#kids bunk bed with stairs

[giftiaa]

Basement Philadelphia Basement - large transitional look-out vinyl floor basement idea with blue walls

[garfi774]

Kids Room in Boston Example of a mid-sized beach style gender-neutral light wood floor and beige floor kids' room design with gray walls

[ripriprippers]

Kids Room Bedroom in Orlando

Inspiration for a mid-sized eclectic gender-neutral carpeted and beige floor kids' room remodel with blue walls

[mqslow]

Kids Room Bedroom Children's bedroom: idea for a medium-sized coastal room with beige walls and a light wood floor that is gender-neutral.

[yatamisakis]

Salt Lake City Kids Room Playroom Large, modern children's room with a beige floor and gender-neutral carpeting White walls in a children's room

[rendezvousordie]

Basement (Philadelphia)

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Welcome Home, Rooster Bradshaw.

summary: It's been a long six months away from home for Bradley, and you're going to give him the welcome you both deserve.

a/n: ignore that this gif is from the offer, ok? It fits the vibe.

pairing: bradley bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: masturbation (m), facesitting, p in v, creampie, dirty talk, bradley's a vocal lover, praise kink.

word count: 3k

taglist: @nouis-bum @floydsmuse @mamachasesmayhem @avengersfan25 @jessicab1991 @atarmychick007 @b-bradshaw @djs8891 @fall-winter-heart97 @primroseluna @silversprings-mp3 @drxgxnslxyer @gardenavenue

Two more days.

Two more days until Bradley could see your face in person again. Two more days until he could be home and in his own space. 

Bradley let out a heavy, tired sigh, reaching his hand under his pillow. He pulled out the picture of you that he’d brought with him on deployment, tracing over your image with his fingers gently. The picture’s edges were becoming curled, worn from being tucked into flight helmets and under pillows, clutched in sweating, sometimes shaking palms, lips pressed to it in a tender kiss on occasion. He admired the photo, he’d taken it on a date you went on before he left. 

His dad’s well-loved Polaroid camera, left to him as a kid, in hand, he’d taken you to Mission Beach for the day, wanting to have the full tourist experience with you before he got shipped to the middle of the Pacific again. He found a store in Coronado that sold film for vintage cameras, building up a small stockpile for himself. He’d given you a full photoshoot that day — pictures snapped at every opportunity. Watching planes fly over head, playing games in the arcade, rides on the wooden rollercoaster, rock climbing, lunch dates, mini golf, and rock climbing. He’d snapped a couple of you in your sundress, smiling sweetly at him for the camera, your hair flowing in the warm Pacific breeze. 

This photo, however, was the one of you laughing on the beach, your baby blue two-piece swimsuit on, the high-waisted bottoms hugging your curves, the coordinating blue top cupping your breasts in a way that pushed them upever so slightly. He could practically hear your laugh whenever he looked at it, and it made his heartache that little bit more each time. 

“Fuck," he muttered to himself, sighing again as he looked around the bunk. 

Jake was on deck for the night, leaving Bradley with the shared space all to himself for at least a couple of hours. He laid back on his bed, tugging his grey sweatpants down off his hips. He spat into his free hand, using it to stroke his cock in a slow, steady pace, your photograph in his other hand, eyes fixed on your figure as he masturbated. 

Fuck, he missed you. 

He shut his eyes, picturing you as he continued to stroke himself, seeing the facial expression you made whenever you rode him, eyes shut with ecstasy, tits bouncing up and down, hips moving, hands pressed to his chest. The mental image alone was almost enough to drive him over the brink. He let out a deep grunt as he finished, your name escaping him in a soft moan. 

Two days couldn’t come soon enough. 

When he finally got home, Bradley was exhausted. The time difference had caused him more jet lag than it usually did, not that he was sleeping well without you to begin with. He never did. He’d landed earlier than anticipated, coming home a day before he was expected. He unlaced his standard issue boots, kicking them off at the door before heading directly to the laundry room. Stripping clean from his uniform, he tossed it into the washing machine, desperate for a shower and fresh, comfortable clothes.

With a dry towel wrapped around his waist, he bounded up the wooden stairs to the main bathroom. He dropped the towel as he turned the shower on, sighing happily as he stepped into the warm water, letting it wash over him for a minute, enjoying one of the first comforts of being home for the first time in six months. 

Stepping out of the tower, he quickly dried himself off and wrapped his towel back around his waist before heading down the hall to the bedroom. Everything was neatly pulled together — freshly laundered sheets on the bed that still smelled like your favourite detergent, his clothes neatly put away for him, fresh flowers sat in a vase on your nightstand, and a new book sat on his, with a note card placed on top. 

B, I saw this the other day at that cute little bookstore on Orange Ave. It made me think of you. I thought you’d like to read it now that you’ll have a little down time. - Love, your girl. Xo

Bradley felt his heart swell as he read your neatly printed note. He picked the book up, scanning the cover with a soft smile before setting it back down. A true crime book about a case in a podcast he’d mentioned in one of his emails home — it was perfect. God, you were perfect.

He tugged a clean white t-shirt over his head before reaching into his dresser for clean boxer briefs and a pair of well-loved denim shorts that were beginning to fray around the cuffs from being worn so frequently. Bradley looked out the bedroom window at the landscape, happy to finally be home. He’d missed all the little things while he was gone — the palm trees, the smell of those little laundry scent beads you swore by, your coordinating body wash, shampoo and conditioner that you insisted on buying for him when you’d learned he’d been coasting through life for 37 years with a 3-in-1 bottle — almost as much as he’d missed you. 

Downstairs in the kitchen, he got to work crafting himself the sandwich to top all sandwiches. He was starving, and after months of bland, unexciting meals on board an aircraft carrier, all he wanted was comfort food. With his turkey club piled high and a glass bottle of Coke from Mexico in hand, he settled into his favourite chair and began to enjoy himself until you came home from work.

When you did come home, you heard the faint sound of voices coming from the back of the house. You dropped your bag at the front door, running through the house so quickly, you’d forgotten to take your shoes off. In the living room sat Bradley, in his favourite, well-loved chair, dozing as sports highlights played in the background, a plate with remnants of a sandwich and a half-finished bottle of Coke sat on the table beside him. 

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his forehead as you stroked his curls, breathing in the smell of his shampoo. He was finally home.

Bradley’s eyes fluttered open, a smile forming on his lips as he wrapped his arms tightly around you, his nose pressed to your neck as you settled into his lap. 

“Missed you,” he murmured against your skin, peppering you with kisses.

“Missed you more, B,” you echoed as you raked your fingers through his hair. 

“God, I missed you so much, honey. This might have been the hardest trip away from you yet.” 

Bradley’s hands rested firmly on your hips as his lips wandered down your neck to your collarbone. He mumbled against your skin, shoving the strap of your tank top down off of your shoulder. His teeth grazed at your exposed, sun kissed skin, causing you to let out a gasp. 

“Bradley!” you squealed, laughing as his deep brown eyes looked at you, taking in the sight of your face again. 

“Mhmm, I missed that laugh of yours,” he hummed, his large hands moving to cup your breasts. “I’ve missed these tits of yours too.”

“I bet you have, were Jake’s not doing it for you?” you teased.

Bradley scoffed as he pulled your tank top off over your head, tossing it off to somewhere in the void across the room. With one hand snaked around your back, he unfastened your bra in one fluid motion, discarding it to the floor. He grinned at you before pressing his mouth back to your collarbone, thumbs tracing circles over your nipples as they pebbled at his touch.

“No, one’s could do it for me like yours do, honey, you know that. Look at you. So pretty for me. My girl’s always looking pretty, ain’t she?” he purred between kisses to your breasts. 

“Bradley,” you laughed, shaking your head, “This is what you want now that you’re finally home?”

“I’ve been wantin’ this since about two hours after I left, six months without you has been torture. I contemplated quitting when I came home. I thought about faking an injury so they’d discharge me. I tried thinking up a thousand ways to come home early — all of them bad.” He nodded, as he looked up at you, hands still cupping your tits. 

“Mhmm, you thought about quitting for me? That’s not the Bradley Bradshaw I know.”

“I swear, honey, this time…this time was harder than usual.”

“Well, I’m all yours now,” you nodded, your hand stroking his cheek. 

Bradley hummed to himself, tilting his head to the side as he thought for a minute. He looked at you, watching as you bit your lower lip. The sight of you alone after so much time apart was enough to make him hard, but now it was becoming unbearable. He needed you. He craved you. 

“Upstairs, now,” he urged, nodding his head as you got off his lap.

You grinned to yourself as you headed up the stairs, walking just slowly enough to your bedroom so Bradley could catch the way your hips swayed with every step, your taut ass bouncing with each movement. It was enough to drive any man insane, but Bradley could barely contain himself. 

Fuck, he missed you.

He pushed you on to the bed, crawling on all fours as he hovered over your body with a wide grin plastered to his face. You placed a hand on his chest, steadying him as your smile faltered for a second. You held your breath for a moment before exhaling, nodding slowly as Bradley sat back on his knees for a minute. 

“Go easy on me, big guy, it’s been a long six months, I’m out of practice,” you teased, grinning at him.

“Shoot, honey, I thought you were gonna tell me you didn’t want me to-never mind, I’ll go easy on ya. I always do, don’t I?”

“Roo, you do the exact opposite of going easy.” You grinned, rolling your eyes at Bradley. 

Bradley repositioned himself over your body, smirking as he took in the sight of you again. His lips began trailing down your abdomen your shorts, sending chills running up and down your spine with every breathy kiss, every drag of his mustache against your skin. With a skillful hand, he popped the button on your shorts open, sitting up as he pulled them off of you. He hooked two fingers into the crotch of your lace trimmed underwear, shoving them out of the way as he ducked his head between your thighs. Feather-light kisses dotted your inner thighs before his mouth found your core. He flattened his tongue against your slit, running it up your folds slowly as he savoured everything he’d missed for the last six months. 

“Just as pretty as I remember it, fuck.”

His fingers spread your folds apart, giving him better access to your clit. The tip of his tongue traced shapes along it, pressing varying degrees of pressure into you, the tip of his nose pressing into your puffy cunt, swollen from how badly you’d been wanting him for the last six months. He mumbled something against your skin, his lips vibrating against your clit as he pressed another kiss to you. He sat himself up fully, smirking at you.

“Get up, pretty girl, I have an idea.”

You let out a whine in protest, sitting up on the bed as Bradley now laid down on his back. Shooting him a look, you raised your palms in protest, shaking your head at him.

“Bradley, you seriously stopped so I would give it to you instead?”

“What? No,” Bradley laughed, shaking his head as he gestured to his face. “Take a seat.”

“You want me to…?”

Bradley lifted his head up off the pillow, giving you a lustful stare, his eyebrows knitting together as he nodded his head. “Did I stutter? Take. A. Seat.”

You rolled your eyes, giving your head a shake as you slipped out of your underwear, dropping them to the floor. Climbing back on to the bed, you hovered yourself above Bradley’s mouth, looking down at him as you chewed on your lip. He shook his head, his mustache tickling at your inner thigh as he kissed up your leg. In one swift motion, he gripped your thighs tightly, pulling you down until his lips were directly under your dripping core, smirking as he murmured against your skin again. 

“That’s my girl. I’ve missed this pussy so fuckin’ much.” He grunts, nodding his head slightly as he buries his tongue into you, nose pressed to your clit. 

“Bradley!” you whimper, your eyes fluttering shut as you reached down, fingers tugging on his dark curls.

Bradley’s tongue worked into you at a breakneck speed, so fast that you wondered how he was able to breathe. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, blunt fingernails digging into your soft skin as he held you in place. His mouth worked on you relentlessly, refusing to let up until he had you a screaming, crying, pretty little mess, just how he (and you) liked it. 

