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hollisxwrites · 3 months

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Hiii!!! I was wondering if you could do a Percy x Reader, where it’s a friends to lovers kind of thing, they have kind of a childish relationship, and they confess their feelings towards each other when Percy gets a bit jealous of the reader and Grover being close? If not that’s 100% okay! And either way I hope you have a good day or night xx🤍

our goat man friend did the underwater jig

percy jackson x fem reader

word count: 1.6k maybe?

authors note: GUYS. i love you all. thank you for supporting me and my work, I have 3k notes now, and 70 followers. i owe this all to you, and i am so proud of the work that i have done so far. i think this is the most unserious fic i have written; i wrote this at one am, but i think it's cute and fluffy and silly. i hope you guys enjoy my dancing goat man that i love so much! also, so sorry if this is not exactly what you were looking for, anon, i just kind of took a silly idea and ran with it lol.

warnings: jealous percy!, curse words, a fish, this is so silly.

Percy Jackson was my best friend in the entire world, but he was also someone that I love more than my life itself. Ever since we met one faithful day in June, my first day of so-called summer camp, we became inseparable. The son of Poseidon was beautiful, to say the least, and he was endearing. Everyone in Camp loved him, which made everyone in Camp love me, as we were pretty much joined at the hip. Starting when we were thirteen, we would spend the night in his cabin together since we were both plagued by vivid nightmares that left us both restless. It started off as just sharing his cabin, but then it came to sharing a bed, and eventually, us holding each other for maximum nightmare prevention. We also trained together, more and more often the older we got, and we even broke the rules and ate every meal with each other. The young campers, once we turned seventeen and were seen as the ‘cool, older campers’ thought we were dating, and one of them went as far to say that we were married. I could see where someone young would assume that, but none of the older campers said anything…to our faces. I heard the rumors, but I chose to ignore them, Percy and I were just friends. We teased each other, of course, and made sex jokes to each other all of the time, but we were just friends, sadly.

I was in love with the Percy Jackson. He was everything I could ever want, but I blocked out my feeling in order to salvage our friendship that I held so dear. That didn’t stop me, however, from thinking about kissing him every time we laid in his bed together, every time his hand brushed against mine, and every time we spared, and he pinned me to the ground. We spent every single day together, and so, of course, his friends became my friends, and that includes his best friend, Grover.

Though Percy was always going to be my best friend, my home, I was quite the sociable person, and so I enjoyed spending time with everyone. Grover was hilarious, in a quiet way, and he kept me on my toes and my wit in tip top shape. I slowly began to start spending almost as much time with Grover as I did Percy, and nine times out of ten, Percy would tag along, making us a happy little trio that most definitely got along. This specific day, we were spending time at Percy’s favorite place on the Campgrounds, the lake.

I was chasing after Grover and Percy who had taken off spiriting through the woods after they heard some rustling in the trees that they thought was a monster, or even worse, Clarisse, but it just ended up being a cute little bunny. “Guys!” I panted out. “Wait up, please!”

Percy looked behind himself and at me. He gave me one of his award-winning smirks and said, “just run faster, bitch!”

Grover snorted rather unattractively at that, but the joke didn’t stop him from slowing his pace to let me catch up to him. “Don’t want you to get lost.” Grover winked, making me laugh at his comedic gesture.

“Stop flirting and hurry up, don’t want anyone to have the same idea as us!” Percy, from about thirty feet away, yelled, a sour tone in his voice.

“Ew, we are not flirting, Perc!” I yelled back, in an equally disgusted tone.

Grover rolled his eyes at both of us and lowered his voice just to address me. “When are you going to tell him, girl?” He massaged his temples. “He is goo-goo eyed for you.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes. “Never. I love him, but he doesn’t love me like that.”

Grover nearly groaned in annoyance. “{Reader}, I’m saying this because I am your friend, but you are acting like a dumbass. I have told you he loves you, and you love him, and why don’t you just act on it?”

Grover had been my wingman this entire time, encouraging me to grow some balls and ask the man of my dreams out. It all started this one time where, on a dare, someone asked Percy to kiss me, and he obliged without any protest. Putting two and two together, Grover decided that I liked Percy, and he liked me, and so we needed to date. That was three years ago. Nothing anywhere close to that, except this one time he kissed me on the cheek because…that’s beside the point.

“I will, Grover. I just don’t want to…”

My thought was cut off by us approaching the clearing where the man of the hour, the beautiful, Perseus Jackson stood, his arms crossed, and cheeks flushed from overexertion. “Took you guys soon enough! Let’s swim!”

Percy tossed his orange t-shirt aside and it took everything in my power not to stare. He was just too stunning. I followed suit, pulling off my athletic shorts and matching orange Camp shirt to reveal a deep blue swimsuit that I think showed off figure that I had acquired from training.

I dove in the water after Percy, and he scooped me into his freckled arms. “I like the swimsuit.” He said with a sheepish smile on his face.

“Thank you, Perc.” I said, my face flushed, but I pretended it was from the bright sun that was baking us.

Our moment was interrupted by Grover cannonballing right into the middle of our little bubble of unconfessed feelings, sending a tidal wave of water over Percy and I.

I wiped the water from my eyes when all of the sudden, Percy pushed me under the water. In the moment, I started to panic, a little bit, because I couldn’t breathe, but all of the sudden, I could. Percy was protecting me. My initial thought was, poor Grover, we’re abandoning him, but then my second thought was, holy shit, I’m underwater alone, in a bubble, with Percy fucking Jackson.

Percy smiled at me and hurried me along when we were finally able to touch the floor of the lake. I could see Grovers little goat feet treading water from above us, and it made both me and Percy giggle a little bit. Percy finally stopped pushing me along in his little bubble when we reached a beautiful cove of water lilies. I smiled at the boy in front of me, and he smiled back, a little awkwardly.

“Soooo…{Reader}.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck. I giggled awkwardly. “Percy.”

“I see you and Grover have gotten…closer.” His eyes were unreadable, and I had no idea where this was going.

“He’s a twenty-something year old goat man who I see as more of a father figure than anything else, Percy. I am a seventeen-year-old demigod who has no father figure in her life. We may have gotten closer, but it’s nothing like that.” I said, a matter-of-fact tone in my voice.

Percy looked embarrassed at this, probably thinking about how he didn’t really think his accusation through. “That’s very true.” His eyes avoided meeting mine, and he seemed suddenly very interested in a fish swimming by me.

“Why do you care?” I asked, genuinely wondering. Percy shrugged at this, not confessing his real reason for dragging to the bottom of a dam lake. “Look at me, Perc, why do you care?”

His eyes finally met mine. “Because you’re mine, and I don’t want someone else to look at you the way I want to.”

I was…flabbergasted…to say the least. I was not expecting that. “Of course, I am yours, but to what extent? We can’t keep dancing around each other, waiting for someone to finally break the tension surrounding us.”

At this, Percy pulled us closer together, our faces inches apart. “This tension?”

My breath faltered. “This exactly.”

Percy let us linger on the feeling of closeness without pressing our lips together. Our eyes met, and our noses nearly touched, but neither of us took the next step. I could feel him breathing, and I was sure he could feel me, and the electric energy of love sparking between that I was sure the fishes around us could feel it. “Kiss me, asshole.” I mumbled against his lips, and his next movement made my head spin.

The kiss was…magical. I was unable to think of anything, not even how to breathe. Percy’s lips were everywhere and nowhere all at once, and my hands found his hair almost by instinct. Before things could get a little too far, both of us looked up and almost had a heart attack. Grover was right above us doing a little jig in the water, holding his nose, trying not to inhale water.

“What the fuck, Grover!” Percy exclaimed, laughing hysterically, his hands still around my waist. Grover floated back up to the surface, probably going back up for air, and Percy and I smiled at each other, laughter seizing our bodies.

We paddled back up to the surface. “Grover, I will slaughter you.” I said, the huge smile on my face telling him that my threat was empty.

“I win a bet! I win a bet!” Grover sang, doing his little jig on the beach now. “I am so glad I do not have to listen to you guys pine over each other anymore!”

I gasped and looked at Percy who froze beside me. “You pined over me?”

“That’s a story for another day.” Percy said, stifling back a laugh.

The rest of the day was bliss, my new boyfriend and annoying, jigging goat friend by my side, making that day a day that I would always remember.

#percy jackson #percy jackson show #percy jackson fluff #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #luke castellan x you #pjo series #pjo #pjo tv show #pjo fandom #grover underwood

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goatdays · 4 months

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Well Nikki decided to drop all her fiber at once this year! It took about 3 days doing one hour sessions to comb this all out but it's nice to be done! I got a nice thirteen gallon trashbag worth of fleece off of her, wich for it's size is only 10.2 ounces of fleece! So next time you look at cashmere and think damn thats expensive just remember that the average cashmere goat only produces around 5oz in a year (also localy produced fiber is always a better buy ;)) So good job Nikki! I'm excited to process this to sell this year, though I'm not sure if i should process it fully into yarn or leave it as cloud for others to spin. Lots of decisions! I have four other goats to comb out and I'm excited to see how their fleeces turn out this year since Nikki's is looking so lovely!

#goats #goat #cashmere goat #goatblr #farm animals #farmblr #nikki #fiber goats #fiber stuff #fiber arts #cashmere #fiber #farming

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thaliagracesgf · 3 months

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i hail a cab with a goat, and make some questionable decisions at a party

author’s note: i want to make it, like, really, really, clear that this is not a fic glorifying sa or being a victim. what the reader goes through here is a horrible experience, one that’s happened to me and countless other women (and other people!!). this fic is for anyone who, in the words of rachel sennot in bottoms, has been “gray-area-d,” and felt completely lost afterwards, not knowing how to feel or what to think. this is one example of how you deserved to have been treated, and i’m sorry if this or something similar wasn’t your experience.

content warnings: sexual assault (not graphic and not by luke! r is sort of tied down and has their shorts undone), violence (luke is not happy about this situation), alcohol (r is drunk), talking about it afterwards?, talking about monsters (on a regular pjo level), swearing.

word count: 6.6k. i had a lot to say. so sorry.

this is the first fic i have written in a while, i hope you enjoy it!

⭑

seven a.m. in the camp half-blood dining pavilion saw the same faces every morning. you, silena beauregard, clarisse larue, and annabeth chase. your little group of friends spanned six years, at seventeen, fourteen, thirteen, and eleven, and your best friend, who had been off at college all year, made it eight.

you didn’t remember becoming friends with silena and clarisse, although you figured hannah, your best friend and silena’s older half-sister, must have introduced you, and clarisse came along with her.

you had met annabeth and hannah when you were just thirteen, when you had followed a friend to connecticut in the middle of pre-algebra.

“do you understand any of this?” you whispered to grover. he gave you a look as if he had never seen a fraction before last week, and you sighed. your teacher, a kind old woman named ms. lucy, gave you a look. when she gave the class a new problem to work through, she came and knelt by your desk, looking over your shoulder at what you had managed so far. which was a whole lot of nothing, unless you included a sketch of grover that would make picasso proud. you shrunk sheepishly in your chair.

you looked to your right, as if trying to see how bad it really was compared to your model, but he was gone. you turned back to ms. lucy.

“did you see grover leave?”

“hmm?”

“grover. did he go to the bathroom?”

