were in. You sighed, you and Clarisse were in the labyrinth and the door you entered through had disappeared meaning the only way out was forward through the maze that was always changing, filled with monsters and traps that wanted to kill you at every turn. At least the two of you had each other, you couldn’t imagine having to navigate the maze on your own.

Taglist: @cxcilla @touchmyfracturedomens @luclue @manu-007s-world @death-in-love @nenas19 @mynameiskaci @danonered

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse x reader #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #maybe in another life

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aziraphales-library · 9 months

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hello mods!! ive just read a fic called ''curve of old bones'' and ''snow angel'' i believe it was called and was wondering what fic you can recommend me to read that follows the themes of fake dating/ enemies to friends to lover/ pining whilst fucking sorta thing???

Hey, we have tags for everything you're asking for! #fake/pretend relationship, #enemies to lovers, #enemies to friends to lovers, #pining while fucking. As pining while fucking only has two posts, here are some more to add...

Curses foiled again by hapax (E)

To be blunt: in order to return to tip-top condition, Aziraphale was going to have to get laid. And the angel had spent almost six thousand years of his existence among humans assiduously avoiding anything of the sort. Aziraphale turns to his hereditary enemy for assistance with a particularly pesky curse. After all, it’s not like a demon has any feelings that might be involved.

Ambrosia by pilatesandpinot (E)

Those damn aphrodisiacs. They chatted as they soaked in the water, Crowley ate from a platter of fruit, hoping the sugar from them would somehow cure his sudden lightheadedness, as the blood in his head was probably pumping down to his groin, and get rid of the heated feeling in his abdomen, while Aziraphale lathered her arms and shoulders with oil. When she moved down to her breasts and tummy, she leaned back a bit, slowly and carefully cupping herself and making a small little hum sound as she rubbed her belly. Crowley had to bite his bottom lip to keep himself from groaning, watching the glisten of the angel’s skin, the warm glow she seemed to be emitting, her lush and curvy body sitting comfortably in the water. He was indeed fucked. ------------------------------ Aziraphale and Crowley have oysters at Petronius's, and soon learn while visiting the bath house afterwards why oysters are one of Aphrodite's favorite foods.

May My Teaching Drop as the Rain by Dee_Morris (E)

Several people on Twitter have commented that there isn't enough Ineffable Tutors content out there, and I have to agree. The book doesn't go into very much detail about what Cortese and Harrison get up to in the years they spend educating young Warlock, and as a fic writer there's nothing as much fun as a blank space to play in. I expect that the stories in this series will more or less stand alone, but I'll add notes and recaps where I think it's necessary. These will mostly be light-hearted horny adventures with little to no angst. Tags may change or be added as I write more stories.

Out There by snae_b (E)

Small town paper, small town news, and Aziraphale always gets stuck with the shit stories. Strange lights in the desert? Aziraphale might as well be writing about el Chupacabra. Again. At least his source is cute, even if he is a little out there.

The Arrangement by TawnyOwl95 (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley are set up on a blind date as a joke by their respective housemates. They decide to get their own back and call everybody's bluff by *gasp* fake dating!

Craving by DawnOfTomorrow (E)

“You want me to pay for it.” He drawled, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t put words in my mouth.” His assistant said, entirely unimpressed by the fact that he could fire her. “You said-” “I said that it would probably be a good idea for you to get some, and if you can’t be bothered to do it the normal way, that there are professional options. And then I said that if you’d like, I could recommend someone.” --- He called the fucking number. He didn’t know why – okay, he did, he was an idiot, tipsy, lonely, and horny – but he called the damn number. --- Even just looking at the blonde’s profile, he felt a twinge in his gut. Blonde curls indeed – over features that revealed the other man’s age, light eyes, and a cute, upturned nose. Slim lips, currently curved in a smile for the bartender. Crowley studied the rest of him too – a bit of chub, not enough to be fat, but definitely dad-bod territory. He sighed softly, wondering what sort of witch Anathema was, because she had been spot on about this guy being his type. He didn’t even need to see the large hands or plush thighs to make up his mind – this… this could work.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #adult omens #pining while fucking #human au #mod d

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bluehwale · 1 year

Note

Ok sooo, you said that I could send my request and I couldn't wait any longer. The first fic is when they confessed for reader, but I'll love to know how they met reader and how they became that tight friend, a prequel if you will. That was it, thanks dear!