“Bradley, Bradley, Bradley,” you babbled, unable to say anything other than his name as his tongue fucked into you. 

He grunted into your cunt again, mumbling words of praise into your skin. “Tastes so fuckin’ sweet, honey, so fuckin’ sweet.” He growled before delving his tongue into you again.

Your thighs began to shudder and shake, spasming as you felt your orgasm hit you harder than ever before. You shut your eyes, tears stinging as Bradley continued, not breaking his rhythm once as you came, his tongue quickly lapping at your arousal hungrily. He moved his mouth up to your clit, kissing at it with a couple of powerful sucks before pulling his mouth away. He let go of your thighs, a couple of darker marks forming on your skin from where he got carried away, gripping you a little too tightly. You got up, sitting on the bed, panting as you tried to find your mental clarity again. 

Bradley rolled onto his side and surveyed your thigh, pressing gentle kisses to the darkened marks on your skin in apology. Once you found your words again, his big brown eyes looked up at you from where he was laying on the bed. 

“Roo,” you nodded, placing a hand on his cheek, “I missed you so much.”

“I missed ya too, honey. Ain’t done with ya yet though.”

With that, Bradley quickly shimmied out of his denim shorts and boxers, kicking them off clumsily. He crawled across the bed, finding the spot between your thighs. His hands smoothed over your legs, lifting them up and hoisting them up onto his shoulders. You curved your knees around him as he aligned his hardened cock with your entrance, easing into you with a soft groan. 

“That’s my girl, taking me so well. You missed this cock, didn’t you? Missed me fillin’ ya up, huh, pretty girl?” He purred, pausing as he felt your walls stretching around him. 

“Yes, baby,” you nodded, whining as he stretched you. 

God, he was right. You did miss him. You missed him more than you wanted to let on, you missed his presence, his voice, the silly things he’d do that pissed you off, you missed the way he made love to you, passionate and caring, full of praise, making it his life’s mission to make you feel good. He took it as seriously as his work - calculated movements, using the same precision and laser-focus he did in the air.

Your eyelids fluttered shut again as you felt him pull out of you, pushing himself back into you again with a powerful thrust of his hips. Bradley tutted his tongue against the roof of his mouth, refusing to move again. “Nuh-uh, baby girl, keep those pretty eyes on me. Want you lookin’ at me when I fuck you, got it?”

You nodded dumbly as he pounded into your entrance again, making your head spin as your walls clenched around him. He began thrusting into you, starting slowly as he found his rhythm again, savouring every movement, every inch of you that he’d missed over the last six months. Bradley gently pressed his palm into your pubic bone as he thrusted harder, faster into you, the sensation heightening with the added pressure he was giving. You could tell by the knot turning in your stomach that it wasn’t going to be long before you were coming for him again, and if Bradley had his way, it wouldn’t be the last time you did tonight. 

“Feelin’ so fuckin’ good, pretty girl. That’s my girl. That’s my pretty girl,” he praised, his confident demeanor melting away, leaving Bradley a pussy drunk, babbling mess, unable to say anything other than your praises, repeating your name over and over as if it was a spoken prayer.

“‘M not gonna last, honey,” Bradley shook his head as he moaned breathlessly.

Fuck.

His breath hitched in his throat as his hips slowed, stilling as he came inside of you. Bradley let out the deepest grunt you’d ever heard — the past six months of missing you drawing out of him along with it. Ducking his head down as he tried to catch his breath, his curls slicked and stuck to his forehead with sweat, he panted heavily, gently letting your legs go as you dropped them back down to the bed. He looked up at you, deep brown eyes fixed on your features as he nodded breathlessly.

“Fuck, I missed you, honey. I missed this, and you, and home.”

“Welcome home, Rooster. Welcome home.”

[evie-sturns]

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ᴄᴀᴍᴘ - ᴍᴀᴛᴛ ꜱᴛᴜʀɴɪᴏʟᴏ

(part 3) (part 2) (part 1)

summary: you and your best-friend matt, have decided to sign up to be a summer camp counsellor for your school's summer project! will you two stay as just friends? or will this summer turn out different for you guys.

a/n: glad you guys are liking this series, this part is smutty af, but i like it, i might be wrong but i think this is a little shorter than part 1 and 2.

contains: SMUT! fluff, making out, swearing.

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he pulls away slowly as his phone lights up, he scrolls through it before letting out a soft laugh "no way" he scoffs, rubbing his eyes. "tonight were sleeping in the kids hall, like me and you, supervising.."

"you're kidding matt"

"nope, apparently theres a small cabin that connects off the kids hall, its got 1 bed that we share" he laughs

my cheeks flush, sharing a bed with matt, after this?..

-

after my makeout session with my bestfriend ,matt, we both went back to our own cabins, packing certain things to prepare for sleeping next to the kids sleeping-hall.

"xaiveerrr!" i yell, swinging the door to our cabin, hes sitting comfortably on his bed, still wearing his swimshorts as he scrolls through his phone. "y/n! i was waiting for you to come back to the lake?" he says, slightly confused.

"oh i just went into the kayak shed with matt." i smile, trying to wipe the blush off my face.

he raises an eyebrow "why'd you go in there? you totally abandoned me, i had to try make friends with fucking lincoln, hes weird as fuck.."

my mind scrambles, trying to think of a believable excuse for why i disappeared with matt into a dark shed for 25 minutes. i open my mouth, nothing comes out.

silence grows in me and xaivers shared cabin before he interrupts "no way, you kissed matt!?" he laughs, i slam my hand over his mouth "ew no what the hell!" i say defensivley.

"you're getting defenssiiivveee" he teases, my face goes cherry red. "we didn't do anything xaiver." i mutter, walking over and packing my toothbrush and pyjamas in a small tote bag.

"oh girl, i know you're not moving out right now, i was kidding!!!" he says, staring at me while i pack everything i need for a night.

"im not moving out, me and matt have to spend the night in the kids hall."

he gasps "oh my god, its luxury in there, i heard paige and dani were in there the other night, the cabin which you guys stay in is relativly close to the kids hall, so you're not actually in with the kids, its just a private room near it." xaiver says.

"oh thank god, though id have to sleep in a bunk in the middle of the kids hall." i sigh, throwing my tote bag over my shoulder, hugging xaiver goodbye.

"don't have too much fun with matt" he whispers, resulting in me slapping his arm "shut up."

-

I walk down the long gravel path towards matts cabin, its got a small sign outside which reads, 'MATT & LINCOLN' i walk up to their cabin, knocking twice. matt swings open the door, hes got a toothbrush in hand.

"where the fuck is your bag" i laugh.

"bag?" he questions

"yeah? overnight bag, like pyjamas, toothbruhs, face wash..."

his face stays deadpan "oh uh, this is all i need." he laughs pointing to the toothbrush.

"doesn't matter, lets go." i say unlocking my phone and reading the time 7:34pm

matt subtly holds my hand as we approach the kids hall, theres a small cabin about 20 meters away from it, "theres our room!" he says, walking me over to it and swinging open the door, theres one double bed with a book of rules on it. i place my bag down on the bed as matt flicks through the book

"all the campers must be in bed by 9pm, uhh, any complications call jessie in the main office.." he trails off "seems easy enough."

after a few minutes of unpacking matt grabs my hand again, my heartrate increases as he stares into my eyes, "c'mon, lets go check out the kids hall." he says before letting my hand go and walking out into the evening air.

we walk up the stairs to the kids hall, opening the double doors.

theres about 100 bunk beds, with around 200 hundred kids scattered across the room, wall diveders in some parts so its not just an open room, a group of kids are doing gymnastics, another couple are reading, its chaotic but controlled.

i look up at matt, he seems slightly overwhelmed.

instantly three six year old girls run up to us,

"are you guys boyfriend girlfriennddd!" one of them says, smiling up at me and matt. another group of slightly older girls come up to me, "can we braid your hair?"

i look at matt, hes smiling at me, a small blush painted on his cheeks, "yeah sure!" i say as one of the nine year olds pulls me towards her bunk bed, sitting me and matt down.

she giggles as she pulls out two hairbands, tying up matt's hair into pigtails above his head. matt rubs his eyes, as they start placing bows in his hair. "looking good matt" i say, nudging his arm.

-

i check my watch again, 8:55pm

shit.

i stand up from her bunk bed, my hair decked out in glitter hairspray.

i drag matt away from his makeover, "hey, we're just getting to the good part!" matt whines, "matt we have 5 minutes to have 200 kids asleep." i say, stressed, running my hand through my crispy hair.

"you guys have to be in bed in 5 minutes guys! whoever falls asleep first gets a candy!" i yell from the middle of the hall, instantly all the kids leap into bed, screaming as they gather their stuffed animals.

the whole room goes silent, apart from a few whispers, i look at matt whos got a suprised expression spread across his face. i grab his hand before walking towards the door, flicking off the light and stepping out into the night breeze.

we approach our small cabin for the night, matt opens the door, pulling me inside and locking the wooden door behind us.

"we should finish what we started earlier." he mumbles, looking down at me in the dimly lit cabin.

"what?" i whisper, but im cut off by his hand on the side of my cheek, he leans down, pulling me into a gentle kiss.

"we can't matt." i say pulling away.

"why not, you scared?" he teases.

"anyone can walk in or hear us, the walls are paper thin." i sigh.

"who said we have to do it in here?" matt says seductively

"im not fucking you in a public bathroom, thats gross." i sigh, walking over and grabbing my toothbrush.

"come with me." matt whispers, taking my hand and unlocking the door to the cabin. he grips onto my hand as he runs towards the trees, he picks me up, taking me into the garland until theres a patch of soft grass.

he waits for me to say something.

"i think i need you.." i mumble as he lays me on the grass on my back.

"tell me what you want me to do to you baby." he whispers, grabbing the inside of my thigh.

"fuck.. please fuck me." i whisper shakily.

i pull my tanktop off over my head, to his suprise i have no bra on underneath. my nipples instantly become hard as the breeze hits them. i pull down my pyjama shorts, leaving me revealed for him

"its gonna be okay baby, just tell me when." matt says, pulling his sweatpants down.

his length springs out, tapping his stomach lightly.

"oh my fuck-" i groan, throwing my head back as he kneels between my legs, lining himself up with my entrance "you gotta be nice and quiet for me, can you do that for me?" he says, holding my hand.

he slowly pushes inside of me, his length stretching me out, i wince. "breathe." matt says, "look at me sweetheart." he mumbles as he thrusts deeper inside of me, my eyes stay sealed shut. "watch me baby or i'll stop."

he pulls out to his tip, then thrusts back in "taking me so well."

i let out a loud moan, "shut up, and take it." he says slamming a hand over my mouth. his thrusts intenseify, my moans are muffled by his palm. "im gonna fuck-" i groan, "hold it for me." he says, continuing to fuck me. without warning i clench around him, letting myself go.

he abrubtly pulls out, stroking himself a few times as he whimpers, realeasing all over my stomach before collapsing down beside me.

"im so proud of you." he whispers shakily as he pulls up his sweatpants. he hands me my shorts as he stands up, pulling me onto my feet as my legs tremble. "you okay?" he looks down at me, concern spread across his face.

"mmfgh." i mumble out, still processing what just happened, matt chuckles before picking me up and running us back to the cabin.

(the next morning)

I wake up to the godawful sound of dani's voice, i open my eyes slowly looking at her as she looks down at the bed, her arms folded.

i tap matt, forcing him awake. he groans as he yawns, his eyes springing open. his face drops as he sees danielle.

"saw you two last night." she says, her arms folded.

my stomach drops.

"jessie wants you two in her office, such a shame that you have to go home so early, you were only here for such a small amount of time! guess someone didn't read the no romance between staff rule.." she tuts.