“i assume so, dear. if you convert the decimal—" but grover’s things were gone. you felt terrible. you knew you were a terrible student, and ms. lucy was so kind to you anyways, but it wasn’t like grover to walk out of class like that. he was terrified of authority.

“i have to go,” you mumbled to ms. lucy, throwing your things in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “stomachache.”

she looked genuinely concerned. “would you like me to let the nurses know you’re coming?”

“no… no. that’s okay.” and you ran out the door.

it wasn’t too hard to find grover. he was sitting in an empty classroom just a few doors down, but what was weirder was that he was watching a video on the projector. weirder still, he was talking to it. you knew it was rude to eavesdrop. it didn’t stop you from doing it.

“chiron, i can’t just leave. she’s here, and she’s in danger. she needs a protector. anything could come for her at any moment—" was he talking about you?

a deep voice over the projector, whose face you could hardly make out through the low-quality image, answered: “i will inform her mother and she will go home. she will stay there until we can send gleeson to collect her and—"

“why can’t you send gleeson for these kids?”

“he’s too far, it would take him a day at least to reach them. i already told you, this was a request from hermes himself. he wants his son and his friends collected as soon as possible, and—"

who the hell was gleeson? and hermes… who names their kid after a greek god? at least choose one with a better name than hermes. it sounded like a disease. your mother had named your brother after some greek hero, but he didn’t go by it. and at least it was, like, a human name.

“he’s the god of travelers.” you were starting to worry that grover might be on drugs. what on earth had they put in those enchiladas at lunch? “can’t he get him, like, a car? a day could be too long for—"

“grover.” the voice boomed. that shut him up. “you will go. you will escort the son of hermes, the daughter of athena, and the daughter of zeus to camp, and then you may return to the city. this is not up for discussion.” you were really starting to think that the booming voice might have been two booming voices, but the door was closed and the audio was already crackly, so you decided it didn’t really matter.

you heard grover’s voice say, “alright,” defeated and almost mournful, and then the message cut off. your eyes widened as you realized that grover would probably step outside any second, and you would have no excuse as to what you were doing with your ear to the wall. you turned slowly, and winced as your shoe squeaked on the linoleum floor. you started speedwalking. no sense in trying to hide anymore, you were just interested in getting as far away as possible before-

“oh, gods.” grover’s voice echoed between cinder block walls and metal lockers. “how much did you hear?”

you turned, your fingers nervously twisting the straps of your backpack. “i mean. not everything. just. you know.”

“almost everything?”

“yeah.”

“this is not good. this is really not good.” grover wasn’t talking to you anymore. he was pacing the short ways of the corridor, head in his hands, muttering to himself. “my first mission and i’ve already messed it up completely.”

“how could you have messed it up completely? you haven’t even met these kids yet.”

“oh, gods,” grover groaned.

“woah, dude. are you like, hindu or something?”

“what?”

“you said gods. plural. i read this book—"

“okay,” grover interrupted. “you need to go home.”

“okay. that was rude. also, it’s like the middle of the day. my mom’s at work and my stepdad will kill me if i come home early.”

“your stepfather. perfect. just climb in the back window of your room, and when your mom gets home, tell her that chiron says you need to go to camp immediately.”

“what? what the hell are you talking about? who— is that who you were talking to on the phone?”

“what?”

“the phone call. the one you were mad at me for overhearing…”

“okay. first of all, that was not overhearing, that was eavesdropping. second of all, i’m not mad. this just complicates things slightly. third of all—"

“dude, you need to—" grover glared at me, and i shut up.

“third of all,” he repeated, “that wasn’t a phone call. it was an iris message.”

“a what?”

“nevermind. not important. ask about it at camp.”

“why do you keep talking about a camp? i haven’t been to camp since music camp in second grade, and they don’t want me back. i was really, really, bad at the recorder.”

“you played the recorder?” grover looked suddenly very interested. “nevermind. you need to go home.”

“dude. i’m telling you, i. can’t.”

“you have to—"

“take me to connecticut,” you suggested.

“what?”

“isn’t that where you’re running off to?”

“you can’t come to connecticut with me—"

“why not? you seemed pretty adamant on the phone—"

“iris message”

“that you needed to be with ‘her’. based on how insanely you have freaked out, i’m guessing that was me. so take me with you.”

“i know you have no idea what is going on right now—"

“thank you for finally acknowledging that important part of this conversation.”

“- but taking you to connecticut would be an astronomically bad idea. like i-would-get-fired kind of bad idea.”

“you’re twelve. how on earth would you get fired? child labor laws are—"

“i’m nineteen.”

you laughed at that one. “yeah, sure.”

grover rolled his eyes. “look, i really, really, wish i could explain more, but i need to go. and i really, really need you to go home.”

“ok.”

“like really, really need you to listen—" he paused. “okay? great!”

“if it means that much to you, i’ll go home.” grover sighed with relief.

he was eating his words. and a tin can he had picked up off the street. you had followed him out of the building, watched him call a cab, and then, at the last second, jumped in after him, slammed the door, and told the driver to drive before grover could figure out what was going on.

after your initial panic, when you realized you were hurtling up fifth avenue at three-hundred miles per hour with three old ladies behind the wheel, you had straightened yourself out, and made grover explain everything. he had, reluctantly, when he came to terms with the fact that you were in too deep to back out now.

he explained camp, the greek (not hindu) gods, and the ladies in the front (who had one eye between them) were very helpful about filling in the details. so, so many details. he explained that he didn’t know who your parent was, just that you were powerful, and that he was planning on asking your mom before everything went up in flames.

he explained that he was going to connecticut to escort three (now four) demigods to camp half-blood, and that they would likely be tailed by monsters the entire way back. four demigods as powerful as you, and one forbidden child — a child of zeus, poseidon, or hades, as he had mentioned — would attract a lot of attention.

and you did. it took you a month to get to camp after you found thalia, luke, and annabeth, constantly being thrown off course by monsters, over which you got to know them better than any friends you’d had in your life (with the exception of maybe grover and your little brother). your mother was worried sick, but you iris-messaged her (grover finally got through on that one) every so often, letting her know you were okay. she was surprisingly understanding about camp. she apologized that she hadn’t been the one to take you herself, and that she had been forced to hide the truth from you for so long. the calls always ended though, when she tried to tell you who your father was. the water would shut off suddenly, the rainbow disappearing along with your mother, so you learned to avoid the topic if you wanted to continue talking.

when thalia died, you were in shock. you sat at the edge of long island sound at camp for three days, staring into the ocean. you didn’t speak, even when you were claimed, as you sat, by your father, poseidon, and shuffled your things from the hermes cabin into cabin three. it was just another loss — you could no longer sleep in the bed next to luke’s. there were no familiar faces in cabin three — no faces at all. you were completely alone.

eventually, an older aphrodite girl came by the cabin. she introduced herself as hannah, and she showed you around camp, forced you to sit with her and her siblings at dinner, dealing with chiron and mr. d’s disgruntlement herself, and at the campfire. she dragged you to the center of the amphitheater, dancing slowly at first, and then faster, until you were laughing and finding luke and annabeth in the crowd and dragging them to dance as well.

you missed hannah so much. she wasn’t that far, a first year at barnard this fall, where you would hopefully be in a couple of years. you weren’t ready for college yet, you thought, so you would take a gap year (though you hadn’t been in school for years) and stay at camp, while chiron would help you convince the admissions committee (using the mist) that you had a perfect gpa, excellent extracurricular activities, and a stellar recommendation letter from a highly admired ancient greek scholar by the name of professor c. brunner.

sitting at breakfast with you was probably miserable, you could admit. you were counting down the days until hannah came back, and your friends were definitely tired of it. but for some reason, this morning silena was practically jumping up and down with something.

“will you stop?” you asked. “you’re shaking the entire table.”

“i can’t, i’m sorry.” she seemed sincere in her apology. “i just— oh, you’ll see.”

you didn’t see, in fact, as someone jumped out from behind you and wrapped their arms around your head, their sweatshirt covering your eyes. “who—" you started, before you got a whiff of lavender-vanilla perfume and jumped up from the table.

hannah. you shrieked, probably waking up half the camp. you spun around and tackled her to the ground, hugging her so tightly you would probably cut off her circulation.

she pushed you off, laughing, and got to her feet. “it’s good to see you too, babe. what’s up with all of you? you never call, i feel like i’ve been completely cut off.” (you had iris-messaged her last week for five hours).

“your sister is still absolutely obsessed with beckendorf,” you said, sitting down.

“hey!” silena protested.

“but of course he has no idea that he likes her.” silena turned pink. “no one here is good enough for annabeth, obviously—"

“i never said that, clarisse doesn’t let any boys near me.” you stick your tongue out at her.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” clarisse said, feigning obliviousness. “you hang out with luke all the time.”

“he’s always hanging out with that new kid.” she grumbled. “or—"

“speaking of, clarisse definitely thinks this hermes boy is so cute— you haven’t met him, he got here a few months ago, but his name is chris, and i think they would be so cute together. she’s out of everyone’s league, obviously, but if anyone would be good for her—"

“gods, you would think you’re the aphrodite kid, listening to you.” hannah smiled. she stole a bite of your french toast.

“i’m just excited to see you,” you said, laying your head on her shoulder. silena and clarisse smirked.

“she’s leaving somebody out here,” silena said, smiling.

“i know, it’s weird, she never shuts up about him otherwise,” clarisse added, narrowing her eyes at you teasingly.

“oh, who could you possibly be talking about?” hannah twirled a piece of hair. she hasn’t even been here, but one doesn’t forget their best friend’s crush of four years in a few months.

“i do not,” you protested meekly.

“you knew who we were talking about, though”

“i spend a lot of time with him, that’s all. there would be a gaping hole if i told you about my day and didn’t bring him up.”

“would you stop pretending as if you aren’t in love with each other, please?” annabeth interrupted. “you’re worse than them, at least they can admit it.” she gestured at clarisse and silena.

“i am not in love with him, annabeth.”

“you’re always starting at him.”

“i’m in conversation.”

“with your eyes. that is literally textbook romance.”

“i could so admit if i was into him,” you say, cutting her off. “i admit things like that all the time. i told you i thought jack was cute. you know that kid from demeter?”

“we all know you made that up,” annabeth said, crossing her arms over her chest. silena gave her a light push.

“don’t be so quick to accuse, annie.” only you and silena ever called her that. “i don’t think she made it up. i just don’t think she’s as into him as she is into him.”

“would you drop it, about luke, please?”

“hey, you said his name, not me,” silena smiled. “but sure. i don’t believe that you’re not into him, but i’ll drop it if you can prove that he isn’t into you.”

your heart sank. you weren’t sure why, but you suddenly felt nauseous at the thought. hannah’s hand rested on your knee, as if she could sense it.

“how am i supposed to do that? i can’t read minds.”

“hook up with jack at the campfire.”

“what?”

“flirt with him! you were just talking the other day about how you’re eighteen and you haven’t even had sex yet.” hannah covered annabeth’s ears, to which she shoved her off and glared. “jack’s, like, really hot. i saw you staring the other day.”

“when luke wasn’t around,” annabeth added, one eyebrow raised.

“you want me to have sex with jack?”

“i’m not saying that. just flirt with him. see what happens. we’ll— she gestured between herself, clarisse, annabeth and hannah— see how luke is doing.”