"the rainbow thief": the beginning | demigods! poly ateez au

01 / ‘the rainbow thief’ masterpost / next

summary. you never expected to be in a camp meant for demigods but, here you are. you also didn't expect on becoming friends with a brooding emo boy who introduces you to five of his friends, nor do you expect to meet two bickering best friends but, here you are. or alternatively, you meet eight boys that makes your life much more bearable.

pairing(s). ot8 demigods! ateez x daughter of iris! reader (son of hades! hongjoong, son of athena! hwa, son of apollo! yunho, son of poseidon! yeosang, son of zeus! san, son of aphrodite! mingi, son of dionysus! wooyoung & son of ares! jongho)

word count. 2.7k

genre. crack, flustered joong, fluff!, san being clumsy (again)

warnings. cursing, mentions of anxiety, alcohol intake (wooyoung and his wine), impulsive writing so it's not the best, camp half blood universe inaccuracies help

note. thankyou for the req and im so sorry i posted it so late!! i totally forgot abt tumblr bc i was having too much fun on my spring break im sorry T_T but it's here now!!! i also won't be accepting any more requests for demigods! atz </3

Hongjoong feels sick.

“I think you’re fine.” Yunho frowns, pressing his palm against Hongjooong’s forehead one last time just to make sure. The healer did everything he could, even resorting to human hospital’s protocol check-ups when his hyung refused the usual nectar and ambrosia because he insists that, “something’s really wrong with me, Yunho, and I don’t think those can fix it.”

The healer can only groan inwardly at his friend’s stubbornness because there’s nothing a little nectar, ambrosia, and his glowing fingertips can’t fix. But of course, he continues to entertain him as he’s not in the mood to test the patience of a son of Hades today.

“What are your symptoms again?” Yunho asks flatly, inflating the cuff wrapped around Hongjoong’s upper arm to gauge his blood pressure again (in truth, he doesn’t know how to read a blood pressure monitor but does it anyway for Hongjoong’s sake) to appease his “patient” who is currently sitting on a cot because he feels “sick.”

“I had this really weird feeling in my stomach, like, it feels like my organs are squashed around and everything inside me turned upside down,” Yunho frowns. Okay, that sounds pretty serious. “And my face got all hot, my feet couldn’t stop twitching, and I stuttered too!” Hongjoong continues, bringing a hand to his head in worry. “This doesn’t feel like me at all.”

“Hyung, was there anything that made you feel anxious?” eyebrows furrowed in concern, Yunho regards Hongjoong carefully. “If there’s anything troubling your mind lately, I’m here to listen.”

“No, I don’t think it’s anything like that—”

An unfamiliar figure suddenly pops inside the curtain circling the cot, momentarily surprising Yunho and leaving Hongjoong stunned once he recognizes the person in front of him.

“Sorry, hi,” you grimace, feeling apologetic towards the tall boy you scared with your uninvited presence. You just got here, alone and wary, with a few scratches here and there from being chased by monsters, so you hope the cute boy with soft looking hair in front of you is the person you’re looking for and that your day won’t be even more ruined by an embarrassing moment of you mistaking him for another person. “I was told to find a Yunho here? They said he could give me something to help with my injuries.”

Forgetting entirely about his hyung’s complaints, Yunho rapidly deflates the cuff still circling Hongjoong’s arm and rips it off in a rushed manner, earning a loud yelp from the poor raven haired boy still sitting on the cot (he did not end up checking the numbers on the monitor).

Hongjoong feels his heartbeat quicken when your gaze lands on him once you stand on your tippy toes to look over Yunho’s shoulder in curiosity. A smile threatens to creep up on his own face when he notices your eyes brighten and a sweet smile curling up your lips. “Oh, Hongjoong! Hi!”

“_____. Good to see you again.”

Yunho flicks his eyes back and forth between you and Hongjoong, mischievously grinning at the interaction you’re both having because it takes awhile for Hongjoong to warm up to people and it seems like you’re new, so to think that Hongjoong has warmed up to you that quick, you must be quite the character. Or maybe, the emotionally stunted son of Hades has finally taken an interest in someone.

Yunho leans towards the latter. And he can’t wait to tell the others about this so they can all tease him about it.

“Oh,” you take note of him sitting on a cot and remind yourself that you’re in the infirmary, causing your eyes to rake over Hongjoong in worry. “Are you okay? You’re hurt?”

“No! I’m perfectly fine!” The raven haired boy who was previously complaining about his “weakened knees” suddenly sprang up from the bed, seemingly energized, and pushes a gawking Yunho over your direction with a tight grip on the back of his shoulders. “You should let Yunho check up on you then get some rest. Hope you feel better soon.”

You smile in thanks at the boy you met a few hours prior, the first person who greeted you when you stepped foot on camp, and bid him a goodbye as he turns to leave the infirmary to let Yunho tend to you alone.

Before he could, however, you nonchalantly tell him, “I like those glasses on you. Looks cute.”

A pause, and then, there it is.

Hongjoong’s cheeks slowly flame a bright pink, the soles of his sneakers nervously squeaking against the hardwood floors as he turns his head to face you with his eyes flicking to every corner of the room and anywhere that does not land on your figure. An intangible noise escapes his throat. “T-thanks.”