"god, i feel soo sorry for you guys, also gonna fail business class cause you couldn't even keep a job here." she says in a fake sympathetic tone.

tears well in my eyes, threatening to fall.

"oh well, go on get dressed and pack your bags, better to be prepared before you see jessie." she sighs before walking out of our cabin.

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taglist which i forgot earlier

@iammattsturniolo @iloveneilperry @tatumrileyslover @chrisstopherfilmed

@leprechaunbirthdaygirl

not too sure wtf just happened none of it workin

[pigeonpeach]

Heart of the Hearth

Aka Arlecchino Husbandry continued.

Summary: your baby daddy Arle puts a ring on your finger

Cw: none really. Fluff and domestic vibes all the way. Baby Lynette and Lyney plus Freminet but they snoozing. Fem reader.

Its a cold winter outside of Fontaine currently. You’ve decided to spend the night as you doubt you’ll make it home in this weather. Luckily your boss has given you a room of your own separate from the kid’s rooms. But you won’t make it there as for the first time ever little Lynette is cuddling with you. She lays her little head on your lap like a sleepy kitten as she dozes off into a pleasant dream. Lyney sleeps on your other thigh, drool trickling down his cheeks as you shut his mouth so he won’t stain his pajamas. Little Freminet sleeps nearby snuggling with Lyney. The domestic scenery further melting your heart more than the fireplace could. You however were awake for one simple reason:back pain. You and the kids were in the living room where you had originally been talking off their ears in a attempt to help them sleep only for you to become their pillow. If it was just Lyney you would have picked them both up and carried them to the bunk beds but little Lynette looked to cute to disturb and so you resigned to be a pillow.

The wind outside is howling but you trust the windows hold strong. The Knave should be in her office as usual. You don’t have the ability to check if she’s fallen asleep at her desk again. But the door opens as her high heels click down the stairs to your room. You fix your hair slightly as she opens the door.

“You’re not in your room? Is the mattress not to your standards?” She asks. Her eyes are typically cold and calculating, but right now you notice a different glint in them, not one you’ve seen before. A glint of pride or surprise perhaps as he spots the slumbering children.

“They couldn’t sleep so I took them here so they wouldn’t wake the others. And then they fell asleep on me.” A polite smile graces your lips. You notice her gaze soften seeing Lynette move briefly to be closer to you as she snores lightly. You notice a small smile on her face. Not too noticeable. She crouches down to examine Lynette.

“It appears you’re a more comfortable bed to them.” She says brushing some hair out of her face, giving a gentle scratch to her ears which flicker in response.

“I was quite surprised too. Its why I haven’t moved. I just didn’t want to ruin it for her.”

Arlecchino humms as she looks up at you. “You seem uncomfortable though. Why is that?”

“O-oh.. just my back. Its been a real pain recently.” You nervously say.

“Why is that?” She says as she stands up, still examining you. Her gaze isn’t as intimidating as it usually is. You notice her demeanor is different too. She isn’t just her for business or professional purposes. She deliberately left her office to look for you. Her hair is also down, no longer tied. She circles to behind the couch.

“Well.. I’m not sure. It could just be stress or maybe I’ve bent over too much.” You say. Lyney shuffles a bit, humming as he adjusts himself to a more comfortable position while still asleep. You rest your hand on his head to pat him gently.

“You certainly look more stressed than usual. You haven’t even changed out of your uniform into your pajamas.” She comments.

“Well truth be told I couldn’t sleep either. I felt like I forgot something to do.”

She humms as your nerves jolt at her hands suddenly landing gently on your shoulders. Her pals digging into the muscles of your collar like a massage. You blush taken off guard.

“M-mi-“

“Shh.” She says gently. “You will wake the children. If you get too worked up.”

“Sorry… I just..”

“Is it unpleasant for you? Its a bit difficult with my nails.” She comments. You shake your head.

“I’m just surprised. You’ve been so… soft to me lately And I just don’t understand why?”

Another hum as he continues with the massage. “You are important here, these children are easier to manage with you around. They admire you very much so. Is it wrong for me to care for the mother of my children?” She says. The way she says mother sends a shiver down your spine. You hadn’t seen your dynamic like that, a mother and father. But she was right.

“A m-mother.. oh I’m just a caretaker I’m sure I’m not that important.” You say attempting to be more humble and calm.

“Hmm not so. Little Lynette wouldn’t rest on the lap of a simple caretaker. They came to you when they were distressed. They also do, all of my children come to you when i am not available. You sing them lullabies and wipe their tears and you kiss their scars. You are the only mother they have here. Of course they would treasure you. And so should I.” Her voice sends more tingles down your spine. Her voice is deep, it sounds powerful but soft. Devoted but strong. “You are the mother to my children, you are very important to me.” There’s no room for debate on that matter. She’s clear with how she sees you. You gulp as you blush even more so.

“Y-you’re right on that matter.. but its such a…weird concept…”

“Weird?” She pauses. “How so?”

“We-well its just that it almost sounds like we’re married when you say it like that. I’m only your employee.” You say nervously. You look up at her as you notice that look in her eyes which makes you forget to breathe. Her eyes hold a passion and devotion you had previously not seen before. There’s also this sense that she’s holding back. Her fingers leave your shoulders and grip the edge of the couch. Her nails likely leaving a scratch.

“Is that idea something you’re uncomfortable with?”

“Maybe not.” You say quietly, averting your gaze. She smiles as she can sense your heart racing as her hands return to your collar. She notices how you seem to almost move to meet her touch.

“Excellent.” Her voice is almost like a purr. She presses a kiss to the nape of your neck making you blush.

“I’ll get you the finest of rings then. And we’ll start on preparations for the wedding tomorrow after my 12 o clock meeting, but for now.” Her hands trails to your right as she slides one of her own rings onto your ring finger. “This will do.”

[inkyquince]

I just saw a post about parents building their son a cool new bed and being excited for him and his special interest is dinosaurs and you can tell and I was hit by insane baby fever

So I'm just thinking about Eden, hand making your kid's bed. Carving each piece of wood, whittling tiny designs in it. Your kid is getting too big for the cot and he'd rather die than have them in bed with you two so he sits, bare foot and surrounded by different pieces of lumber, perfectly measured to slot together and puts it all together.

Avery, who orders your kid a new bed, making sure it's one of the cool ones. A bunk bed with a lil play area underneath, with safe stairs for them to climb down from instead of a ladder. He bought the cot and made sure it was aesthetically pleasant, soft white painted wood and all pretty but loves your kid enough to indulge. Has other people build it while they're at school but watches you excitedly set up the play area and tucking their toys in and making up the bed. Something in him feels it's because you didn't get to be excited about a new bed. The other part brushes it over and kisses the back of your neck.

Wren yelling fuck as he hammers his thumb again. Grumbling loudly. Whines for a kiss every time you pop your head in. Wren was going to buy a cheap IKEA bed and make it up cool but Remy caught wind and sent over one of those fucking beds that takes forever to put together, has drawers built into it, everything. Remy smoothly told you it's because he makes sure his people are happy but Wren knows for a fuckin fact that it's because he already owned it and wanted to get it out of the manor. He's more excited to pick out sheets and new toys, because a kid needs a cool fuckin bed!

Bailey leaving halfway through, crumpling up the instructions. Snaps at you to leave him alone when he leaves the house. You feel uneasy, and try to take over, but shit, it's complicated... Where the hell is slot G? What's rod C? Its not even funny to make it into a sex joke anymore. You sit there, desperately checking the time, wanting your kid to get to come home to a upgraded bed after nagging Bailey to stop being a cheapskate. Then the door flings open and arguing voices spill over each other. The asshole drags his friends who all currently owe him a favour in, making them help him or god HELP THEM, he will start throwing hands. Briar idly questions your choice in the design, as Harper SWEATS, bullied into being the one who holds up the balancing edge of the bed frame. Remy and Bailey arguing about instructions and are so close to hitting each other until Wren smugly points out they've been reading it upside down. When it's actually put together, they all go to the kitchen and steal your beers as Briar stays behind and idly watches you make up the bed, offering tips on how to make it look cosier.

And of course your kid lets themselves in with their key, ignores all the men who did the work and flings themselves into your arms, babbling out thanks yous for the cool new bed! The ensemble quietly reminds each other to get vasectomies and Bailey just gives you the evil eye.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Love Letters: Day Five

Steve Harrington x fem!reader [3K] A touch of a hand, only one bed with Steve.

THE LETTERBOX ♥

“Robin,” Steve hissed across the kitchen island, “Robin, I swear, I will actually kill you.”

The girl blinked, unfazed after so many years of friendship and empty threats. She grabbed the glass of water that Steve was definitely pouring for himself - not her - and grinned. 

“Sure you will. Do it in the morning, yeah? I’m beat,” she winked, backing towards the stairs where Nancy was waiting. “Sweet dreams… and you know, safe sex and all that.”

Steve glared, but his anger was overshadowed by the way his cheeks were glowing pink, even in the dark of the evening. 

You were waiting on the sofa, nervously picking at a loose thread on your shirt, pretending you didn’t hear everything that had just been said. Steve swallowed, blew out a deep breath and gave you a small, shy smile when you looked up and met his gaze. 

Honestly, Steve hadn’t even wanted to come on the trip. But it was Valentine’s weekend and despite breaking up a few months prior, Nancy and Jonathan were going above and beyond to assure the rest of the group that it totally wasn’t awkward and of course everyone could still hang out together. 

And what better way to prove that than to rent a cabin for a few nights out by Sugar Creek, courtesy of Mr and Mrs Harrington’s credit card, of course. Steve had shrugged off the offer at first, unbothered and wanting a weekend off to hang out in his room and be lazy, play some video games, reunite himself with his stash of playboys and maybe even catch a basketball game with some old school friends. 

But Robin begged and begged, claiming how much fun it would be, waxing poetic about forest walks and log fires and marshmallows and movie nights. The boy hadn’t perked up until she mentioned your name, and how you’d be joining. 

And that was fine. It was. ‘Cause you and Steve were friends, closer than ever, actually. Hanging out more and more just the two of you until Steve wasn’t sure what was just friends being friends and what was a date. But the first night at the cabin rolled in after pizza and some movies, a game of go fish that had alcoholic consequences and suddenly the bags that had been dumped at the doorway needed to be allocated to rooms. 

The three bedrooms. For seven people. 

Nancy and Jonathan cleared their throats and exchanged tight smiles, looking awkwardly around the room until Nancy’s voice went a little too high and bright as she exclaimed, “Robin! Roomies?”

Robin agreed, looking over at you with a silent apology, ‘cause she was the one who’s invited you. But you smiled and shrugged and weren’t all that surprised when Jonathan claimed Argyle and the two boys shuffled off to the room furthest away from Robin and Nancy’s. 

It just left you, Eddie and Steve. It seemed simple enough to deduce that you’d sleep on the sofa, sure that there’d be some spare pillows and quilts hidden in a closet or two. But Eddie threw himself down on the cushions before you could, stretching out and groaning theatrically, a grin on his face that seemed to be reserved for Steve. 

“Well,” he declared, beaming at you both as you stood shoulder to shoulder, lips parted in surprise. “Night night, kids.”

Steve made a strangled noise, somewhere stuck between surprise and a protest of some sort, but you beat him to talking. “Uh, wouldn’t I be better on the couch, Eddie?” you smiled, shy and sweet and it made Eddie grin wider. “You guys can bunk together instead.”

Eddie scoffed, already shrugging off his hoodie and throwing it somewhere across the room. “And leave a lady on the sofa?” He pouted at you. “What do you take us for, huh, sweetheart? Two douchebags?”

He didn’t give you a chance to protest. 

“Don’t sweat it, you and Stevie can share a room, it’ll be real cosy.”