“okay, he isn’t going to be doing anything,” you said. “i don’t see what this accomplishes.” but even as you were saying it, your mind betrayed you. you thought for a second and conjured an image of strong arms holding you, soft lips kissing yours with the bonfire light in the background. maybe you were near the beach.

“we’ll see,” silena smiled.

you didn’t want to go all the way, or anything. you knew that. but… jack was really hot. and sweet. he was always catching little kids falling off of obstacle courses with soft bushes, and growing them flower crowns. it couldn’t hurt to talk to him, see what happened. maybe he’d ask you out, or something. bring you flowers on a date. and you guessed you wouldn’t mind making out with him.

the campfire roared in the middle of the amphitheater. the only people there were the older campers, and some counselors trickling back in from tucking kids into bed. you had helped luke with the hermes cabin, because he had so many kids to take care of, and you had none.

you pulled the covers over katie, a girl a little younger than annabeth, who had gotten to camp a few months ago. she was still unclaimed, but with the way she spent all day in the strawberry fields, and the plants tended to shoot up around her, you were fairly sure where she belonged.

you kissed the top of her head, and stood up, looking around the dark cabin for luke, seeing him kneeling beside a little boy, probably about the same age as katie. the boy sounded like he was crying.

“hey, connor,” luke whispered, rubbing circles on the kid’s back. “it’s okay. it’s okay. i get them too.” you realized that the boy must have been afraid to fall asleep. “travis is right above you, he’ll protect you, okay? nothing bad can happen to you here.”

he looked over at you, before turning back to connor. “and we can play poker tomorrow, you’re getting pretty good.”

“are you leaving?” the boy whispered, choking a bit on his tears.

“just for a little bit, kid. i’ll be back soon, i promise. i’ll be here when you wake up. i’m not going to leave you anytime soon.”

“okay,” the boy mumbled. luke pulled the covers over his shoulders, and ruffled his hair before turning to you.

“let’s go,” he mouthed, gesturing at the door. the two of you crept outside, luke much more stealthily than you, closing the door silently. “god of thieves,” he shrugged, but he didn’t grin as he usually did when he bragged. you didn’t have to ask why, but you played along.

“yeah, yeah, i know,” you said, rolling your eyes. “can we go now?”

“yeah, ‘course,” he said. he slung his arm over your shoulder, pulling you into him as you walked, and you couldn’t help but think of silena’s words as you rested your head on his chest.

arriving back at the campfire, you pulled yourself away from luke, walking over to hannah. she smirked at you, pulling you in for a hug.

“you don��t have to do this, you know,” she said.

“i know,” you replied. “i want to. he’s cute.”

and he was, you thought, as he led you away from the campfire. you’d sat for an hour, letting the flames dance over your skin as you talked with him. he made you laugh, even blush when he grew a flower out of the stone to tuck behind your ear. when he grabbed your hand and pulled you to your feet, you felt dizzy, though that might have been the alcohol.

as you walked further away from the amphitheater, you spun around in the grass, laughing, and he laughed with you. or at you? you couldn’t really tell, and you didn’t really care. you just wanted to kiss him. you didn’t notice that you weren’t heading near the cabins until he stopped in a little cove at the edge of the forest.

“why are we here?” you asked, a little dazed.

“come on,” he said. “you know why.”

and then he was kissing you. it was messy, and made you kind of uncomfortable, but you told yourself to get over it. you couldn’t expect it to live up to the time luke had kissed you, on a dare, when you were thirteen. nothing would ever live up to that, because you couldn’t have him. he hadn’t even cared when you had left him at the party, talking up some girl you couldn’t really see on the other side of the fire.

you blinked, pulling away from jack. you hadn’t realized as you were thinking it, but you had admitted to yourself for the first time that yes: you did want luke. really, really, wanted him. you pushed back on jack lightly.

“i’m sorry, i don’t think i can do this right now,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth on the sleeve of your hoodie — luke’s hoodie, that he had given you that night after he kissed you, when you were shivering outside, staring into space because you couldn’t understand what you were feeling.

“come on, it’s fine,” jack replied, pulling you back into his arms. they weren’t like the arms you were picturing earlier. no, you could admit to yourself new that those had been luke’s. your mind was reeling— you knew that you couldn’t have him, that he would never like you like you liked him, but kissing jack felt wrong. not that you had really been kissing him back.

“i want to go home,” you said, and you weren’t sure where you meant. back to the campfire, to luke and hannah, back to your cabin? maybe even back to your mom on the upper east side, who you missed every day but couldn’t live with during the year for the sake of your little brother, who was too young to know that he, too, was a son of poseidon.

“really? you were flirting with me all night,” jack mumbled into your lips. “stay a little longer.” it was true, you had been flirting with him. you figured you could at least make out with him for a bit. you resigned, letting him lower you onto the grass, and reluctantly letting him run his hands along the hem of your shirt.

hannah was getting worried, and luke could tell. he had forced himself off when you were clearly interested in that demeter guy, who luke knew and was friends with but suddenly hated with all his guts. he had forced himself to be interested in getting the details on silena and beckendorf, which he didn’t really realize he was getting to share with you later, resigning to glancing too often through the flames of the fire at your face, and the way the flames made you look like a goddess. no, he thought. you always looked like a goddess.

but hannah, who had just arrived back at camp for the summer that morning, was biting her lip, and looking around with a bothered expression on her face, and luke had a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach, that he needed to know you were safe immediately.

he walked over to hannah, probably too quickly, and didn’t waste time asking how she was, or how college had been. “where is she?” he demanded, too forcefully. he would have to apologize to hannah later, but he only had one thing on his mind.“what’s wrong?”

“oh. hey, luke,” she said, still in a sort of trance. he snapped his finger away from her face, shaking his head.

“hannah? where is she?”

she shook her head and widened her eyes. it was clear to luke that you had picked up that habit of staring out at nothing when you were deep in thought, usually not about pleasant things. “she’s with jack,” she said. “they left a little while ago. i just… i don’t know. i should go check that she’s back at her cabin by now.”

“yeah, yeah we should,” luke grumbled, and started taking the steps out of the theater two at a time in an effort to get out. hannah followed— you had told him that his stress could be contagious.

you weren’t in your cabin. you weren’t in the demeter cabin either, and the pair of them woke up a bunch of kids as you barged in, which he was sure mr. d would have a lot to say about in the morning, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

he ran across the basketball court, hannah close behind.

“i have an idea of where they might be,” hannah said, pointing in the direction of the woods.

“how do you know?”

“because i showed jack that spot when we were fourteen,” she said, grumbling. luke clearly wasn’t the only one who cared about you.

“i thought you were gay?” luke questioned, not slowing down.

“yeah. like i said, fourteen. people explore things, figure themselves out.” gods, she thought, men could be so incredibly stupid.

they ran faster than ever to the edge of the woods, where sure enough, they found you, lying on a mossy stone with jack hovering over you. luke wanted to run to you immediately, but hannah held him back — no easy feat, but she managed.

“hold on, romeo,” she strained. “you can’t just barge in there and—” then she heard it— the unmistakable sound of your voice, and the word stop.

“jack…” you mumbled. you were so drunk. you weren’t sure where you were anymore, and you didn’t really remember walking over here, though you knew you had. “jack, we can do this later, i’m tired—”

“you’re fine, it’s fine,” he said quietly, starting to undo the zipper of your shorts. you reached down to stop him, but he pushed your hand away, and as it hit the stone, moss started growing over it, holding it there.

“jack, stop it,” you said, more forcefully this time. you realized that he didn’t even know what he was doing, and for some reason that scared you more. he wasn’t doing it on purpose, but he wanted it— he wanted you held down, and he didn’t care that you didn’t.

he shushed you, but looked up at a rustling in the trees, and a familiar grunt.

luke broke out of hannah’s arms, but it didn’t really matter, because she had been letting him go anyways. he stormed across the clearing, and while you were still dazed and confused, you couldn’t miss the entirety of jack’s weight being ripped from on top of you, and you thought you saw a fist collide with his face.

hannah, however, rushed to your side. she didn’t particularly want to see luke end up bloody and beaten in the infirmary, but she had bigger fish to fry right now: namely, you. she tore up the moss, no longer strong as jack’s focus was elsewhere, and redid your shorts for you. there were tears on your face as she pulled you to your feet.

there was so much noise. jack was shouting at luke, but you couldn’t make out the words. you could hear the music and the gleeful sounds of counselors from the amphitheater, but it seemed worlds away from you.

as hannah led you out of the woods, much faster than you could really manage, your head began to pound behind your eyes. a splitting pain hit your forehead, and your vision went black and spotty. you stumbled forward, relying entirely on hannah to keep you upright, but one stray tree root took you down. you swam between consciousness and a dark, dark sleep. there was screaming, it was hannah, and then the familiar deep voice of clarisse, barking orders. you thought you heard annabeth’s name, and then two strong sets of arms lifting you up, and carrying you away.

you woke up at the bottom of the sea. no. that wasn’t right. the bottom of the sea was soft, covered in mud and sand. you tried to stretch your body, hitting plastic walls. as your eyes focused, you could make out cartoon fish swimming entirely too close to your face, and you sat up with a start, splashing water all over a corner of the infirmary.

a kiddie pool. they had filled a kiddie pool with salt water, and left you in it overnight to soak, like one of those colorful dinosaur toys that grew in water. and the worst part was that it seemed to have worked. you felt brand new, like you had slept for a hundred years, and at the same time followed a very strict workout regimen, taken a juice cleanse and eaten like a king. you groaned, and slipped back under the water.

you stared at the ceiling, watching wooden beams ripple with the surface of your personal ocean. you wondered if your father ever felt like this is in the pacific, if he could be that big if he wanted to. your camp necklace floated up before your face, crossing a familiar face lurking over you.

you sat up. cara fletcher, hannah’s friend, held out some nectar. you shook your head.

“i’m okay.”

she raised an eyebrow.

“fine,” you sighed, taking the flask and drinking. it did help. you felt like you could take on the minotaur.

“your friends were here all night,” she said. i kicked them out around ten because they were falling asleep on each other, and i didn’t need any more cracked skulls when they fell off the stools.

“more?” you asked. she sighed, looking over her shoulder.

“your boyfriend beat that kid up pretty bad last night,” she said. you didn’t see jack lying on any of the cots, but a head of dark curls lay a few beds down, and the body attached to it did not look to be in great shape.

“he’s not my boyfriend.” you answered quickly, not taking your eyes off of luke. “is he okay?”

cara seemed to make out which he’s you were referring to. “i wasn’t talking about him,” she said. “hannah told me what happened. if you ask me, luke didn’t do nearly enough damage.”

“don’t tell him that,” you said. “and he’s also not my boyfriend,” you added as you processed her words fully.

“not yet, he’s not.” hannah said, strolling in with three bagels in hand.

“i thought i told you to go to bed,” cara scolded, taking her bagel. “you’re going to drop dead one of these days.” hannah smiled, ignoring her as he sat down next to her and put her arm around her shoulders.

you glance between them, ideas churning in your mind, but they were quickly interrupted by the bagel being shoved in your face. you had always thought that the harpies must have spent some time in the city— they made a dam good bagel.