Oh. Yunho slaps a hand over his mouth as he tries his damn best to stifle in the laughter to save face of Hongjoong’s dignity.

Hongjoong’s not sick.

For the first time ever, Hongjoong is flustered.

‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ‍ ✺◟( • ω • )◞✺

“That’s _____? Hongjoong’s _____?”

Hongjoong smacks the back of the two-tone haired boy’s head as he hisses, “If you don’t lower your fucking voice.”

Wooyoung’s yowl of pain is followed with a death glare shot at his hyung, the slightly tipsy boy hugging his ‘I LOVE DIONYSUS’ mug close to his chest to avoid any unnecessary spillage of perfectly good wine. “What was that for?” he cries. “They won’t even be able to hear me,” he grumbles, pointing to the group of Iris kids noisily huddled together in celebration of winning a game of Capture the Flag against the Athena kids. An impressive rarity. Athena kids are known to be very strategic with their battle plans, even in mere simulations like the game they play every Friday, which is why the Iris kids are especially happy.

Yunho tsks at the slurring of his friend’s speech, forcefully wrangling the mug of wine away from the alcohol fiend. Or at least, he attempts to, for the son of Dionysus quickly snatches the mug to avoid his prying fingers, an expression of mocking retaliation sent his way.

“She’s so cool,” Mingi dreamily sighs, having hearts as eyes as he continues to look at you in awe. You’re in the center of the Iris kids circle, a wide smile plastered on your lips as everyone else rejoices on your team’s victory. You meet eyes with both Hongjoong and Yunho (who is still busy trying to keep his feral friend at bay), sending an excited wave their way in greeting which earns back a proud thumbs up from Yunho and a genuinely heartwarming smile from Hongjoong.

“You have to introduce me to her!” Mingi gasps eagerly, hopping around Hongjoong while flailing his arms in glee, unknowingly landing hits on the silently seething raven haired boy who pointedly glares at him in return.

“You can do it yourself.”

“Someone’s doing it right now,” Jongho points out, the rest of the boys turning their heads to see their own Seonghwa hyung, the head counselor of the Athena cabin, make his way towards you and shake your hand with a gentle smile. It seems that he’s congratulating you for your win and Jongho chortles at the obvious twinkle in the eldest’ eyes. He’s trying to make a move on you.

And he can see why Seonghwa, alongside Hongjoong and Yunho, has taken an interest in you.

Because although your fellow siblings are urgently trying to sweep you into the dining pavilion for a celebratory dinner, you still take the time to meet the three new faces that are close friends with Hongjoong. Amidst the conversation between the rest of the boys and you, Jongho gets why it’s so easy for Hongjoong and Yunho to be close to you in the span of a week. Your contradictingly soft but bubbly personality seems to shine out of you, easily melting the coldest hearts (cough, Hongjoong hyung, cough), and the way you always seem to have an easy smile on your face softens just about anyone.

It’s easy to like you.

“Who are they?” you question your siblings once you’ve sat in the Iris table in the dining pavilion, distractedly biting onto your chopsticks as you try to be discreet in sneaking a look at the two lone boys sitting separately in the Zeus table and the Poseidon table. Both tables that, apparently, have been unoccupied for years.

A new kid of the big three; Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades, always garner attention because they’re so rare in quantity. Especially now that there’s two of them, one of your siblings, Yuna, excitedly jumps to inform you. “We don’t know their names yet but I heard they came in while we were just starting the game. Probably why we didn’t hear anything about them until now,” she shrugs, shoving another piece of gimbap into her mouth. “But the other campers said they got claimed immediately after coming here! That’s usually unheard of from the big three.”

Your brother, Keeho, who took the displeasing choice of sitting beside Yuna grimaces in disgust as he force shut her open chewing mouth. “Don’t talk while you’re chewing.”

You take another look at the two boys sitting silently with their heads slightly lowered, taking note of the unhealed scratches and bruises blooming all over their skin. You gasp, turning back to Keeho to ask, “What happened to them?”

“Heard they were hunted by a minotaur which is why they’re both forced to come here. All of the Apollo kids were stationed at our game earlier in case anything happens, probably why they haven’t had the chance to be healed.”

You shovel the rest of your food down your throat, almost choking in the process which earned a few panicked concerns from your siblings, but you ignore them and quickly move to the closest table, the Zeus table, after chugging down water from your goblet.

“Hi! I’m ______. It’s nice to meet you.”

The blonde looks up in surprise to see you and you use the short pause to take a good look at his face. Soft slanted eyes that oddly remind you of a cat’s greet you alongside a shy smile that spreads across his face and pops out both of his dimples.

Oh, you think. You didn’t expect him to be so handsome. You’re screwed.