You were definitely sweating it. And by the looks of the boy’s wide eyes and flushed cheeks, so was Steve. 

Eddie grinned again, salacious and as if he knew something you didn’t.  He lay back on the cushions, an arm sling behind his head as he waved the other at you both, fingers wiggling. 

“Leave room for Jesus,” he winked. 

————

Leaving space for the lord and saviour didn’t seem to be a possibility, ‘cause when you opened the door to the last bedroom, you stood and stared at the sight before you. From over your shoulder, with his chest almost pressed to your back, Steve swore quietly. 

There was only one bed. 

And it was tiny, less than a double, only a little larger than a single, with two pillows stacked on top of each other. You dropped your bag as you stepped into the room, a cosy space with matching pine furniture and deep green walls, almost the same shade as the forest outside the window. 

You spun on your heel, looking at Steve who was more flushed than ever, cheeks a pretty tint of pink and his lips were parted in a silent gasp that didn’t seem to end. He looked a little overwhelmed, the same way you felt. 

“Um—”

“Look, I can,” Steve interrupted, his voice a little weak, apologetic almost. “I can share the couch with Eddie.”

You frowned, a tiny stitch between your brows that Steve wanted to soothe away with the pad of his thumb. He didn’t. 

“Steve, the couch is smaller than the bed,” you huffed out a soft laugh but Steve could sense your nerves through the humour. He saw the way your chest was rising a little too quickly, the way you were pushing at your hair behind your ear. “And no offence to Eddie, but I think he might take up more room than me.” You smiled, shy and unsure and it felt like an offering. 

Steve smiled back, just as nervous, hands a little clammy ‘cause despite all the afternoons, the late nights and days out he’d spent with you, the closet he’d gotten was sitting beside you in the dark of his parents living room, shoulder to shoulder so he could feel you flinch when the movie screeched and the murderer appeared on screen. 

This was different. This was so much closer. This was more than the possibility of a date. 

“I could sleep in my car, or something,” Steve tried again but he really didn’t want to sleep in his car. But truly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to sleep next to you. The idea of it overwhelmed him. “I don’t wanna make you uncom—”

“Steve,” you cut him off, not unkindly, voice all soft and unsure and you were frowning again but shitshitshit, you looked sad. “Do I smell bad, or something? D’you think I have cooties..?”

“What?” The boy looked alarmed, “no! No, no, of course not. You smell, like, the opposite of bad.” Steve was rambling, his chest tight and hot with embarrassment but he couldn’t stop himself. “You smell like, super nice, all the time. Like, like mango or something. Cherries ‘n shit. Fuck.”

 You were grinning by the time he cut himself off with a curse, lashes fluttering shut as he winced and you wanted to reach out to him, curl your fingers around his in reassurance but you didn’t feel as brave as that. Not yet. 

“I won’t feel uncomfortable,” you told him instead and it warmed Steve to hear how sincere you sounded. “As long as you’re okay with it?”

Steve could only nod. 

And then you were disappearing into the tiny bathroom across the hall, a bundle that Steve assumed was your pyjamas clutched to your chest with your toothbrush. You smiled as you passed him, still shy, cheeks as flushed as his and you were pretty, you were so, so pretty that it made Steve’s chest hurt. 

The boy groaned into his hands when you closed the door, wondering how he was supposed to spend the night pressed up against you and not pop a boner. ‘Cause that shit had been happening most mornings for the last eight years and having a pretty girl tucked in beside him wasn’t a necessary ingredient. 

He heard you run the tap, the sound of your jeans and sweater hit the floor and he startled, rushing to pull out what he’d packed. Despite the extra pair of jeans, another sweater, a few t-shirts, a handful of boxers and the switched off walkie- talkie Dustin insisted he took, there wasn’t anything that Steve could wear to bed. 

He swore, groaning again as he threw his bag down onto the carpet and started to panic. Of course he didn’t pack pyjamas, he didn’t own pyjamas and he really didn’t expect to be sharing a room with anyone other than Eddie this weekend, maybe Robin, and neither of them certainly cared about him sleeping in his underwear. 

Steve was standing in the middle of the small room when you reappeared, still in his jeans and t-shirt, one hand buried in his messy hair. He smiled at you, an almost grimace that looked like an apology but it quickly faded into a slack jawed gape as he took in your shorts, your tiny tank top with tinier straps. 

You scrunched your nose as you dropped your clothes on top of your duffle, crossing your arms over your chest and you faced him with a new sort of shyness. Steve wasn’t sure he’d seen this much of your skin before.  

“Sorry,” you murmured softly. “I kinda assumed I’d be in with Robin.”

Steve let out a laugh, just as soft as your voice and he smiled a little easier. “Same,” he grinned before it faltered, nerves overshadowing once more. “I don’t, uh, I don’t have anything to wear to bed.”

You swept past him, mango and strawberry body wash left in the air behind you, as you sat on the edge of the bed, a heat to your cheeks that only you could feel. You swallowed hard, licked your bottom lip and tried to sound bolder than you felt. 

“You can take your jeans off, Harrington, I won’t bite.”

Steve turned beetroot at your words, lips parted and you swore you heard his breath hitch. But he nodded, hands fumbling at his waistband and you smiled, ducking your chin and turning away so he could undress with your eyes on him. 

You heard the denim hit the floor with a soft thump, his sweater following, until Steve cleared his throat and you turned back to see him in chequered boxers, a white T-shirt that looked old and soft. His hair was a riot from how he’d undressed so swiftly, eyes bright with nerves? Anticipation? Excitement?

There so much skin to see, all bare legs and arms between you both, your tank top revealing more of your chest that you’d usually put on display and when Steve stretched over the desk to turn off the small lamp, you caught a flash of his tummy, the trail of hair there, the jut of his hip bones before the room went dark. 

You couldn’t see him. Not with the absence of street lights outside the window, the tall forest hiding you both from the glow of the moon. But you felt Steve fumble over, heard him curse when his toes hit his bag and the bed dipped when his hands found it. 

“You got a preference?” He whispered, “what side do you wanna sleep on?”

You shook your head and shrugged before you realised that the boy couldn’t really see you either so you let out a breath and whispered right back. “I don’t mind,” you told him but you shuffled back anyway, crawling up the mattress until you could tuck yourself under the duvet. 

Steve followed, slowly, hesitantly, the sheets lifting and the bed dipped as he lay beside you, his head on the same pillow, close enough that you could smell his shampoo and the cologne he always wore. 

“Shit, sorry,” he winced when his hip bumped yours, an inevitable outcome considering the lack of space but the contact made your body burn so you could only hum back a response. 

The silence stretched on as your eyes grew used to the dark, until the ink black turned into shades of navy and you could see the outline of the furniture, the rise and fall of Steve’s chest beside you. The boy was as close to the edge as he could get without falling off, and you were almost sure he’d planted one foot on the ground below to ensure that didn’t happen.  You were on your side, body stiff and straight when your hands curled to your chest so you didn’t accidentally touch him and it was uncomfortable, it was impossible, it was frustrating. 

“Steve?” Your voice rang out like a bullet in the quiet, despite how softly you spoke and Steve startled. 

“Yeah?” Steve shuffled further away and your stomach dropped. “You good? I can go downstairs, honestly, there’s an armchair that looks like it might actually recline and I—”

You reached out, a hand across the mattress, across the cool space between you both until your fingers trailed across his arm. He was warm, much warmer than you and you let your hand curl around his bicep, underneath the cotton of his shirt and you felt him still. You circled your thumb on the inside of his arm, just once, in a way that you hoped was reassuring. 

Steve stopped talking. 

“You can come closer, you know,” you hated how shy you sounded, how unsure. But you were wearing next to nothing in bed with the boy you really, really liked and maybe it had been a stupid though, but you started to believe Steve liked you too. You couldn’t handle his rejection, not like this. “If you want to. It’s okay.”

You held your breath. Then, Steve moved, shifting across the sheets -  inches, really - until his leg was pressed to yours and then he rolled, settling onto his side and facing you. He finally relaxed, and you felt it, the way he sunk into the pillow, the way his breath left him in a long, soft sigh that smelled like spearmint toothpaste. 

You could make out the line of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips. He was watching you, lashes fanning over the highs of his cheeks and Steve was all shades of blue and lavender in the shadows. You watched him part his lips as if to speak, but he decided against it, smiling softly instead.

So you whispered, “hi.”

His smile turned to something even more gentle, his body shifting a little closer still when you brought your hands to lay on the mattress between you both. Steve did the same, centimetres apart, close enough to feel the warmth from the other. 

“Hi,” he whispered back. He was looking at you like he thought you were magic, like you were made of gold dust, of stars. “Is this okay?”

You nodded, bottom lip tucked between teeth and it was okay, it was very, very okay. “Yeah, it’s okay, Steve.”

His heart clenched at the sound of his name on your lips, the way it always did, but Jesus Christ, you were whispering it to him in bed and it made him dizzy, made him see colours behind his eyelids that weren’t there when he blinked, hazy, feeling drunk. 

It made him feel braver. The dark, the blue shadows, the way you were looking at him like he wasn’t close enough. So he inched his hand forward, fingertips touching yours, a light graze, a small advance, a question, a what now? 

It was electric. 

Steve could’ve leant in, closed his eyes, found your mouth with his in the dark. Or maybe he’d wait until the last second, let his nose bump against your own until he could see your lashes flutter and your lips part for him.  

Would you do that? Would you let him? 

Your toes brushed his ankles, a shock of cold in the heat of the bed and it made Steve sigh, made his hand move over your own  a little more bravely. His pinky finger slid along the length of yours. He watched you swallow, eyes wide, bright even in the dark. 

He whispered your name, another question. Maybe a promise. It sounded like ‘please.’

You nodded, breath held in your chest until it burned, a white, hot lick of heat over your throat and it was delicate, it was insane, it was the best thing you’d ever felt until—

Steve leaned in, slow and careful, pupils blown wide and his nose pressed to your cheek  as you lifted your chin for him, lips parting so his slid over your own, a warm, soft kiss that made you gasp into his mouth. 

It was chaste until it wasn’t. It was gentle until your hand left Steve’s and they curled into the front of his shirt, soft cotton fisted between your fingers and you were pulling him closer still. His hand found your waist, slipping over and under the silky material of your pyjamas, an almost accident but he gripped you tighter when you pushed yourself into him. 

And then fingers were trailing up your side, a ghost over the dips and curve of your breast, almost too sensitive without a bra, too much bare skin to feel. Steve’s hand cupped your jaw, a soft cradle, a sweet hold until his thumb tugged at the corner of your bottom lip, sneaking between his mouth and yours so he could coax you to open up for him and you did with a breathy keen. 

Nothing else happened that night, but it was enough. You whispered into the night, kissed each other sweet and slow and deep and dirty and fell asleep tangled in each other. And in the morning, you avoided everyone’s knowing gaze, ignored the way Eddie grinned and wiggled his brows. 

“Good sleep?” He’d asked you both over a bowl of cereal, the smell of fresh coffee over taking the smoke from last night's fire. You flushed and Steve nodded, glaring at him. “Was there enough room for Jesus? Did he get squished? It’s really rude to squish Jesus, y’know.”

Neither you nor Steve answered, but the second night, you left even less room than the first. 

[toasttt11]

rainy day

It was one of the rare days that there was no friends over and it was only the Hughes family at their lake house, it was a pouring rain and thunder storming outside making them all stay inside for the day.

Carter was in her room cuddled in her bed reading a book before shutting her book close and tossing it down onto her bed, groaning she threw her head back as the pain in her stomach got worse. She threw her covers off her and shuffled out of her bed. Carter walked out of her room looking at the door that lead to the backyard seeing the pouring rain before walking down her hall and went to the stairs that lead to the basement.