“so.” hannah started. “you are going to tell us everything you’re thinking right now, because i see you looking over at him every two seconds, and don’t think you’re getting out of any of it.”

“i’m eating,” you grumbled. hannah reached to snatch the bagel away, but cara swatted her hand back.

“she’s recovering.” you stuck your tongue out at hannah.

“i don’t care,” hannah said. “spill.”

“look, i don’t even know what happened last night—”

“because you were really, really, drunk,” she interrupted.

“do you want me to speak or not?” you demanded.

“okay. fine. but just so you’re aware, he swooped in and defended you, and beat the shit out of that little asshole, who, just between us, mr. d is fucking fuming with.” trust hannah to get distracted two seconds in. demigod adhd was no joke. “he dragged him to the big house this morning himself, severe concussion and all, and according to lee, chewed him out for about an hour. something about the sanctity of drunkenness and how it is not to be weaponized… even chiron was surprised.” she paused for breath.

“anyways, the point stands— he,” she nodded her head at luke, “was quite literally your knight in shining armor, and if you still don’t think he is absolutely enamored with you—” and you were pretty sure you heard a cot creak— “then i swear on my mother i will call her down and force her to do something about this because i cannot take it any longer.”

“he was just being a good person, hannah,” you muttered. “he’s just like that.”

hannah looked as though she were about to scream, but cara rubbed her hand along her thigh, calming her before she spoke herself.

“there’s something more than that, isn’t there?” she asked softly, and you thought she was staring directly into your soul. “there’s a reason you don’t think he likes you.”

you hesitated, splashing the water around in your pool and making eye contact with a cartoon fish as you worked up the courage to say what it was you knew you had to get off your chest.

“before last night,” you started, your voice cracking as you spoke, “it was just me thinking i wasn’t pretty enough, or good enough for him. that he wouldn’t look at me because there are so many other girls at this camp who are obsessed with him. and i don't think i realized that i liked him either. but now…” a sob came from the back of your throat, and you looked up at hannah, tears streaking your red face.

“why would he want me now?” you sobbed.

“hey. stop that,” hannah started. “what jack did to you wasn’t your fault, and everyone knows that.” she was trying to make you feel better, but the news that your pathetic love life was the talk of camp wasn’t exactly reassuring.

“it was, though,” you said quietly. “i led him on. i never told him no that strongly, and i was flirting with him all night. what reason did he have not to think… not to…” you were hyperventilating now, your words coming out in broken syllables.

“i’m a fucking slut, and now everyone knows it,” you managed. you sank back into the water to slow your breathing, but tears still streamed down your face.

“that’s bullshit,” came a voice from elsewhere in the infirmary. you could have thrown up then and there. you pulled yourself up by the walls of the kiddie pool, looking down the aisle as luke castellan limped towards you. his scarred eye was bruised and bloodshot, and he had a massive scrape running up his left arm, and that was just what you could see. the tears began to fall faster.

“luke…”

you were thirteen years old again, at the top of half-blood hill, holding grover upright. you were watching desperately as he stumbled upward, through the pouring rain, carrying a screaming little girl who was trying with all her might to run back and help her friend. all four of you were sobbing, exhausted and beaten. seeing them all like that was ten times more painful than the gash in your side.

“that’s bullshit,” luke repeated. you got up from the pool and held his face in your hand, inspecting the bruise. you took the rest of the nectar cara had given you, holding it to his lips, but he pushed it away. “you’re not a slut,” he said. suddenly everything about your conversation came rushing back to you, and it hit you that you had just admitted to him that you were in love with him.

you turned your head. hannah and cara were gone, slipped out the back door. you turned back to face luke, face red and tears pouring over your skin.

“that wasn’t your fault. you didn’t owe him anything. he‘s disgusting, and deserves to have his fucking dick cut off.” you laugh, despite everything.

“i think mr. d may have actually taken care of that,” you whispered.

“good.” you looked at him for a while. his eyes were so beautiful, a deep, deep, brown that reminds you of the otters that hung mysteriously around your upper east side apartment when you lived in the city.

“why did you have to fight him?” you asked, reaching up to his face again.

“you were in trouble,” he said.

“luke.” the tears were threatening to fall again. “you could have seriously hurt yourself. i just… why? why not just pull him off of me?” you needed an answer. you needed to know why, why on earth he had put so much of himself in front of you, in front of jack’s fists.

he looked down at you, a pained expression on his face. “you know why,” he whispered.

he looked down at your lips, and you shook your head softly. you looked down at your feet. you were so afraid, afraid that he wouldn’t be interested now that you didn’t want… that. from him. yet— that you considered looking up and letting him kiss you.

he shocked you when he wrapped his arms around you and held you close to him, holding the back of your head into the space between his chest and his shoulder.

“okay,” he whispered. “that’s okay.” then, softer. “i love you.”

you couldn’t say it back. not yet, not now. but you held him tighter, holding on to him like he was the only thing stopping you from falling into tartarus.

“i’ll be here forever,” he spoke into your hair. and you believed him.

the hermes cabin hosted a movie night that night. you were watching the incredibles two, at a request from connor stoll, who was currently involved in an intense argument with annabeth over which installment was better.

“i think i’m going to start calling you that,” luke whispered in your ear. “jack-jack.” you glared at him. “‘cause, you know, your last name’s jackson-”

“yeah, dude, i got the joke,” you said. you rolled your eyes, nuzzling your head into his chest. you could stay like this for a while, you thought, and as you closed your eyes, you felt him press a kiss to your head — something you had told him was okay. you couldn’t wait to bring him home for a weekend. maybe annabeth, too. you couldn’t help but think she would get along great with your brother.

⭑

a/n: hello loves! i hope you enjoyed this, please please leave any feedback or anything, and let me know if you would like me to continue this story/write more of luke and the reader's past. i hope people enjoyed the little hints at percy! so excited for this reader and to explore all her relationships.

#pjo x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #charlie bushnell #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke castellan angst #luke pjo #percy series

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residenthughes · 1 year

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bottomless brunch & shitty one-liners

pairing: leon kennedy x gender neutral reader

word count: 959 😔

tags/warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, crack, reader is just a drunk horny bastard :)

summary: 2 hours. thirteen cocktails and a whole lot of chaos.

notes: ...hey 😭 i know i said i wouldn't be posting/maybe not posting but i was looking through my fic ideas and this happened. whoopsies! 🤭 honestly, this was just a silly idea i had because i came across a video of all the one-liners leon says in re4, which are very much present in this.

forgot to mention, there's biting...again 😭 i don't know what it is, but the urge to bite leon is quite real and that reflects in my fics 😁 hope y'all enjoy :)

You’re drunk, disgustingly so. Bottomless brunch is always a good way to spend time with your dearest, spilling intimate talk amidst intoxicated giggles and basking in the foreverness of formed friendships. However, they do not come without consequence - that being you an absolute state in front of Leon. Your dutiful long-time partner, ever so sweet as he spared the precious time he has off from his missions to pick you up from the wild affair - thirteen cocktails deep - sheepishly greeting your friends that holler sexual innuendos as he helps you into the car. He does it anyway, because he loves you. He loves you, he really does - but you’re chatting out of your ass right now.

“You know, considering how you move around the house, you must be the GOAT at what you do,” you mumble, smushing your face into the pillow as you cause nothing but a ruckus as you discard your additional pieces of clothing on the bed.

Sat on the bedroom bench, Leon shrugs his boots off, glancing over his shoulder at the mess you are. Stupidly drunk and struggling to shimmy off your jeans. Cute. “Oh, baby.”

“Those one-liners though…that’s a different story.”

The sweet moment is all but gone. “Gee, thanks honey.”

Despite the fact that there’s not a thought behind your eyes, you smile at his sarcasm. Snickering to yourself as you shimmy the last part of your jeans off before they’re lazily discarded onto the floor. You’ll (Leon will) pick it up later. “Honestly! Bet you’re the type of motherfucker to be confronted with unbelievable atrocities, only to say, it’s my lucky day or something.”

Leon huffs in amusement. He’s definitely said that before.

“Go on,” he decides to entertain your teasing, stripping himself of the leather jacket you went on and on about in the car looking so good on him. “What other one-liners do you think I say?”

You give a thoughtful hum, touching your chin as you lay back against the comfort of your shared bed. The time you take to answer has Leon taking a look back at you, questioning if you’d fallen into a drunken slumber, like a drunk middle aged uncle passed out on the couch, only to see your face flash as an idea pops into your head.

“Oh, how about something like, time for the teacher to be taught?”

It’s scary how well you know Leon. His most recent mission had him spewing the exact same words. It gives him goosebumps. “You sure you’re not reading my reports when I’m not looking?”

You giggle. “Just know how cheesy you can be, hon.”

“Now you’re just making fun of me.”

The laughter that erupts from you is unstoppable, so much so that you’re clenching your stomach and kicking your feet in the air. Leon can be so funny, so funny. You’re lucky to have him, you think.

Once you wipe your tears of laughter, you’re bringing yourself to sit upwards. Slowly, of course. Wouldn’t want to be sick all over the bed. Again. You move towards where Leon rests against the bedroom bench, draping your arms around his waist and you rest your cheek against his shoulder. “I kid, I kid. You know I love you.”

“Judging by what you’ve just said in the past two minutes, I’m not too sure.” He says, but he doesn’t mean it. He’s amused, if anything. You can tell by his amused smile and the playful raise of his eyebrows.

Your eyes skim over his features, carved to perfection and all yours.

You hug him just a bit tighter.

“Come on,” you nudge him, all playful in his ear as you coax him to look your way. He does, smoulder melting into his features as he gazes at you with a fondness that’s all for you. You feel restless. Must be the alcohol kicking in. “There’s that pretty smile, handsome.”

“Handsome, huh?”

You don’t know what it is, but the simple echo of your words coming from him sets you off, sending you on a collision course towards the ever so sinful and lustful domain.

“Extremely so,” you bat your eyelashes and nudge him again. “Come on, handsome. Look this way.”

He looks at you. His face on full display and you take your chance, kissing the edge of his lips before you misaim and bite down on his jaw. “What is with you?”

Leon’s chuckling as you kiss the bitten territory, kissing up and down his face in sweet apologies. Leon doesn’t miss when you bite down on his chin amidst the mess of kisses you leave.

“Can’t help it,” you murmur lazily, cheek pressed against his shoulder. “Too sexy - even your goddamn chin. Make it make sense.”

“Can’t believe that meme about your partner going out to bottomless brunch, only to come back a horny bastard is true.” Leon talks to himself but you perk up anyways, glimmer in your eyes.

“You saw the memes I sent you?”

“‘Course I did,” Leon answers, placing a brief kiss against your temple. You relax into his touch. “I do other things besides say shitty one-liners on my missions.”

You smile, ever so grateful for the place Leon holds in your life. You couldn’t imagine it any other way. “How romantic.”

“Only for you, baby.”

You hum against the exposed skin of his shoulder, peering up at the man with a devious glimmer in your eyes. Leon can’t help but shake his head as he airs out a small chuckle.

“So, about the meme,” you wiggle your eyebrows, pressing your body up against Leon’s wide back, grin as mischievous as ever. “How about we put it to practise?”

And you do, making another mess of your sheets this time around.