“_____,” he repeats your name, pleasantly basking in the friendly smile you give him. You slightly waver at the way he says your name so sweetly. “I’m San. It’s nice to meet you too.”

“How are you liking it here?” you ask, trying to start a conversation in hopes of easing his first-day jitters. “I’m also still pretty new here. Just got here last week, actually.”

You can see the tension seep out his shoulders after hearing that you’re one of the newer campers as he gladly sighs in relief. “I’m pretty nervous, I don’t really know what’s going on,” he lets out an emotionless chuckle. “I just found out that my dad isn’t my actual dad and that Zeus? The dude up in the sky? Is apparently my real dad.”

“Yeah,” you grimace, you still haven’t fully grasped that either. “It took awhile for me to get kinda used to things here but I also somehow feel that I belong here,” you look at him, hoping your effort of comforting him is working. “I think you’ll fit in here soon enough. It’s okay to take things slow.”

This time, San genuinely smiles. “Thanks _____.”

“By the way,” he adds in a whisper, tugging your wrist to bring you closer to him, inadvertently causing your cheeks to warm. “I don’t know much about my… dad or Greek Mythology in that matter, but isn’t he like a major dickhead—”

A thunderous clap of lightning pierces through the suddenly darkened sky, striking a tree that stood closest to the dining pavilion, erupting it in booming flames. Surprised screams break out throughout the dining campers, everyone quickly turning their heads to look at San; the most probable culprit of angering the God of the Sky that one of their trees is now on fire.

“Oh, oops,” the guilty boy winces. “Sorry.”

“San, was that you?” a voice came from behind you, requiring you to turn around to see who it is and oh– it’s the boy who was sitting at the Poseidon table; the other new camper. The raven haired boy looks at you, taking in the horrified look on your face as you resume watching the tree burn after attempting to nod at him in greeting. “Man, what’d you do this time?”

“I didn’t do anything,” the blonde boy Yeosang unfortunately calls his best friend, whines. “It’s just… maybe I said some words I shouldn’t have or whatever. Anyways, can’t you fix that? Shouldn’t you have, like, water powers or something?”

“We literally just got here, idiot,” Yeosang rolls his eyes, though he thinks it’d be pretty cool if he does end up having powers. He turns to your direction, taking the chance to talk to you now that he sees you’ve snapped out of your daze. “I’m sorry about him, he must’ve given you a hard time.”

San lets out an offended “hey!”

“No he didn’t,” you giggle. “It’s just,” you point at the still burning tree and a few campers circling it with buckets of water in hopes of putting out the fire. “It’s not everyday that you see stuff like this.”

Yeosang turns around, whistling lowly once he actually takes in the damage his best friend (his best friend’s dad, actually) has done. “Yeah, that looks pretty bad,” he says.

“Eh,” you shrug. “The Demeter kids are probably upset about it but it’s nothing they can’t fix.”

Your eyes widen, you totally forgot why you wanted to approach them in the first place. “Speaking of fixing,” you usher San out of his table and exchange proper introductions with the raven haired boy named Yeosang before dragging them by the wrists to the Apollo table. “You should really get those wounds healed. The Apollo kids here are the healers, they’ll know what to do.”

A tall boy, who Yeosang presumes to be Yunho based on your calls of his name, smoothly steps out of the table with his siblings and introduces himself to both of them. You told the healer about what you heard, that they were both hunted on the way here; hence the bruises from struggles of their escape. His eyes take in the exhausted figures of the two boys and he tells them that they should follow him to the infirmary to heal and rest up.

“Hey! Wait up!”

A boy with two-toned hair surprisingly holding a can of Diet Coke instead of his regular mug, skips to the group of four, tagging along the remaining of the boys behind him. Already exchanging greetings and introductions, the two new boys are slightly surprised at how friendly they all are but they absolutely do not mind at all, despite how they feel like their bones would crumble in exhaustion at any moment.

As the nine of them move together towards the infirmary, Wooyoung keeps bugging Yeosang with stupid questions that makes San laugh. (“Can you turn water into wine?” “If I could, wouldn’t that be blasphemy? And shouldn’t you be the one who turns things to wine?”). He’s never met anyone like them and they’re a bit odd but he thinks that he likes that.

He looks at you walking side by side with Yunho, an imposing Mingi trying to squeeze in the very small space left between you and the healer who is now glaring at his tall friend. Jongho watches from the sides, enjoying the suffering his hyung is going through and letting out amused snickers now and then. Seonghwa and Hongjoong look like they’re fighting over something, arms messily flailing against one anothers’, with Seonghwa letting out occasional squeals. San can’t tell if they’re play fighting or serious.

The blonde smiles, shoving his hands down his pockets. Staying at camp doesn’t sound all too bad now.

“I think you’ll fit in here soon enough.”

He thinks so too.

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