The basement having a big couch and tv, the ping pong table, the pool table, Jack, Quinn, Luke’s rooms and the room they have with multiple bunk beds, Carter’s room is on the main floor and has one guest room next to her and the second floor is their parents room and the rest of the guest rooms.

Carter reached the end of the stairs seeing Jack laying on the couch and shuffled across the room towards him.

Jack looked up at the sound of shuffling and saw Carter looking miserable coming towards him, “Hey little bird.” Jack frowned knowing Carter’s period had been really rough yesterday and today, He opened up his arms and Carter flopped onto the couch right into his arms cuddling into his side. Jack quickly covered her with the extra blanket next to him.

Quinn walked out of his room down the hallway into the basement living room and saw Carter cuddling into Jack, he frowned figuring she’s still in pretty bad pain, he quietly walked back to his room where he had the spare heating pad and ibuprofen. He walked back to the living room sitting on the other side of Carter plugging the heating pad in and setting it on her legs gaining her attention.

“Hey Cart.” Quinn gently cooed wacthing her look at him with sad tired eyes, “Can you sit up slightly?” He showed the ibuprofen and she lifted her head taking the medicine with some water before resting her head back on Jack and tucking the heating pad under Luke’s umitch hoodie she has on.

Quinn layed down next to Carter gently undoing her braid and gently brushing his hands through her curls knowing it relaxes her.

Luke walked into the living room seeing his siblings cuddled up he walked over to the couch, the couch all the of them love because it’s more of giant bed with back pillows. He layed down in between Jack and Carter, resting his head on Jacks thigh and gently grabbing Carter’s hand gaining a squeeze in return.

The four siblings cuddled together on the couch for a long time just listening to the pouring rain and thunder outside until they all fell fast asleep.

Jim and Ellen walked down to the basement that was usally always loud but was completely silent and they saw all their kids cuddled up together. Ellen and Jim smiled, Ellen took a picture of her kids as Jim grabbed the other blankets on the back of the couch covering Luke with one and Quinn with the other.

Ellen and Jim shared a fond look before deciding to leave the siblings to alone to sleep

[eideticmemory]

THE HOUSE ON THE HILL | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

You and your husband are house hunting together! :) It sucks! :)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warning/Includes: Husband!Matthew, Dad!Matthew, HusbandYouCan’tStopBickeringWith!Matthew all with a happy ending.

Inflection points are real. When you open one of those cheesy books like Before You Tie the Knot and What to Expect When You’re Expecting, they all mention it. Cohabitation and marriage and children, they’re decisions in your life that take you down a completely different direction from which there is no coming back. And on top of this insurmountable and self-inflicted change is the subtle implication that these are the last decisions you will ever make on your own. Which…sucks, which is different, which takes some adjusting, but it’s never been this hard. It has never been so hard for you and Matthew to band together, put your pride aside, and work as a team to make everybody happy. But this isn’t about something small like marriage or children. This is about a house.

This is serious.

When Matthew said that he was willing to pack up everything and move from California to your home state, you were so happy that you could’ve vomited. Your entire body vibrated with excitement and gratitude and peace. You tore his clothes off right then and there, you were so happy. You were so happy that you were going home and that your daughter would grow up riding down the same streets, that she would never know what LA traffic was like and even more so happy that Matthew didn’t suggest Vegas. You love him, you hate the desert.

And it is with this excitement that you crawled into bed that same night and started scrolling on Zillow. Nuzzled into Matthew’s side, giggling, giddy. Your eyes landed on a house and you clicked it, asking, “What about this one?”

And at the same time, you exclaim, “It’s so cute!” Matthew scrunches his face, saying, “It’s terrible.”

You turn to look at each other, very slowly, making eye contact with just the tiniest bit of fear. But, that was just the first house. You both assumed that it would get easier. That there would be some homes you could heart and save for later. But that never happened.

It just got harder.

Because for whatever reason, four walls isn’t enough for Matthew. No, it’s got to be just like his little lodge with all the nooks and crannies and secret trap doors and stupid spiral stairs that you have slipped on at least three times in the past month. It’s not that you don’t love it here but it is abundantly clear that Bachelor Matthew bought this and it is perfect for Bachelor Matthew, maybe Married Matthew and his Married Wife, but now there’s toys everywhere and a play pen that takes up the entire living room and you do not find it as charming as when you first visited. Nor do you want another house just like it.

You like victorian houses. You like the creepy attics and the creaky floors, stained glass windows and narrow, wooden stairs. You find one on Zillow and you’re so excited to show Matthew, but instead of smiling or hell, even just pretending to show interest, he taps the screen and scoffs, “Four bedrooms?”

And you nearly slap him across the head but married people aren’t supposed to do that. So instead you suck in a slow breath and exhale, “Yes…four bedrooms. What’s wrong with that?”

“So, our room, Rory’s room, guest room and room for…what, one other kid?”

“Who…who is the other kid?”

“Our other kid. Our other kids. Where are they gonna sleep?”

You stutter, shake your head to rescramble your brain, “How many kids are you trying to have, Matthew?”

“Well, I was raised mormon so anywhere between ten to twenty is ideal,” he smirks.

“You being funny? You trying to be funny right now?”

“At least with five bedrooms, we could throw in bunk beds.”

You turn to leave and Matthew grabs your hand, pulling you back into him, “Wait, wait, wait, okay, okay, okay. I think…five bedrooms. Minimum.”

“Oh, are you sure that will be enough for our multiple litters?”

“[y/n],” he laughs.

“Matthew, this house is gorgeous. It’s old and well kept. It’s in a great area, the primary bedroom is stunning, they already have a nursery staged, and you haven’t bothered to look because…because, what? Because we might have ten million children? I mean, we won’t. But what the fuck?”

“It’s not speaking to me. We agreed the house should speak to both of us.”

“Oh, okay, well, let me translate. This house is saying…” you pick up your phone and wave it in his face, “Good luck with those other kids, Matthew. I wonder who you’ll have them with.”

“Oh, that’s funny,” he says as you storm off. “That’s hilarious.”

When he approaches later with a house of his own to show you, you’re patting Rory to sleep on your chest and it kind of annoys you when she wakes up to the sound of Matthew’s voice.

“Look at this one, babe,” he takes a seat beside you. “Five beds, five and a half baths, look,” and you sit quiet, let him scroll through, a subtle nod to the patience he lacks. But, still, quiet, your face says it all and he asks, “Why are you making that face?”

“It’s…” you glance at him. “Boring…”

“What? Boring? It looks like a castle.”

“On the outside…the inside is completely modern. And where…” you tap the screen, “Is it? Oh, no, I don’t want to live at the country club. My daughter will not get mowed down in the street because she was on the back of some corporate heir’s golf cart.”

Matthew tilts his head at you, his jaw dropped in genuine confusion.

“It happens!” you whisper.

“Babe…”

“It’s not speaking to me, Matthew, I’m sorry? What about you, Rory, huh? Is it speaking to you?” And your baby girl babbles, smiling, reaching out for Matthew and it makes him forget that you’re insane for a little bit. “I don’t think it’s speaking to her.”

Matthew takes her into his arms and holds her close, her head instantly falling on his shoulder. “This is about that tiny victorian house, isn’t it?” he asks you.

“Well…” you stand up. “It certainly wasn’t boring…not like you would know.”

“Okay, yeah, that’s fair…” he nods. “So…you do? Like this house, or…no?”

You roll your eyes and walk off, turning the baby’s sound machine on as you exit the room.

Immediately mediation is necessary. So the two of you decide to hire a realtor and poor Maci, there’s only so much she can do.

“Do you know what zipcode you’d prefer?”

“I personally love the downtown area or the northwest area?” you chime in. “Near the children’s museums and aquatic centers, y’know?”

Maci glances at Matthew but you’re quick to assure her, “Oh, he doesn’t know where anything is here. He’s western.”

And for some reason, that just sets him off? He furrows his eyebrows at you and says, “Well yeah…but I’ve been here plenty of times before.”

“Oh? You’ve visited? Did you grow up here?” you tilt your head at him. “Oh? No? Okay.”

Poor Maci, it was so uncomfortable. At this point, it’s her and Rory looking at each other to cut the tension. And she jots down all these must haves that the two of you fire at rapid speed. Like, for Matthew, it’s a three car garage and at this, you mutter, “Jesus…”

And he goes, “What could possibly be wrong with a three car garage?”

“Nothing! Nothing! We just…only have two, but whatever,” you shrug.

Like, you’d prefer an all brick house and at this Matthew scoffs.

“Oh, you want the wind to blow it down?” you snip.

“Ah yes, the only possible housing options…brick, plastic and straw.”

“There’s nothing wrong with an all brick house. It looks better.”

“So you say.”

“So it is,” you snap, tilt your head at him.

“I’m gonna take Rory outside for a bit,” he stands from his chair.

“Oh, good. Try to find a third car while you’re out there,” and the door shuts behind him.

Maci lets out a tense breath and you smile shyly at her, “So…yeah, brick. Let’s go with brick.”

By the time you get back to your hotel, Rory’s tired and full enough to fall right asleep in her pack and play and it’s perfectly quiet because Matthew hasn’t said a word to you.

“So,” you grumble. “You’re just…not gonna talk to me…forever? You don’t like me anymore?”

“You embarrassed the hell out of me in front of that lady.”

“Ditto.”

“Okay, well, I need you to be okay with me disagreeing with you sometimes. It doesn’t mean I don’t like you. I love you!”

And he says this with so much conviction that you feel your guard drop. “You love me?”

His face softens, “Yes…c’mon. Be serious. I love you more than anything. You’re just…ugh,” he pushes his hair back. “Easy to disagree with.”

Guard: back up. “Easy to disagree with?” you repeat after him, ennuciating every word. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” he shrugs. “Exactly that.”

You stand there dumbfounded for a moment and can’t even look directly at him as you say, “Yeah, don’t talk to me anymore.”

He gives you the most passive aggressive thumbs up to ever exist, “Sounds good.”

You take a nice, long, long shower and when you come out of the bathroom, Matthew and Rory are watching Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood on the TV. They give you the exact same look when their heads whip around, definitely related, definitely happy to see you. Her tiny hands reach out for you and Matthew, with his face neutral, lifts the blanket to let you in. You crawl into bed and land in the crook of his arm because that’s your spot. Your head falls on his chest and it’s okay because, technically, he’s not speaking to you.

Maci lines up exactly five houses for you to tour on your next visit. She figures, surely, one must be a common ground. Out of them all, the right one must be there.

Poor Maci.

Two zipcodes. Brick. Plaster. Grand great rooms. Kitchen islands, sometimes two. Libraries. Bay windows. Basements. Each house sings its own special song. Some, you hear clear as day, calling you home. They speak to you. They don’t speak to your husband. Unfortunately, that matters.

In the last house, you follow Maci around until the dreaded, “what do ya’ think?” question in the kitchen.

“I love it,” Matthew grins. And that grin sinks when he sees the pout on your lips. Your arms across your chest. “[y/n] doesn’t.”

“Oh, don’t speak for me,” you roll your eyes.

“But you don’t like it, though.”

“It’s…boring.”

“Okay,” he sighs. He can’t hear you say that one more time. “Babe, no one knows what that means.”

“Um, I think Maci knows, soooo must just be you.”

The glare you two give each other, on either side of this luxury island, is intense enough to make the entire 3,000 square feet house feel small. Very, very small.

Rory is with your parents and without her, the drive back to the hotel is very quiet. Very tense. Matthew rushes into the bathroom as soon as he can and you plop down on the bed with a heavy sigh. When he emerges from the bathroom, he’s shirtless and pouting and moody and broody and you can feel it. You can see it in the way he stomps around and rummages through his suitcase.

He says, “So,” without turning to you. “Not one winner today?”