#leon kennedy #re4r #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x reader #re4r leon #resident evil 4 remake #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 #resident evil #resident evil fanfic #resident evil 4 fanfic #resident evil fluff

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carlyraejepsans · 3 months

Text

Biscia's Toriel fic recs list

> 2-10k words

An Old Goat Can Teach New Tricks (Gen, 8.9k words, TP, Toriel centric) blatant favorite everyone read this it needs to be a character classic in the fandom right NEOWWW.

With part of her mind always on issues beyond raising and teaching children, Toriel decides to do her part to show the humans that monsters come in peace. And what better way to teach that fact than going to a human school to do it?

Bittersweet Thirteen (Gen, 5.8k words, TP, Fluff, Angst, Grief, Toriel & Frisk)

Toriel always dreads this day.

She's had a long time to grieve her life's many losses, but she still can't fight off the despondency that comes with the birthday of one of her fallen children. Her sole child who still lives--and one who does not--decide to take action.

home, heart & heartache (Gen, 4.7k words, Pre-canon, angst, Toriel & the Fallen Humans (& Sans). Warning for graphic child death).

You leave the palace and your crown behind, and vanish behind a stone door nobody can pass. In the ruins, you can build a safe haven, protect any further children that drop from up above. Perhaps you could become a mother, again, and try to understand what drew these children up the mountain and into the abyss to begin with. Try to heal that wound.

You suppose this is a form of cowardice in itself.

< 2k words

The Bedtime Story. (Gen, 1.2k words, Humor, Toriel & Frisk)

Every night, Toriel reads Frisk a bedtime story. Unlike other nights, tonight's bedtime story comes with a moral.

...*A* moral, not necessarily a good one.

Duty of Care (Gen, 1.4k words, TP, angst, H/C, PTSD, Toriel &(/) Sans) obligatory self promo

"Because that’s what they w—are. Before being the savior of monsterkind, Frisk is a child—a human one, at that—and human children get sick. Toriel knows better than anyone. So she pulled herself together, rolled up her sleeves and got to work. Even as time passed, as their condition worsened and the fever refused to break.

All is right, she tells herself.

The child isn’t dead."

* Smells like soap bubbles. (Gen, TP, 500 words, Toriel & Frisk)

One instance of Toriel and Frisk learning how to be a family together."

Wear and Tear (Gen, 600 words, Character study, Grief, Toriel centric)

Toriel remembers her second child.

Recognition (Gen, TP, 300 words, angst, Toriel & Flowey)

One time, Toriel fell asleep on the floor. She woke up in bed with a glass of water next to her, filled to the brim.

She used to know someone who filled glasses like that.

#undertale #underfic #toriel

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darkestspring · 1 year

Text

Bronze and Silver

a/n: upon popular request i’ve decided to make an expanded second part to my rhea x daemon daughter little blurb which you can find HERE! I was so excited to write the first part so i loved writing this so much.

words: a little over 2k words

It had come from a drunken night between Lady Rhea Royce and her husband (as much as it made her nearly vomit to say that word) Daemon Targaryen. One single night of drunken stupor and only weeks later was it comfirmed that Lady Royce was pregnant.

The maester had gently suggested contacting her husband which she had scoffed at, this baby is hers. Nothing of his, why should she inform her ever so absent and estranged husband.

As she placed her hand on her stomach, a rare smile came over her face. Her baby. Her blood, her child.

At first the pregnancy wasn’t easy, she cursed out everyone who irritated her and her child’s craving for fruit never left, she was amazed by it.

The birth was difficult, the pain overbearing as she screamed her way through it with the help of the maesters.

After nine hours, her child was here. The placed her blood in her arms and she was amazed by her daughter. White hair and bright purple eyes but she had the shape of her nose and the same face as her mother.

Rhea trailed her finger down he daughter’s little nose, in something akin to awe as she cradled her daughter.

“My lady, what name have to thought of. The king gifted you a book of Valyrian names a long time ago. Shall I fetch it?” The servant asked, as the maesters tended to the Lady and her newborn child.

Rhea had scoffed, irritation flashing through her. “This child is a Royce, my blood. Their name shall be fitting of it,”

“Diana.” She declared, looking to the maester. “My daughter shall be Diana Royce, after the goddess of the moon, the hunt and protector of women. My little huntress.” She cooed the last part as her daughter made little sound, her purple eyes staring up at her mother with interest.

Years later, those same purple eyes fill with tears as she clung to her cousin’s clothes. “No, mama can’t be gone! How could such an injustice be served!”

How could Gerold comfort a child who had just lost their mother to the father they never even knew? His little cousin of six.

At the age of six, Diana was talented with a bow and arrow, taking after her mother, the mother she loved that was now dead.

After the funeral processions, Gerold headed to King’s Landing to attend the wedding of Princess Rhaenyra (they had all agreed to keep her existence a secret from her absent father) and Diana snuck into Dragonstone.

She would claim a dragon and take her revenge. She would avenge her mother, who had done nothing but what was expected of her. Let her father learn that there are always consequences for the actions he takes.

As Gerold Royce accuses Daemon Targaryen of Lady Rhea Royce’s murder, Lady Diana Royce-Targaryen sneaks into dragonstone and claims the monstrous Cannibal as her own.

She returns home with a bonded dragon and victory on her tongue as she orders them to bring three goats for her beloved boy.

She’s thirteen when she gets the news that her father’s wife is dead, and then her cousin’s husband is dead, and then her cousin and father marry. She laughs the loudest when she hears what they’re saying about her father. She’s always known he was a murderer, and now others know it too.

She’s fifteen when the call to court comes, they have discovered her existence and wish to see the truth with their own eyes.

“Prepare my things.” She ordered the servants as she sets the letter down. “Back a light back and run me a both. I wish to wear my black riding clothes.”

“Yes, my Lady.” The servants rushed off to get started as smile started to tug at the lips of Lady Diana Royce.

“Oh, this is too funny!” Diana laughs as she leans back into her chair, her purple eyes filled with amusement. “This is getting so much more interesting!”

As she dressed in blackened thick riding leathers, she climbs onto Cannibal’s black. She pets his neck gently with a smile. “It’s gonna be a long ride, boy.” She looks forward to all of it. “Soves!”

The dragon keepers are terrified when she lands, its been years since they’ve seen the cannibal. “He won’t be in the dragon pit.” She reassures them before turning to her dragon. “Soves, Cannibal!”

Cannibal lets out a roar that shakes the foundations around them as he leaps into the sky and disappears from view.

“My Lady.” The knight before her bows and she nods, clasping her hands in front of her. “I will guide you to see the Queen and Lord Hand, your uncle is too busy to entertain today.”

Sick, they mean. Diana knows everything, as any good Lady would when they plot the downfall of their own father.

Diana smiles, tilting her head and her white hair tilts her. She doesn’y say anything as she walks ahead.

“Lady Diana Royce-Targaryen!” The guard at the door announced and with her head high, Diana walked forth. Her eye caught white hair and she turned to look as a boy around her age, with an eyepatch over one eye looking at her with intrigue.

She turned her face back around and stopped in front of her supposed aunt and the hand.

“I welcome you to King’s Landing, Lady Royce.” Alicent greeted the girl, a strained smile filling her face. She had no idea that Daemon had actually had a daughter with his first wife, it was news to her father as well.

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Diana bowed her head to her as she stood still. “I admit, I fear I do not understand why I have been summoned away from my home, The Vale.”

“We were not aware of your existence. None of us were. Not even the king.” Otto stares at the girl of fifteen in front of him as her eyebrows furrow and her eyes narrow. “One might be curious as to why.”

“It was never deemed necessarily. My mother, may the gods protect her departed soul, never deemed it necessary to inform anyone outside of the vale, including my... father.” The word tasted like acid in her mouth and her mask dropped for a second, allowing Alicent and Otto to see her disgust and resentment.

“After her sudden death, we decided to keep this knowledge limited to the Vale. I am a Royce after all.”

Sick satisfaction settled in Otto as he was clued in to the fact that Daemon didn’t know this child existed. This child that they could influence and that they could take under their wing. “Yes, but we know now and you are of marrying age.”

“Yes, and I am also the Lady of the Vale, rider of the monstrous Cannibal. I am many things. I want many things.” Diana spoke, her kind act dropping as she stared at the both of them with irritation.

Aemond was stunned at the words, The Cannibal? No one could tame him because he ate humans and dragons alike but his cousin had? He wanted to talk more to her. His mother and grandfather had told him of the possibility of a betrothal.

“If you wish for me to marry your second son, say so. I tire of games. I want my father’s head. I don’t care about anyone else.” Diana declared, trying to keep a hold on her irritation.

“Lady Diana!” Alicent tried to reprimand her, even if she did feel bad for the girl. She hadn’t had a female figure to look after since she was six.

Otto found amusement in this girl, she knew what she wanted and didn’t hold back. A good asset indeed. “The king has agreed to a betrothal between the lady Diana and Prince Aemond.”

At his name, Aemond stepped forward until he was right next to Diana and she didn’t move an inch.

Diana stared for a minute with her hard gaze before nodding. “The Vale accepts this proposal. As you are all aware, when I come of age, I will rule the Vale as its Lady, that means that Prince Aemond will become the Lord of the Vale alongside me, any children we have will be our successor.”

“We are aware of that.” Alicent nodded, sending a soft look at Aemond who was surprised but also not against the agreement.

“My betrothed.” Aemond held out his hand and Diana finally turned to him, he was struck by the vibrancy in her eyes as she placed her hand in his.

“My betrothed.” She said in return, nodding to the queen and hand as Aemond guided her away.

As he guided her down to the dragon pit, Cannibal landed nearby, startling Aemond and making a smile appear on Diana’s face. “I’m sure you’ll introduce me to Vhagar later but if Cannibal approves of you, I’ll honor our agreement.”

Aemond’s eye darkened as he looked at her. She would honor it anyways, their betrothal was already set. He was already impressed by her. As a dragon, he was known to be possessive over what he considered his.

Cannibal growled as he approached his rider and the other targaryen. His toxic green eye glared into Aemond as Diana walked closer, her hand petting his jaw with soft strokes. “Oh, my best boy.” She whispered before peering over at Aemond. “Come here.”

He, without hesitation, walked over and she grabbed his hand. “Gently.” She warned him and placed his hand where hers had been, moving it back and forth gently. “That’s it.”

Cannibal ceased his growling and instead started making soft purring sound as his eyes slowly blinked.

Diana laughed, a sound that made Aemond’s attention drift to her, unable to look away. “He likes you.” She smiled at him. “That settles it, we’ll be uniting our houses, my prince.”

Two years went by quickly, faster than she would had liked. Diana, who had moved herself to King’s Landing to begin her courting period with Aemond, had grown much closer to him. Their first kiss shared in the dragon pit not even a year ago. She had left to take care of a matter in the Vale.

“I’ll be back in time for the audience.” She had told Aemond as they walked together, arms linked. “Don’t miss me too much, my love.”

“I always miss you, my dragon.” Aemond’s eye had glittered with fondness as he reached down to kiss her. His world have filled with so much brightness when you had entered it.

Everything had been normal, no one had breathed a word of your existence to the blacks. Not even blabbermouth Aegon.

The audience was just starting, everyone but Aemond was inside, He was waiting by the doors for his betrothed to return.

Diana rushes in, her white hair trailing behind her and Aemond’s eye trails down to her black and gold dress. “You’re almost late, my love.” He teased, a smile on his lips.

“Hush you! Let;s go.”

“Wait.” Aemond stops you with a frown on his lips now. “Your father is here, we didn’t know he was coming with my sister. We took extra care to not mention you to him but, do you still want to this?”

A vindictive glint entered her eyes as she linked her arms with Aemond’s. “I do, you’ll never let me fall.” She said confidently as Aemond nodded towards the guard.

“Lady Diana Royce-Targaryen, first of her name. The Lady of the Vale.” The guard announced as the door opened. “As well as her betrothed, Prince Aemond Targaryen, first of his name. Future Lord of the Vale.”

Many sets of eyes peered at him, some relieved. Some shocked.

Daemon peered at his newly announced daughter as she entered with the one-eyed prince. She was all him. White hair, purple eyes just like his. But she also had some of that Bronze Bitch in her.

Anger grew in him as well as fear and apprehension. How could he not have been told. She looks not much older than Prince Aemond and Prince Jacaerys.

Diana felt eyes on her and she walked forwards with Aemond, taking her place next to Helaena as she kissed the princesses cheek. “Good afternoon, sister.”

Helaena had smiled at her, relieved before glancing forward and turning away with distress. “He is watching.”

Diana looked up from her place and her purple eyes connected with identical ones across from the room.

She smiled at him, wiggling her fingers at him tauntingly.

I win.

#yandere house of the dragon #aemond targaryen x reader #yandere aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #house of the dragon x reader #very subtle yandere vibes!!!!

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six-white-venus · 3 months

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i meet death for the first time when i’m ten and understand nothing about her except a few things-

she’s taking away grandpa

she made dad cry

and i didn’t care for either of that.

what is death for a child, anyway? what is loss for someone who never knew of it? a beginning of something from the end of everything.

ii.

the next time i see her, i’m thirteen.

i think there’s something that ties me and death together so tightly. i am not the same kid i was in ten; thirteen year old me wants to see death, wants her to take me home in her gangly arms. and i do see her, but she’s not here for me. she never is.

she wears a white saree this time and her skin is embroidered with flowers from my grandpa’s garden. i scream at her to leave, just this once. but death has always been cruel, ruthless. she rips him away from my fingers and tears away a good part of my grandma’s soul, too. cruel, ruthless.

but her head hangs low as she leaves the house without meeting my eyes. the sky is blue and filled with the sound of agony when i realize: death is a coward.

after that, she never leaves me, i think. i can never see her (refer: blue skies and cowards), but she presses her icy hands against my head every night when i’m asleep. i’d wake up sobbing, breathless, screaming, screaming for what i lost. i reach my hand out to the sky and try to grab hold of him. and distantly, i wonder if she was hanging her head to hide her smile all along.

iii.

i see him again sooner than i would have liked.

i am fifteen and sadder than i’ve ever been when another beloved of mine is stolen from my arms.

i’m screaming.

this time, he wears a cloak of billowing black and hides his face with a hood. he’s the hands that hold me back as i reach out to what was once mine, alive and breathing. he’s the black i wear throughout the funeral. his eyes (critical, empty, grey) meets mine (salt-filled, miserable, brown). i think i say something to him that day- a singular word collapsing into itself.

the sound of my screams and my lucky charm shattering follows him as he walks away.

iv.

the imprints of his hands remain on my skin. the grime of his fingers colours my arms and the ice of his touch still makes me shiver.

maybe, a mortal was never meant to know the touch of death and go on living. a mortal wasn’t suppoised to bleed at their own accord and wake up smiling with no rememberance of meeting him. i have been tainted by death and it has driven me insane, mother. will you sing me a lullaby and put me to sleep (forever)? would you shut out my smile with your tears every morning and wipe away all my sweet dreams from my eyelids and show me the nightmare that is my reality?

the next time i see death, i am getting ready for school. my eyes are swollen and lifeless and circled with darkness. my movements are controlled by a puppeteer inside my head and i look in the mirror and oh, i see death. i am death.

on my sixteenth birthday, death announces his presence with the sound of seashells and the smell of sanitizer filling the air.

death is a little boy standing at our door and our eyes meet (his- painted black; mine- smeared blue) and i remember what i asked him that day.

why?

and death, he cries. his ink black tears stain our floor. death and i, we are both so tired.

i’m sorry, he says but both of us know he’s not, not really. he’ll be back the next day, the next hour and every minute that follows to devour something of mine.

we’re both tired of this game of tigers and goats, death and i. but he can’t hunting and i can’t stop bleeding and please, i am so tired. can’t you find someone else to feast upon?

i wish i didn’t know the answer to that question.

#my writing #prose poetry #poetry #writeblr #grief #loss #tw death

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he11swinter · 2 years

Text

The Black Zodiac if you made the first move:

Jimmy:

Look, he isn’t interested. Jimmy’s just here to win cash and watch his back. The first red flag was seeing you were interested in him, and he’s seen this enough times to know you must want something out of it.

“So what is it?” He’ll ask. “You want money? A good ol’ pat on the back? Forget it, I’m busy.”

Susan:

Everyone falls for her, so she’s not at all surprised. In fact, she’ll probably forget who you are by this time next week but for now she’ll play along. Susan will make sure to steer clear of her boyfriend and take you out on a date to the mall just to see how much stuff you will buy for her, including dinner, even though everyone knows she’s pretty well off.

“Luxury just tastes better when it’s free. Like, extra free.”

The girls will awkwardly laugh with her on that, but secretly feel bad for you.

Royce:

Are you being for real? Royce is not always subtle so you’ll get to watch him immediately roll his eyes. But as long as you have a plan he’ll like in mind (the boy can be quite impatient) he’ll say “To hell with it, I’ll pick you up at 7:00 and you better be ready.”

He’s not very mature though so if you’re a sensitive person and his blunt attitude at any point upsets you, he really isn’t going to care and he’ll just get annoyed. Don’t expect him to be the romantic type.

Ryan:

The attention will send Ryan over the moon with glee, but be warned: this man has two different, but equally obsessive sides and that’s either love or hate and no in between. He will demand your full attention and will otherwise get outrageously jealous, but even a minor disagreement will flip him into a rage. He will catch you and he will kill you. He’ll laugh about it, then mope for a good half a lifetime.

“Aww, I miss her… I shouldn’t have killed her…”

Horace:

If you even look at him, let alone talk to him, this is what you’re gonna get.

And by the way you’re not the person he’s throwing it at, you’re the chair. 👍

Please send me more scenarios! 😁

#sorry this isn’t complete I’m sick and just posting drafts #other scenarios I’d love to muse so send em in!#I’ll get to requests when I’m caught up on school #the black zodiac #thirteen ghosts #thir13en ghosts #ryan kuhn #jimmy gambino #dark castle entertainment #royce clayton #susan legrow #goats? i mean ghosts #horace mahoney #the breaker #horror movies #my writing #scenario prompt #the torn prince #x reader

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archivist-crow · 6 months

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On this day:

YETI FOOTPRINTS ON MOUNT EVEREST

On November 8, 1951, convincing proof for the existence of Yeti was found in the Himalayas. Eric Shipton and Michael Ward, two British mountain climbers, accompanied by a sherpa named Sen Tensing, were traveling along the southwestern slopes of the Menlung Glacier at 19,000 feet when they discovered an odd set of footprints, quite different from the mountain-goat tracks they had noticed earlier. Shipton photographed the thirteen-inch-long, eight-inch-wide footprints leading to a crevasse and crossing it. The prints were too huge for a bear and too new to have melted, and their size and toe marks suggested they had been made by a biped around eight feet tall. Shipton commented, "What really made my flesh creep was that where we had to jump crevasses you could see clearly where the creature had dug its toes in."

The crisp trail went several miles down the glacier. Based on visual details, it was under twenty-four hours old. Shipton and Ward were making exploratory travels in an uncharted area of the Gauri Sankar mountain range. Due to the lateness of the afternoon and the heavy loads they were carrying, they followed the prints only for a mile or two before resuming their mission. Shipton says that he had tracked the unusual footprints before, but had always lost the trail on the moraine or rocks.

Professor John Napier, formerly of the Smithsonian Institute's primatology department, said that the prints were neither human nor ape. Who they belonged to was unresolved. Zoologist W. Tschernezky of Queen Mary College in London conducted a comprehensive study of the photographs, making a model of the print and comparing it with various primates throughout evolution. The structure of a large second toe and a small metatarsal bone has led some speculators to conclude that the Yeti footprint fulfills the criteria of the "missing link."

Text from: Almanac of the Infamous, the Incredible, and the Ignored by Juanita Rose Violini, published by Weiser Books, 2009

#on this day #cryptozoology #cryptids #yeti #november

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allisluv · 26 days

Text

COMING CLEAN

Chapter one: Thumper

WC: 5.5k

Finnick O’Dair x OC

Dahlia Holloway sat quietly on her porch as morning dawn approached over the horizon. The events of the 67th Hunger Games had followed her back to district nine and almost a decade later, it continued hanging over her head like a black cloud.

Over the years, she had tried every trick in the book to stop the constant buzz of thoughts; writing down what she felt, walking aimlessly through the fields of wheat, having the shower turned up so hot that skin peeled off of her bones. Out of all the things she had tried, knitting was the only hobby that worked.

Every morning, when she had grown tired of staring at her ceiling when it was so apparent that sleep was not coming, she would creep downstairs and slip out onto the patio. It was peaceful and the one place that she could knit without the fear of someone intruding.

It was a neat little way to make money too; while her district was more commonly known for grain, cotton had become another popular crop over the years. Her brother often came home with baskets full of it and she would use it to make clothes.

It failed in comparison to the clothes that the Capitol citizens wore daily but the residents of district nine had more important things to worry about than attaching gems to their cloaks. So long as they had something warm for the winter, they weren't fussy.

Sunlight was beginning to creep up through fields of wheat and grain. Mockingjays had begun to wake up and whistled melodies back and forth while squirrels scurried up tree branches.

"You're determined, huh?"

Dahlia involuntarily flinched before casting a glance over her shoulder, fingers picking up their pace with the needle again. "One of us has got to bring money into the house," she teased lightly, the tension in her shoulders dissolving.

Her eldest brother, River, had always been light on his feet and he shot her a lopsided apologetic smile. A part of him forgot that she would never completely recover from her time in the games. Nowadays, they had to announce their presence rather than sneaking up on her. He had learnt that the hard way and had a broken nose to show for it. "Couldn't sleep?" he leant against the wooden bannister of the porch. She pursed her lips and shook her head. "Me either."

Dahlia silently continued working on her patchwork, refusing to meet his gaze. She felt as though it would burn a hole through her soon enough. Ever since she could remember, River had always been the one who wriggled answers out of her.

It wasn't intentional but he had these intense, prying eyes and sometimes, it felt like he could look straight through her soul. He would undoubtedly be met with the darkness in her chest and thirteen names carved into her heart but she tried not to think about that too often.

Most mornings started like this. Dahlia rocked back and forth in her chair, basking in the sunlight until River eventually graced her with his presence. Those were the mornings where everything felt quiet and she didn't feel so alone anymore.