“Ugh!” It flies out of your mouth before you can contain it. You literally pull at your hair in frustration and Matthew watches with his mouth agape. You rip your shirt off your body and the cool air from the fan hits you immediately. Now you’re both shirtless and pouting and moody and broody. You don’t need to talk about it.

“Do we have to discuss it right now or can we postpone for like…an hour or so?” you ask. You insist. You are begging, tilting your head at him.

And his first thought is: no way she’s trying to fuck me right now? But you are. He can see it in your eyes and the way they lower as he walks over to you. Your hands plant themselves on his waist and you lean into his touch as his palm engulfs your cheek.

“Make it two hours?” he runs his thumb along your lip.

You shrug, running your hands up his waist, “Make it as long as you’d like.”

He nods, “Okay,” and pushes you back onto the bed where you land with a quiet ‘oof!’ before he crawls on top of you.

It kills a lot of time. Lot of tension to work out.

Your body is relaxed like never before as you lay there naked against his chest, with his lips peppering soft kisses on your sweaty shoulder. As you catch your breath, it’s the most comforting silence you’ve shared in a while.

You touch his lips and he kisses your fingertips, holds your wrist in his grasp. “Not one winner, huh?” he whispers, holding to catch you at peace.

“Mm-mm,” you shake your head and cover his mouth. “Not yet.”

He nods, nibbles on your wrist, “Fair enough.”

Your both in such a good mood when you go to pick up Rory. She crawls over to you at lightning speed and babbles excitedly and you coo over her like you’ve never met her before. You missed her.

And this joy is misinterpreted in a way that someone says, “You two are happy, did you find a house?” so your smiles drop.

“No,” you say in unison.

As Maci embarks on her next hunt, she’s opted for sending you virtual tours. She sends them in groups of four at a time and they are very useful. You can lay in bed, curled into Matthew’s side as he clicks around on his laptop and the serenity of it makes it harder to bicker.

Doesn’t make any of the houses suck any less, though. Doesn’t stop the annoyed sighs and smacking of teeth and the abrupt ‘whatevers’ to change the subject and the screen.

The very last of the bunch, you have your hopes up. The exterior is promising. The number of bedrooms, bathrooms. Matthew opens the view of the entryway and you just stand up, “I’m done. I’m going to shower. Goodnight.” And he, just as disappointed, shuts the laptop quickly.

It was nice to at least be on the same page with that one.

And poor Maci, she’s trying so hard. The two of you are stressing her out, but it’s hard to say what the outcome would be without a realtor equally as stubborn. Because when she thinks - no. When she knows she’s found the one, she calls your phone at midnight and leaves a voicemail saying - I am so sorry to call you so late but there is a house and I want you and Matthew to come see it as soon as possible. [pause] How soon can that be?

It’s soon. You make the trip back out there but it is done with very little enthusiam or optimism. You suspect that Maci knows this and she’s opting for suspense to lure you in. This is a blind viewing. She’s driving. You just have to wait and see.

“The country club?” is your first impression as she drives you into the neighborhood.

“Is this not one of the zipcodes you picked?” Matthew asks you and you roll your eyes.

“Yes. It is, I’m just making an observation. Damn.”

“You can opt in or out of being a member at the club,” Maci chimes in. “Completely voluntary.”

“Is this where we’re gonna live, Maci?” Matthew laughs.

“I think so,” she nods. “I really think so.”

Because all you and Matthew wanted was to know. To not have to think, but to see it and know. To see a house that was, at first sight, yours. To know.

And when you slowed down upon the house on the hill, you both knew. You both gasped. You looked at each other.

The driveway is gated and is almost like a rollercoaster up the hill. This rollercoaster ends at nothing other than a three car garage on an all brick house. Brick stairs leading the front door which lead to an entryway where you feel it. You know, with one step on the hardwood floor, this house is yours.

Maci goes into full tour mode, “So this is the foyer and all you walk in, you have your formal dining room on the left…” and you are holding Matthew’s hand. You are holding his hand and wrapped around his arm and the two of you are walking and staring at this house and Maci’s voice just sounds like “blah blah blah blah blah…”

There’s two islands in the kitchen. A large sunroom right beside it that gives entry to the lush backyard. A center fireplace in the living room. Built in bookshelves. A guest room, a guest bathroom.

It all just flows.

The main bedroom is upstairs and it has two closets. You nearly faint in each other’s arms - two whole closets!

There’s 4 additional bedrooms on the upper floor and so, yes, should it be that you have multiple litters of children, there’s room. Just in case.

Way below is the basement where there’s not only plenty of room to lounge but a full wet bar lined with green tile and neon lights lining the walls. You exit the basement and plant your feet in the driveway, coming full circle to Maci’s car. She turns to you both, her smile as wide as yours.

“So?” she asks anxiously.

You look at your husband and he’s already looking at you. “Speaking to you?” he grins.

“Yelling at me,” you laugh.

He giggles and can’t help but kiss your cheek. He turns to Maci and nods, “You were right. This is it.”

The paperwork and red tape is the last of the bullshit and that itself feels very short in comparison to the past few months. It’s the easiest. It’s the happiest. So far. By the time the two of you are alone in your car, you take a full minute to breathe. Then you look at each other and the words come rushing out.

“Is it really over?” you ask.

“It’s really over.”

“I love it. Do you love it?”

“I love it!”

“Me, too! Aw, I wish Rory had been there. I wish she had seen it.”

“She’ll see it. She’ll love it.”

“She will!”

And with the sweetest laugh ever, Matthew grabs your face and kisses you. You’re giggling so much that it’s not a true, proper kiss but it does its job. You get the message.

“Do you know what this means?” he says.

“Yes, now I won’t have to smother you in your sleep.”

“No no, you’ve still got plenty of time for that. Besides that, do you know what this means?”

You chuckle, kiss his nose, “What?”

“Furniture shopping!” He cheers.

You gasp, you tear yourself away from him just to buckle your seat belt. “Oh, my god. You’re so right. So true.”

He laughs as he buckles himself in, holding your hand in his, kissing your knuckles. He asks, “Are we friends again?” with a pout on his face and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

You bring his hand to your face and kiss his knuckles in return, “Best friends.”

[2nd2ndalto]