Dahlia huffed out a sigh and ran a hand through her chocolate curls, flexing out the muscles in her legs. "I better check on the others. I swear to gods, if any one of them has kicked the bucket, I'll lose it," she failed to hide the bluntness in her tone but her brother had become more than accustomed to it.

Pushing through the back door, she slipped inside the house and busied herself with getting everything ready. Grabbing two wicker baskets from under the sink, she began stuffing day-old loaves of bread into them. River had to duck to fit through the doorframe and he grumbled under his breath, disappearing into his bedroom.

For once, she was grateful she had stopped growing before hitting the six-foot mark.

Dahlia crammed strawberries and blackberries into two jars, making sure there was enough to keep her fellow victors going for a little while. Just as she was wrapping up the goat's cheese and containers of fresh water, River shuffled out of his room.

"Here," he held out a packet of frosted cookies and slowly inched them closer to her. She blinked up at him, waiting for an explanation. "I got them from the bakery. Cost me five squirrels. Just leave one for Ivy and split the rest," he explained, running his tongue over his bottom lip impatiently. "I'm trying to be nice so... take it or leave it."

The corners of her lips quirked upwards and she dug her bony elbow into his stomach. "Aw, don't worry, I can take the credit. We wouldn't want you losing that reputation you worked so hard for," she stood on her tip-toes to lightly smack the side of his face, cackling like a mad woman.

He scowled down at her but she could see the hint of a smile trying to break through. Shoving his sister off of him, he narrowed his eyes jokingly. "I thought you were meant to be making sure our neighbours are still with us?" he arched a brow and shooed her out of the house, shoving another loaf of bread into her already overflowing arms.

The door slammed in her face before she had time to spew back a witty comment. He underestimated how soundproof the door was because she could still hear him laughing on the other side. "Bastard," she hissed.

It took some manoeuvring and wobbling on one foot but Dahlia somehow managed to loop the handles of the wicker baskets through her wrists. With a loaf of bread under one arm and a piece of (shoddy) needlework under the other, she trekked towards the other victors in their village.

She passed Juniper Sinclair's house, deciding that it would be easier to bypass it for the moment. Juniper was more than capable of taking care of herself for an hour or so.

Wyatt Riley on the other hand... well, he hadn't been doing too well lately—— and by lately, she meant the last ten years.

Despite her desperate attempts to return some of the light and joy to his house, it never stayed around for very long. His patio was littered with rotten, maggot-infested apples and Dahlia swore that the damn tree had some personal vendetta against her. They'd have to be dealt with later.

Rapping her knuckles against the front door, she didn't bother waiting for an answer. No one else ever visited and this had become a daily routine, so Wyatt wouldn't be caught off guard. Pushing her way inside of the run-down house, the floorboards creaked in a form of protest. "It's just me!"

Another broken mirror lay at the bottom of the staircase and splinters of glass crunched underneath her leather boots as she ventured further inside. It was safe to say he would not be receiving any more mirror-shaped presents from her at this rate; that one had only lasted a week.

She waded her way through rubbish and glass before forcing her way into the kitchen. It was almost pitch-black but there was nothing new there. Fumbling her way around furniture, she easily found the table and set her wicker baskets down. Now was the hard part; finding Wyatt.

Sometimes, the twenty-seven-year-old would be spread out on the floor and other times, he would be tucked behind the fridge. She supposed that he found relief in knowing that no one would find him in his hiding spaces. It was strange but acting oddly came hand in hand with surviving the games. She knew that better than anyone.

Dahlia wasn't in the mood to hunt for him and she let out a sigh of relief when she found him buried in blankets on the sofa. Flicking on the light switch and arming herself with a fire poker, she stood a short distance from the sofa. "Wyatt," she gently prodded him with the poker and waited for an answer. "Wyatt." He snored obnoxiously. "Wyatt!" she groaned, jabbing his ribcage with the poker.

Wyatt jumped out of the sofa with a gasp, wielding a kitchen knife in his hands and blindly flinging it into the air. Dahlia ducked and the knife lodged itself in a cupboard behind her head (and this was why the fire poker was part of their morning routine).

She clutched the fire poker in both hands and held it out in front of her, waiting for the adrenaline high to wear off. After a second, he seemed to get a grip on his surroundings. "It's just me. Are we good?" she arched a brow and brushed stray strands of hair out of her eyes, slowly lowering the weapon.

Wyatt nodded sheepishly, his adam's apple bobbing as he took deep breaths. Running his shaking hands down his face, he quietly muttered reassuring words to himself. Purple bruises were beginning to blossom on the olive skin of his knuckles. Dahlia guessed that was where the broken glass in the hallway had come from. Her heart constricted in her chest and she had to bite down hard on her cheek.

Sometimes, she wondered why she burdened all this extra responsibility on herself. Hell, sometimes she'd much rather let Wyatt rot in his house than deal with him. But then, there were moments like this, when he would mutter into his hands and she knew giving up on him wasn't an option.

Wyatt Riley was the victor of the 66th Hunger Games at eighteen years old. Dahlia remembered the day of his reaping—— she had stood with a crowd of other fifteen-year-old girls, each of them waiting with their hearts stuck in their throats, hoping and praying that they'd make it through another year.

Jasper Riley had been called and suddenly, someone from the crowd was screaming that they volunteered as tribute. The utter desperation in Wyatt's voice had been enough for people to allow him to pass through and then, he was stumbling onto the stage, clutching his chest as though it was going to give out on him.

He had volunteered for his younger brother who had been fourteen when his name was called. Jasper and Wyatt Riley were strangers to Dahlia at the time but she did know that they were kind people— until the games, that was. Wyatt smiled for the cameras when he returned home but there was something different. Something missing.

He used to radiate sunlight. His smile used to reach his eyes and laughter had come as easy as breathing to that boy. But that boy had died in the games. Hollow eyes and frown lines were all he was left with.

She had seen his light return once. Only once; after the games, when he got to reunite with his family. It was a fleeting moment but it was there. Dahlia saw it in his eyes——he had spun his wife, Violet, around in a circle, laughing and giggling as he captured her lips in a kiss. When the newlyweds finally parted, Wyatt had scanned the crowd and practically bolted toward his daughter. Every camera panned in on ten-month-old Isla and her father as he held her close and cried into his wife's shoulder.

She had never seen the light in his eyes again.

When Dahlia was reaped the following year, she was sure she would die in that arena, just like he had. The only living mentor for district nine was a man three years older than her. A half-dead man.

But even with her doubt and her scepticism, he had pulled through. He gave her pointers on appealing to the crowd and an angle to work with. He convinced the sponsors to root for the underdog. He gave her hope. No matter how difficult she made his job, he refused to give up on her.

And she wouldn't give up on him. Not now, not ever.

"I brought you some stuff," she cleared her throat and dug through the first wicker basket she laid eyes on. Kicking her foot at one of the wooden chairs, he obediently sat, a tired look in his honey-brown eyes. Berries, loaves of bread, goat's cheese, water, fresh eggs and cookies were unpacked from the basket. "I'll find some meat later. Swing by if you run out of food."

Wyatt nodded quietly, eyes surveying the mountain of food on his kitchen table. "Thank you," he tugged on his dark curls anxiously, keeping his eyes trained on a broken floorboard beneath his feet. To say that he was grateful for Dahlia Holloway would be a huge understatement. On mornings when exhaustion left him tied to the bed and grief seeped from deep in his bones, she never let him go hungry. And how did he repay her? By aiming a knife at her head.

Dahlia didn't seem to mind, though. She hummed a tune under her breath as she buzzed about his kitchen. Small talk had never been their strong suit and they opted to sit in silence instead. The knife hit the chopping board as she carved the bread into thin slices. Finding a jar of gooseberry jam in the fridge, she slathered it on two of the slices and slid it across the table to him.

"Eat," she ordered, tongue quickly running over the excess jam from the knife. She was sure he would happily starve if she didn't force-feed him.

Wyatt gingerly took the bread, muttering a soft word of thanks. In the time it took for Dahlia to sweep and restore a bit of order to his house, he had finished off another two slices of bread. He got to his feet to help but Dahlia glared over her shoulder and he sunk into the chair again. He was older but he also knew better than to argue with her— talking to a brick wall would be easier.

Pushing herself onto a countertop, she leant forward and cracked open a window to let fresh air in. Dahlia hopped down and wiped her palms in her dark jeans, spinning around to look for Wyatt. He had reclaimed his place on the sofa, curling into the far corner with a baby blanket clutched in his grasp.

She softly padded her way towards him and perched on the edge of the sofa, gently ruffling his dark curls. "It's okay," she whispered, the pad of her thumb running over his bruised knuckles. "It's all okay," she soothed.

They sat like that for the better half of an hour until Wyatt's breathing evened out and he fell asleep. She draped a fluffy blanket over the exposed skin that his baggy sweatshirts didn't manage to cover and started gathering up her belongings.

Balancing the lighter load in her arms, she managed to slip out of the front door without much noise. She kicked the rotten apples off the porch and hoped that the birds would take them off her plate.

Dahlia retraced her steps, trekking towards her final destination of the morning. Pale pink tulips bloomed in the flowerbeds outside of Juniper Sinclair's house, brightening up the young girls' front lawn. Before she could even knock, the door swung wide open and she was almost flattened as Juniper tightly hugged her.

"You're late today," Juniper pointed out, rocking on the balls of her feet as she grabbed Dahlia's hand and pulled her inside the house. A fond smile tugged at Dahlia's lips as she kicked the door closed behind her and followed the bubbly blonde into the kitchen. "Do you want me to take Ivy scavenging today—"

"What the hell is that?" Dahlia cut in, dark eyebrows almost disappearing into her hairline as she stopped in her tracks. Hastily throwing the basket down, she chewed on a fingernail and watched with reproachful eyes.

Juniper squealed excitedly as she bundled the rabbit into her arms, stroking its black and white fur with a gentleness that resembled a mother holding her newborn baby for the first time. "It's a rabbit! My rabbit. His name is Thumper," she explained proudly, wisps of sleek blonde hair framing her face.

Dahlia resisted the urge to roll her eyes—— the last thing she wanted to do was upset the seventeen-year-old. If she had learnt one thing about Juniper, it was that the victor was easily upset. At the start, it got on her nerves but she grew more sympathetic when she realized that it wasn't an act—— it was simply part of who Juniper Sinclair was.

Instead, she folded her arms across her chest, eyeing the rabbit suspiciously as if it would launch itself out of Juniper's arms and start attacking. "Alright, cliché name aside, whats it doing in here?" she asked flatly, waving a dismissive hand about. "Please don't tell me you wanna keep it, June," she groaned, digging her fingers into her temples.

Juniper wrinkled her nose in confusion and the freckles dotted across her cheeks dipped. "Well... I've named him now," she frowned, taking her bottom lip between her teeth. "I'm keeping him," she paused as if she was hesitating on speaking. "I get lonely in this house. It just reminds me that I'm alone, I guess," she admitted, ducking her head to hide her flaming cheeks.

Dahlia's stomach was doing flips and bile burned the back of her throat. Memories raced through her head at the speed of light; kneeling on the grass outside of Victors Village as Juniper buried her face in Dahlia's jacket, sobbing and screaming.

Now, a year and a half later, she felt crescent moons forming in the skin of her palms as she tried to stay tied to the present. She couldn't dwell on it. Falling apart wasn't an option at this point.