I have a headcanon that all the demigod kids routinely end up in each others beds/cabins at night, because nightmares and trauma and whatnot. So I wrote this smol fic.

~~~~~

There Is Rest and There's You

The first time Nico sees Annabeth leaving the Poseidon cabin at an ungodly early hour (having been dragged from his warm bed by Leo and Jason for an ungodly early errand), he flushes, quickly looking away. Because it's obvious, even to him, that she’d spent the night. But Annabeth merely sleepily raises a hand in greeting and continues on her way back to her own cabin.

Jason, maybe noticing Nico’s discomfort, simply shrugs. “Musical cabins,” he explains. “Happens a lot.”

Leo nods in agreement. “Yep. I had some really wicked nightmares last week, three nights running. I ended up on Jason’s floor. Would have been in the bed, but Piper got there first,” he adds, disgruntled.

Huh, Nico thinks. Musical cabins. That's a little weird.

After that, he pays more attention. It’s not unusual, as it turns out, to find the Apollo cabin overstuffed with various campers early in the morning, rivalling even the occupancy of the Hermes cabin. Sometimes it’s couples tucked in together, but more often it’s friends, siblings. Seeking comfort, and sleep.

It's six months into Nico's stay at Camp when he begins forgetting to lock the door to Cabin Thirteen. He nearly runs Harley through with his sword the first night he finds the younger boy fast asleep in his cabin. But after that, it quickly becomes routine to wake to the quiet comfort of someone else’s soft snoring across the darkened room. Most often it's Will, brushing a warm hand over Nico's forehead before settling into the other bed, but sometimes it's Harley, and several times Leo, complaining that Jason’s bed was already full.

It’s a little weird, but surprisingly nice. Nico begins leaving his door unlocked most of the time.

On a night late in February, the nightmares are worse than usual. Nico wakes in a cold sweat, heart pounding, tears welling behind his eyelids. He does what he usually does - dresses quickly, and walks. There’s something meditative about the rhythm of his boots on the ground and the sharp, cold air on his skin that usually settles him.

But the thing is, it’s really cold. And after only about half an hour he finds himself standing in the central green, torn. He can't feel his toes, but he can’t quite stomach the thought of returning to his own empty cabin, either.

His frozen feet lead him up the stairs to Cabin Seven. And gods, it’s warm inside.

There’s a soft rustle of blankets from Will’s bunk.

“Nico?” Will’s voice is soft and scratchy. “What’s wrong?”

The taller boy is out of bed and across the cabin in a heartbeat, reaching for Nico’s hand. Scanning him, Nico knows, blue eyes wide with worry.

Nico shakes his head. “I’m fine. Just - couldn’t sleep,” he murmurs, and the concern on Will’s face fades to sympathy.

“The bunk above mine is empty,” he says simply.

And that’s that. Nico climbs up, snuggles in. Will’s messy blond bedhead pops over the edge of the bunk, his smile fond. He squeezes Nico’s arm. “Sleep tight.” And then he disappears.

Nico worries it might be awkward, in the daylight. It’s anything but. The Apollo cabin is a riot of sound and motion in the morning. Austin flings a stuffed turtle at Nico's head. Nico's foot is hanging off the edge of the bunk, and Kayla tickles it, cackling when he squeaks.

“Breakfast time, sleepyhead,” she chirps.

“Sleep well?” Will asks as Nico climbs back down.

And the thing is, he really did.

Time passes. The nightmares wax and wane, but they get easier, mostly.

Until one night in July. It’s almost a year to the day since he came to stay at Camp - Nico thinks, later, maybe that’s why the nightmares hit particularly hard. He wakes shaking, gasping for air, convinced he’s fading again, permanently this time. It scares him so much more than it did when it was actually happening. He shoves his hands against the wood of his headboard, hard, positive they’re going to slip right through. They don’t, but he can't shake the panic.

Nico’s up and out the door in the space of a breath, no hesitation as he makes a beeline, barefoot, for Cabin Seven. The air is cool for July, the full moon shining bright above.

He can feel his panic ease the second he closes the door behind him, soothed by a quiet symphony of soft breathing.

But the bunk above Will’s is occupied tonight, and as Nico's eyes adjust, he realizes all the others are, too.

“Nico?” Will’s voice is a whisper. “Nightmare?” He sits up, silhouetted in moonlight.

“Yeah.” Nico steps closer. “Looks like you’re all full in here, though. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turns to leave, but Will grabs his arm. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. You go back to sleep.”

Will gazes at him in the dark, fingers still wrapped around Nico’s wrist. “Or you could stay. Here.”

“There’s no room, though.”

“I have room,” Will whispers.

Nico blinks at Will’s bunk, then back at Will, his stomach attempting to leap into his throat. Will’s eyes are wide, nervous.

“I... um -” Nico begins. He can feel his face heating at the thought of it.

“Gods, di Angelo, just stop talking and get into his bed. Literally no one cares,” Kayla grumbles from the next bunk over. There appears to be at least one Demeter kid in her bed. Maybe two.

Will’s fighting a grin now and he shrugs. Nico shrugs back, then… climbs into the bed. Will scoots over to make room, pulling the blankets over them both. And gods it’s warm, and it smells like Will, and when nothing else calms him, that always does.

Nico lets his eyes close. Then -

“Do - do I feel like I’m fading?” he asks in a whisper, echoes of the nightmare flashing behind his closed eyelids.

Will gazes at him. Then he reaches for Nico’s hand.

“No,” Will whispers. Someone clears their throat nearby and Will grimaces, yanking the blankets over their heads.

“Did something happen?” he asks, his breath brushing Nico’s face.

“No, just - nightmare."

Will nods in understanding. “No. You’re good,” he smiles. He goes to pull the blankets back down, then seems to reconsider.

“That’s um… that’s usually why I end up in your cabin. At night.” he admits, quiet. “Sometimes... I just need to make sure that you’re still solid.”

Nico stomach flip-flops. "Oh."

Will shrugs, sheepish. He pulls the blankets back down, settling on his side. "Here," he says, reaching for Nico's hand again. "Then neither of us has to worry." He tangles their fingers together, reaching out to lay his other hand on Nico's arm, tethering him.

Will's soft smile in the dark is dazzling, and his hands are warm, and Nico worries his own answering smile might just light up the entire cabin.

When he wakes hours later to the familiar sounds of chaos, his head tucked against Will's shoulder, Will's face buried in his hair, well. He thinks maybe this musical cabins thing isn't so bad after all.

Notes

This is a short one! I tried to challenge myself to write something coherent in 1000 words or less. I almost managed it.

It is also my personal headcanon that Harley kind of attaches himself to Nico & sees him as a big brother. This comes up in something else I'm working on as well.

I would love to hear your related headcanons! Snuggly demigods! Sleeping in heaps like puppies!

Jason may not come up much in my fics but please rest assured he is Always Alive.

[captainremmington-13]

𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖋 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖔𝖓𝖊

show!Luke Castellan x daughter of thanatos!reader

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own the image above or any of Rick Riordan’s characters/world-building.

⚠️Warnings⚠️: mentions of death, sadness, and lonliness

A/N: the next part is gonna include capture the flag ;))

As soon as you heard the yelling, you were certain that someone had died. 

The sensation that washed over your body confirmed your suspicions. Your powers always told you when a being was truly dead and beyond saving. However, this time, it felt slightly different. The being’s life had been halted, but not ended. They were no longer aging, but their soul remained in their body. 

Putting down the blanket you were folding, you slipped on a pair of worn-down sneakers and left Cabin 11. Walking down the stairs, you internally hoped the scene wasn’t too gory. Even if you were the child of death itself, you weren’t a fan of seeing people mutilated.

Just by listening for a moment, you could tell that the chaos was occurring at the border of the camp. Putting two and two together, you realized a new camper must have arrived. You’d seen several demigods try to get inside the safety of the camp border’s, and lose their lives in the process.  

But as you approached the hill where several other demigods were crowded together, you saw two kids who were very much alive. The more baffling sight, however, was the large pine tree at the highest point of the hill that definitely hadn’t been there before. 

You tapped Will Solace on the arm, making him jump slightly. Ignoring his reaction, you asked, “What in Hades is going on? Where did that tree come from?”

“Uh…” Will said, scratching the back of his neck. “Three demigods and a satyr were being chased by monsters as they approached the camp border. One of the demigods, a daughter of Zeus, sacrificed herself to let the others get to safety. It seems that instead of letting her die or saving her, Zeus turned her into…” He gestured at the tree. “That.”

Typical god behavior. When they try to help their offspring, they only make their lives worse.

“That’s unfortunate,” you said to Will. “I don’t think there’s much we can do.”

“Yeah,” Will replied awkwardly. “Try not to worry about it. We’ll get the two new campers settled into Cabin 11 as soon as we can. You can meet them then.” 

Understanding that he wanted to end the conversation, you simply nodded and walked away. You had learned to recognize the signs that signaled when people no longer wanted to be in your presence, and Will was exhibiting several of them.

But that was alright. You didn’t really feel like sticking around anyways. You were your own best companion. 

________________________________________________

“Hey, uh, is the top bunk taken?“ 

You looked up from painting your nails to see a boy standing in front of you. He had curly brown hair, a lean figure, and brown eyes that had a mischievous glint in them. He was holding a small backpack, which likely contained all of his personal possessions. 

“That’s Kalia’s bunk. You can take that spot over there.” You pointed to a twin-sized mattress squished in between two bunk beds. 

“Oh…okay.” The boy set his backpack down on the mattress and sat down next to it. “So, are you…you know, a Hermes kid too?”

You laughed without humor. “Do I look like one of Hermes’s spawn?” 

The boy flinched. “No.” 

“You have your answer then.”

He sighed. “I suppose it’s for the better that he’s not your father. He’s completely neglected me all my life.”

“All of the gods do that to their demigod offspring,” you said. “Except for a rare few. And even then, the most their children get are occasional visits and favors. Some of the gods choose favorites, which causes chaos here at camp.” 

The boy nodded in acknowledgement. “That seems frustrating.”

“It is.”

“So…if you’re not one of Hermes’s children, are you unclaimed?”

You shook your head. “No. My father just doesn’t have a cabin, so I’m stuck here.”

“And who exactly is your father?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, knowing that your answer will probably scare the boy off. But you decided to be honest. If he can’t handle the truth, that’s his problem. 

“Thanatos, god of death.” 

Instead of going pale and quickly looking away, the boy gave you a small smile. “Cool.” He stood up again, walking over to your bunk once more. He extended his hand.

“I’m Luke. Luke Castellan.”

As you shook his hand firmly and told him your name, a genuine feeling of warmth grew in your chest. 

Maybe, just maybe, you’d found someone who didn’t treat you like a walking time bomb.

________________________________________________

You took it upon yourself to show Luke around camp the next day. This shocked everyone, as you usually didn’t converse with anyone for more than a few minutes at a time. You and him spent the entire day together, and even ate dinner side-by-side at the Hermes table. It was the most time you’d spent with just one person in ages.

You explained to him the unspoken rules of the camp. In order to prevent being messed with, you had to prove that you were worthy. Glory was extremely important, and could be earned by winning Capture the Flag or going on quests. And protecting your cabin’s honor was of top priority. If another cabin somehow slandered yours, you had the right to retaliate (even though Chiron and Mr. D didn’t approve).

The more you interacted with Luke, the more you liked him. 

Luke adapted to his new environment extremely well. He quickly established a reputation as an excellent strategist and seasoned fighter.  Apparently, he had been on the run since he was nine, and picked up a myriad of skills along the way. He was particularly good at picking locks, which wasn’t surprising. 

He also made friends quickly. His charming personality drew in every person he interacted with. He was witty, ambitious, and made good conversation. Plus, his impressive abilities made him a useful ally. 

After he settled in, you expected him to forget about you. He had more popular, less terrifying companions. 

But he didn’t. In fact, he became your closest friend. 

Despite being different in a variety of ways, your personalities blended like a dream. He appreciated your dry, subtle sense of humor, and encouraged you to always keep improving. And you admired his mischievous nature. He’d even gotten you to lighten up a bit, and become less adverse to participating in group activities.

You slowly learned more about him, and he learned about you. You both assumed it would scare the other person off, but that knowledge only brought you closer together. 

But most importantly, you both quickly learned that together, you were essentially unstoppable. 

taglist: @orionspaperwork

Thank you for reading! Pls let me know what you think in the comments!!! I have some rly fun ideas for upcoming chapters, so stay tuned!😊

Let me know in the comments if you want to be added to the taglist!

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Friday

Prev

Trespasser, In Which Jak Gets Another Bad Idea

When he'd hastily redressed and stumbled out of the garrison locker room before anything else could happen, Jak quickly found himself confronted by that Strom guy again.

"An hour? Really?" Strom pursed his lips disapprovingly. "You think we have some magic supply of water to spare?"

"Lay off, we weren't washing for an hour -- much as I'd love to," Daxter argued, "The big guy fell asleep!"

"In the shower? Isn't that dangerous?"

Jak shrugged. "How would I know?"

Strom decided after a moment that this fell under the category of "none of my business". He sighed and waved for Jak to follow him.

"The king says we're to put you up in the barracks for now." He eyed Jak's face, somewhat startled by how much younger he looked under the dirt. "How old are you?"

Jak shrugged. "Midway through seventeen-ish. I think. My "guardian" wasn't exactly a reliable source."

More things to file under "none of my business"

"Oh...kay..." Strom did his best to move past one or two odd questions surfacing in his mind. "Well that narrows down which dorm you're in, at least."

"How so?"

They stepped back out into the late afternoon heat, onto the main road through the Gate District. The burning sun barely touched Jak, deflected by his wet clothes as if he were wearing his own air conditioning. He decided to pretend it had been intentional. Just in case someone asked why his clothes were all wet.

They were led towards the end of a row of houses built into the city wall, leading to an impressibly high flight of stairs into some kind of coliseum. Strom did his best to explain as he led them up the stairs, but he wasn't usually the guy they called for rookie orientation for a reason.

"It's um. So- okay look. The Arena sublevels are divided into three floors: the hospital, the armory, and the barracks. Barracks are split between militia, citizen candidates, and teenage Squads."

He didn't explain Squads.

"You're going to end up in that last one -- probably Dorm 4, that's where they put orphans or unregistered foundlings."

"Orphans?!" Daxter chirped indignantly. Then he paused. "I mean. I guess it's accurate, but you didn't have to say it!"

They didn't end up in Dorm 4.

The Resident Advisor took one look at the slightly dusty, slightly soggy, boy and ottsel and assigned them to an empty bunk in the second hall, Dorm 2. Jak was handed a canteen and a folded set of sheets before being unceremoniously ushered down the hall and into a sparse dorm room holding two bunk beds. For the moment, it was empty.

"Lights are out at 9 bells, no exceptions unless you got a case of the screaming meemies," the RA said gruffly. He pointed at a bottom bunk without sheets -- Jak's, apparently.

"You're responsible for keeping that bunk at least clean enough to pass weekly room checks. Check the schedule on the wall if you want to know when mess hall is open. If you miss that, you can hit the markets, but you're on your own for paying for it."

Jak eyed the bunk uncomfortably. He was responsible for maintaining this bed? He probably wasn't even going to be here that long! He cringed when the RA pushed a twelve by six metal box across the floor with a terrible scratching sound.

"That's your footlocker. If you want a lock, get it yourself. You kids keep losin' em and now we're out." The RA snorted. "But most of the squad in your room is on home rotation this week, so you only have to worry about maybe Sam stealing your stuff. He won't, by the way. Too busy training."

He turned to go, then turned back quickly. "Oh. Gotta confiscate your gun mods, so don't lose your marbles when you get your gun back plain."

"The rot you do!" Jak protested, "I earned those!"

"Don't care." The RA shrugged. "None of your dormmates have and I don't want 'em getting ideas about "borrowing" em."

With a stern warning not to start any fights, and to not miss allotted mealtimes if he didn't want to go hungry, the RA keft Jak alone with Daxter. They stood in the center of the room, blinking incredulously.

"Well..." Jak said after several seconds, "It's not a cell."

"Or an alley," Daxter agreed.

He hopped down and examined the mattress. Nothing fancy, but it was miles better than they were used to.

"Here, gimme the fitted sheet."

"What's a fitted sheet?"

"The one with the stretchy corners." Daxter pointed. "That's the one that goes on the bottom. Wraps around so it don't get pulled off if you roll around a lot."

"...oh. Weird."

Jak handed the thing to Daxter and watched in fascination as his friend set about attaching one corner at a time. It looked difficult.

Before he could offer help, his talk-box activated. That was a bit of a surprise. They'd been traveling for two days already and nobody had made a peep. Daxter had thought they'd have noticed the first time he turned off the location tracker!

"Jak! Jak, where are you?!"

Samos. Jak's stomach churned.

"Don't know," he answered flippantly. "I think we just got put in an orphanage."

"Don't be ridiculous! Get out of whatever nonsense you two knuckleheads have walked into and get back to Main Town! Something is going on, and I need time to investigate without those blasted Deathbots shooting at me!"

"Life's hard."

"What did you just say?"

Jak scoffed, feeling a little of the bubbling anger of dark eco in his core.

"You can't handle a little gunfire? You didn't have an issue making a couple kids walk into it daily. You'll figure it out."

"How can you say something so horrible to me?! I raised you to be a hero, Jak! You sound like that mercenary!"

Jak snorted."Well good. Sig's the only adult in that city I still trust."

Samos sputtered for several seconds in helpless, bewildered anger. Then he gathered himself.

"Get over yourself, Jak! Lives are at stake! I don't care what you're playing at, you turn around and get back here before something worse happens!"

Jak rolled his eyes. The sage sounded like Ashelin. He tossed Daxter the top sheet and studied the foot locker, wondering if he should use it.

"Nah, can't."

"What do you mean "can't?"

Jak shrugged as if Samos could see him. As if Daxter hadn't placed a piece of tape over the lens when he got tired of the spying.

"Oracle says I'm not done out here. Wherever "here" is. Lay off, wouldja? The Precursors sent me out here!"

He listened to Samos's stunned silence a moment before dryly asking, "Did you think they only spoke to Onin, or-?"

"But-" the old sage stammered, "But why would the Precursors send you from us when our need was greatest?"

"Probably because yours isn't the only city in the world? There are other people out there, Haven can get over itself," Jak flung the sage's words right back at him.

"What makes you think there's anything beyond the walls other than ruined wastes?"

"Those eco shipments for Praxis were coming from somewhere," Jak reasoned. Then his voice darkened to match his mood.

"There's no law that says I can't investigate. Sandover may have turned into Haven, but that doesn't mean I'm chained to it. You people already tried that, remember?"

"Jak!"

"I think the Precursors want me to find out who else survived," Jak said, though he wasn't sure that was it at all.

"I'll let you know if I find any sages."

"But Jak-!"

"Have to go, Samos. That hall monitor guy didn't say comm calls weren't allowed in the dorms but I need this thing, so I'm not taking chances."

He ended the call before Samos could make more than an outraged cough. When he looked down, Daxter was watching him with a funny expression.

"What?" he asked, a bit defensively.

"Nothin," Daxter said, unconvincingly. Then he gave a bittersweet grin. "Just never heard you stand up to Loghead like that before."

Jak looked away. "Should've been fighting him from day one. Like you. You knew he was bad news from the start, didn't you?"

Daxter rubbed his arm ruefully. "I um. I don't got a lot of memories of my folks. I was pretty little when the shark got em. But I remember my old man saying "Never trust a man who won't apologize to a kid", and then Samos came through dragging you. An'...an' you cried that whole first day, kept pointing to the sky and making a circle with your arms. And Samos ignored you."

Jak swallowed hard. "I don't remember that," he said softly. "Or much of Sandover at all now."

He sat down on the floor next to Daxter. The thanks he'd given Samos just weeks ago sat sour in his stomach. The real person he should've thanked had been right there beside him and he'd overlooked him just like Samos always did.

"Daxter?" he said gravely, "Thank you. For everything. All of it. I wouldn't be here without you."

Daxter leaned against his shoulder. "Well duh," he joked, trying to lighten a somber moment, "Heroes don't leave their sidekicks with weirdos! It goes against the bro code!"

Then he sobered.

"For the record, I don't blame ya for not knowing he had his hooks in ya. He um. I mean, you were real little, y'know? I think you maybe stuck with him at first because he was the only familiar face, and he used that against ya."

Jak laughed bitterly. "I wonder if I'd have had the guts to say all that if he was actually here?"

Daxter recognized the beginning of a spiral and elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"Well he ain't! And we're not gonna will that into existence with what-ifs!"

He scurried up onto the bunk and spread out in the middle of the mattress.

"Ahhhh! Hey, are you gonna know which morph gun is ours when we get the key to that gun locker?"

Jak pushed him to one side and, after a moment's debate, unlaced his boots.

"The stock on mine looks striped because of all the tally marks on it. The others are completely blank."

"Oh! Didn't see that!"

Reluctantly, Jak took off his goggles and gauntlets and dropped them into the foot locker. At least if it didn't have a lock, he could get them back out at a moment's notice. His knife and amulet he kept on him.

The Call hadn't subsided. He still felt it, and he still didn't know what it meant. So for now, that seemed to mean staying in this hostel/barrack/orphanage combination with more Wastelanders than he'd ever known existed. At least they were Wastelanders and not soldiers. He would've slept on the streets before letting them put him in a dorm with soldiers.

The wall schedule said that the cafeteria didn't open until 6 bells after noon. That left roughly an hour before they could find out if they were allowed to take anything from it.

For a time, Jak occupied himself by polishing his channeling ring with his damp scarf. Daxter tried and failed to braid Jak's hair, but the condition it was in was just too poor.

"Pal," Daxter said reluctantly, "I don't think these mats are comin' out."

Jak sighed in resignation. He'd wanted to avoid this -- the only haircut he could remember had been a traumatic buzzcut because a KG accidentally spread bugs through the cell block -- and got himself a spot in the cell two doors down from Jak when the bugs spread to Errol. (Who was absolutely hideous with a buzz cut, and was in utter anguish about his "beautiful hair". Couldn't have happened to a nicer person. It had been the absolute highlight of Jak's entire year.)

Jak took his knife, sheath and all, from the back of his belt and held it out to Daxter.

"Do what you gotta do," he groaned, "Just don't cut it all off."

The roommate who wasn't on "home rotation", whatever that was, came back midway through the haircut. In his state of exhaustion, he didn't actually see Daxter.

"Your...hair is falling off," he mumbled in confusion.

"It's on purpose," Jak said.

"Oh."

Sam leaned against the door to pry off his boots, then blinked.

"Wait, what?"

"He's getting a haircut, doofus!" Daxter sniped.

"Ohhhhkay, the kangarat is talking." Sam dropped his boot and stared with very wide eyes. "Cooooolll coolcoolcool everything's cool."

"Ottsel, not rat," Jak corrected. "Daxter is sensitive about that."

"...uh-huh..."

Sam swung a gear bag up over the top of the top bunk bed post. With little effort, he swung himself up the ladder after it. Apparently he shared the bunk Jak had been assigned.

"Are you new? I don't remember you," he yawned.

"First day here," Jak admitted, "still dunno what's going on."

Silence for a few seconds. Then, "So...does that mean you came from Outside?"

"I guess? Don't know how I got here from Haven, but I'm not complaining."

"Oh."

Sudden Sam was leaning over the rail of the bunk, spiky blonde hair falling in his face.

"No kidding? Me too! I mean, I ran away from Kras, but. Stowed away on a cargo ship and got caught at the docks."

Kras. The name was familiar. Something to do with racing, but Jak hadn't been paying attention.

"So you planning on the Arena too?" asked Sam.

"I still don't know what the Arena is," Jak said pointedly. "Is it for races?"

"See, that's what I thought at first!" Sam exclaimed, "But apparently the only races they do in there are Leapers. It's kinda a community place? Big meetings, festivals, executions, games, theater, combat trials-"

"Festivals?" Jak was mildly intrigued.

"Executions?!" Daxter was not.

"Yeah man. Though to be fair, there's so many ways to die normally outside the walls that it takes a lot to get the death sentence around here. You have to do something really bad for Lord Damas to kill you himself. Like "engaged in the slave trade" or "abused a kid" or "betrayed the city to enemies" kind of bad. Stuff that dishonors a warrior's name for life. Otherwise he gives you a chance for pardon in combat trials."

Jak squinted up at their temporary roommate. "How...does that work, exactly?"

Sam rolled back onto his mattress with a noncommittal sound.

"Depends on whatcha did I think. Smaller offenses you gotta fight a metalhead. Bigger offenses get you more than one metalhead. If it's bad but not death sentence bad, you fight other Wastelanders who already know how you fight."

"Remind me not to get on these guys' bad sides," Daxter stage-whispered.

"So then why would I enter the Arena if I didn't do anything wrong?" Jak pushed.

"Oh yeah, that's the other thing. Civvy candidates who want to be permanent residents gotta prove they can survive the three main dangers of the Wasteland: enemy shooters, treacherous terrain, and lava. So the king makes us do combat trials simulating those conditions until he's satisfied that we won't like. Immediately die if he lets us outside."

Jak considered this for a moment.

"Fair enough," he decided.

"No??? It's not??" Daxter finished slicing off the last mat and gave Jak an appalled look. "Precisely none of that is normal!"

Jak swept the clumps of hair onto the floor and leaned back to let Daxter continue braiding what was left.

"So...you prove you can handle yourself, and they let you stay?"

Sam reappeared over the rail. "Well, you also gotta prove you're willing to work. They don't like lazy people out here, everybody does at least one thing that keeps Spargus operational, even if it's just sweeping the sand out of the stables -- which is about all they let me do on account of last time-"

"What happened last time?" Daxter asked as he finished tying off three fishbone-braids.

They could almost hear the wince.

"I...kind of...failed so hard at wall patching that I dropped an entire bucket of wet clay on a district representative. He got a concussion. It was bad."

There was a chagrined silence, but then Sam rallied. "So yeah, I'm not allowed near construction equipment anymore and I can't switch chores yet. All kids get maximum one job a day, but you get to pick what you do once you either turn nineteen, or get through the third trial."

Wheels were beginning to turn in Jak’s mind. He'd never given much thought to the future, but what if he just. Didn't go back to Haven? What if the crisis ended and he didn't go back? Might be nice to have a place like this on standby.

"So that what the grouch-in-chief said you're training for?" Daxter asked.

"Yep! Already got my first amulet and gun mod!" Sam said cheerfully. "First full trial hurts like a son-of-a-cob, but at least Scatter rounds are non-lethal."

"No they're not?" Jak sputtered.

"Yes they are?" Sam wrinkled his nose. "Scatterguns are what they give kids and civvy candidates because it's not live ammo?"

"No," Jak argued, "You can definitely kill with Scatter rounds. It just takes like six shots."

Sam stared at him with wide eyes.

"What the rot, dude," he whispered.

"What?!"

"You're telling me you've killed people with a practice gun?!"

"Well- well Haven doesn't know they're practice guns!" Jak defended.

"Okay..." Sam grimaced. "Well. Don't do that in your first trial. Only way anyone is supposed to be able to die is if they try to prioritize hunting an opponent over avoiding lava."

"None of this is making me want to try this Arena thing!" Daxter complained.

"What's the second trial?" Jak ignored Daxter's complaints.

Sam looked a little unsure suddenly. "Yellow eco trial. That's um. That's going to be my first combat to the death. And not many candidates signed up for this month's trial so it's just me and three others against a Marauder crew they captured."

"Marauders?"

"Colonists from the mainland," Sam explained. "They're wannabe Wastelanders and I'm pretty sure they're all insane because they run around out there with no shirts, ever. They also run most of the slave trade between Haven and their colony."

Jak's eyes darkened.

"They're slavers?"

"Yep." Sam shuddered. "I've seen some of the survivors brought back when the Wastelanders raid their camps or when Marauder defectors start a riot. They've been through it. And like half the Arena Guard are survivors of the Marauders, so the ring isn't where you wanna end up if you're a blood merchant."

"It's not the guards they should worry about," Jak muttered darkly. Before Sam could ask what he meant, he looked up. "So if you get through three trials, then what?"

"Full rights as a citizen, same as if you were born here."

There was a glint in Jak’s eyes that only Daxter could see, and it Concerned him.

"Ja-aak, nooo-" Daxter groaned, but he knew it was useless.

"I'll go in with you, when they do the trial," Jak offered. "World could always use one less slaver."

"For real?" Sam raised his brows. "You've only been here a day, dude. You need to do some training before you're ready for that."

"Haven's an active warzone," Jak retorted, "and I got forced onto the frontlines for a year. I'll be fine."

"I mean. If you're sure," Sam relented, "I wouldn't mind the company."

"I would," Daxter grumbled under his breath. "I have some objections!"

So, it turned out, did Damas.