Regardless of whether they kept it together or not, it wouldn't bring back their loved ones. Wyatt wouldn't get back his wife or his daughter. While Juniper may have managed to escape the clutches of the repulsive Capitol men, she was still an orphan.

Dahlia, on the other hand, had refused to sell herself to snobby Capitol citizens and in turn, traumatized her younger sister when she watched their parents be slaughtered. The final nail in the coffin, really, was that Snow had still managed to keep her under his thumb.

All he had to do was flaunt the threat of harming Ivy or River and before she knew it, she was being pulled back to her hotel room by a man who left bills on the dresser instead of saying goodbye.

Rolling her shoulders back, she clenched her toes in her boots and cleared her throat. "Alright. So long as you look after it, I don't mind, June," she shrugged a shoulder and turned her back but not before Juniper pumped her fist in the air excitedly. "What's a rabbit meant to eat anyway?" she mused, rummaging about inside of the wicker baskets.

Juniper placed the newest member of her admittedly non-existent family into a cardboard box and slid up onto the countertop beside the baskets. "Haven't got a clue," Juniper yanked her cream-coloured cardigan up over her slender shoulders. She rested her chin in the palm of her hand and Dahlia shot a pointed look her way. "I'll figure it out! He might like ice cream or bread or something!"

Dahlia's mouth fell agape and she had to fight back a laugh—— Juniper may have been cunning and a fighter, but god she lacked common sense at times. "June, if you want that rabbit to stick around, you don't feed it ice cream," she started searching the cupboards and checking expiry dates. "I think they eat grass and lettuce."

"Are you sure you're not trying to kill him?" June raised an eyebrow and tapped her fingers against her kneecaps as Dahlia chucked a gone-off banana out of the window for the birds. "Five minutes ago, you told me to get rid of him and now you're telling me about his dietary restrictions."

Dahlia snorted at the comment and playfully swatted her in the face with a tea towel. "I'm not trying to kill him, you idiot."

There was never a dull moment in Juniper's presence and today was no exception. As Dahlia restocked the pantry, she rambled on about every thought entering that little head of hers. Every so often, she would ask if she should stop talking and every time, the woman insisted that it was fine. She couldn't begin to imagine how isolated June felt at times.

Despite her bubbly personality, Juniper lacked in the friend department. She was the victor of the 73rd Hunger Games but, unfortunately, it didn't win her any brownie points with teenagers her age. Most of them claimed she was too much, too exhausting to be around, and her friendships usually fizzled out after six months.

Ivy was the only exception——Dahlia's younger sister and Juniper were like two peas in a pod. Both Dahlia and River had been slightly worried that it might end in tears but so far, they had been best friends for two and a half years (despite the two being polar opposites).

Once the cupboards were stuffed full of juicy berries, gooey pastries and tins of ripe tomatoes, Dahlia eyed up the rabbit once more, trying to make up her mind on it. So long as she didn't have to take care of it, she supposed it didn't matter. She didnt have a say in the matter, technically speaking, yet June nearly always ran things by her anyway.

Maybe it was because Dahlia had been her mentor in the games. In the last two years, she had grown fond of the younger girl, to tell the truth. Or maybe it was because Dahlia was the closest thing to a mother that she had left. Either way, she wouldn't tell her what to do unless it was something irrevocably stupid—- and a rabbit didn't exactly fall into that category.

She dragged her attention away from the rabbit and back to the girl, who was too quiet for Dahlia's liking. "What's wrong with you?" she interrogated, hands on her hips. "Come on June, spit it out," she impatiently dug her fingers into her hipbone.

June hesitated, slowly starting to rock back and forth on the counter. "Do you think our tributes will stand a chance this year?" she murmured, green eyes staring blankly ahead. There was no answer and she cracked her knuckles to fill the silence. "I mean, it's a quarter quell, isn't it? What do you think the catch is gonna be?" she shuffled back on the countertop until her spine hit the wall.

"I don't know," she muttered truthfully. Her answer did little to soothe the blonde's nerves. She didn't have all the answers but she backtracked all the same. "Well, it's four months away. I haven't thought about it, really."

She leaned against the oven, close enough to feel the lumpy dials digging into her pelvis. "Hey, at least it's not us," she teased, draping an arm around the girl's shoulders. "We're gonna do what we do best—- we'll teach them how to fight and we'll work our pretty little asses off to win them sponsors. That's all we can do. Got it?"

She chastely kissed the crown of Juniper's head and squeezed her shoulders before struggling to her feet. "Now, are you walking me out or do I have to do that on my own and all?" she raised a dark brow jokingly.

If Juniper was still upset, it didn't show. She hopped her way to the front door, dragging her feet along the tiles and grabbing hold of Dahlia's bicep when she remembered something she so desperately forgot to tell her.

Dahlia knew what she was doing—— it was obvious that she didn't want to be left on her own for the rest of the day (and, let's be honest, subtle was not in that girl's vocabulary). Nevertheless, she hummed when it fit the context and nodded without missing a beat.

If the years she had spent socializing with the people in the Capitol had taught her anything, it was how to fake a conversation she had absolutely no interest in. After an agonizing ten minutes, she stepped onto the porch and into the warm stream of sunlight before a shadow got in her way.

"Hello, hello, hello my darlings!"

District nines escort, Malaki, traipsed his way down the driveway, flashing the girls a dazzling smile as he approached. Once he was close enough, he grabbed a hold of Juniper's hands, squeezing them gently. "My god. You need to stop growing, Juney," he tutted. There was no malice in his voice—— there never was, not when it came to Malaki.

He turned on Dahlia next, picking up a few limp and loose strands of hair. "Bloom's gonna kill you, y'know that right?" he frowned, letting his hands drop to his hips once more.

As if on cue, a blood-curdling scream came from the woman behind him, followed by the frenzied clack of eight-inch heels.

Bloom clutched at her chest and Malaki had to slip a hand around her waist to keep her steady. "Oh my god, I need a drink already," she murmured between heavy breaths.

Within a split second, she was manhandling Dahlia, angling her head and prodding her cheekbones. "You need to give me something to work with, darling. It's the same every month," she complained, rubbing the crease between her brows.

Bloom began ordering about her gaggle of assistants, hysterically screeching that they were at least twelve hours behind schedule now. Dahlia chanced a glance at Malaki and it took every ounce of self-control that she possessed to not burst into laughter. That would certainly send her stylist into a breakdown.

Bloom's entourage of assistants were drenched with sweat from hauling bulky suitcases from the train. Admittedly, the train couldn't be any closer to Victors Village, but Bloom couldn't fathom the concept of packing light and it showed.

With aching arms and forceful pants of exasperation, the assistants began carrying the supplies up the hill leading to the Holloway house. Dahlia's house wasn't far— less than a minute away from June's, to be exact— and it was more a slope than a hill but with the amount of equipment her stylist had packed, she wasn't surprised by their lack of enthusiasm.

"Don't tell me you forgot about today," Malaki raised an accusing brow in her direction but she brushed him off with a roll of her eyes. "You're lucky Bloom hasn't caught on yet," he continued, checking his golden watch to double-check how long they had to pack. "You may be able to fool our little redheaded friend, but not me, my darling. I know everything."

Dahlia suppressed a smile by clamping her lips shut. He was right. He nearly always was. She had forgotten and Bloom would lose it if she found out.

Malaki always knew people better than they knew themselves.

If Bloom was fretting over a new outfit, he knew how to put her mind at rest. When Dahlia was searching for an escape route out of a particularly painful and uncomfortable conversation, he would glide onto the scene and sweep her away without anyone batting an eyelid.

Malaki wasn't scared of calling people out when they were in the wrong. He knew what to say and when to say it.

"How long does the Capitol need me to stay for?" she couldn't hide the bitterness in her tone as she kicked a pebble into the air. She narrowly missed hitting the back of Bloom's shins and made a mental note to keep her anger at bay before her stylist tripped in her ridiculous heels and broke an ankle— or worse, a nail.

"A week," Malaki replied, choosing to bite the bullet rather than sugar-coating the truth. He didn't scold her for her tone, not when her anger was directed in exactly the right place. "Since our star-crossed lovers won the games, there's been parties in the Capitol all night, every night."

He paused, fingers moving to toy with his lip ring. If he wanted to approach the subject, he needed to take precautions. What she was forced to do on her visits to the Capitol was a sour and sensitive topic and one that she didn't talk about. "I know it's not gonna be a lot of comfort, my darling, but at least you somehow managed to escape some of the parties until now."

She didn't answer for fear of what would come out of her mouth. She knew that he was trying to make her feel better but the reality was that nothing was going to ever make this better.

She sucked in a steadying breath and tried to remain focused as her house grew closer with each step that she took. "Yeah, you're right. Thanks," she choked out the words, offering him a tight-lipped smile.

Malaki gave her a curt nod. He didn't push her for a further answer and chose to walk in silence while the pair caught up with Bloom and her assistants.

Dahlia worked her way through the miniature sea of people gathering at her front door, each one of them slightly skittish. She couldn't blame them— Ivy and River had a history of being... hostile when it came to her prep team.

She debated asking them to wait outside but decided against it. Hopefully, she could gather her things and leave as quickly as possible. Ushering the group into the warmth of her hallway, she racked her brain for a plausible excuse that would satisfy her brother.

"What the hell are they doing here?"

Looked like she was out of time to think. Closing the door behind her, she let out a sigh and turned to face her brother's temper. "Dial it down, for gods sake," she huffed under her breath, returning his glare with just as much discontentment. Shoving her brother out of the back door and onto the patio, she left her team to their own devices in the living room.

River's eyes were blazing with anger but she knew it wasn't directed at her. No, it was aimed at the people who were associated with the Capitol, a group of rich and selfish people who had stolen his parents from him. His jaw was clenched so tightly that it ached. "How long are they here for this time?" he snapped, knuckles white from holding onto his bicep.

"Not long. I have to go to the Capitol for a week," she folded her arms over her chest shamefully. "I can tell Ivy that I have to do planning for the quarter quell or something," she pinched the bridge of her nose, head throbbing with pain.

While River knew about her... arrangement with the president, Ivy was unaware of why she was called back to the Capitol every month.

Ivy was seventeen and her older siblings had agreed that there was no need for her to know. She was still so young. She had a couple of childhood years left—and Dahlia was damn certain that the Capitol didn't get to take those, not when they had robbed her family of so much already.

River's eyes softened ever so slightly and he sighed through parted lips. "I'll come up with an excuse for Ivy. I'll look after Wyatt and Juniper, too, there's no need to worry about them," he said softly, rubbing at the crease between his brows.

"Just—— be careful, yeah?" he dragged a hand down the length of his face. He moved a bit too quickly for Dahlia's liking and she flinched without thinking. He muttered an apology under his breath, taking a step out of her space. "You better bring me back those scones I like, alright?" he teased, trying to break cut up the tension in the air. He lay a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

His touch began to burn and she wriggled out of his grasp, grinding her teeth. He didn't take it personally; between the Hunger Games and the men in the Capitol, she couldn't stand being touched.

Dahlia endured the physical contact whenever it was asked of her but if she could avoid it, she did. Ivy and River had witnessed one too many of her episodes to bother being offended at this point.

She wrung her hands together anxiously and craned her neck to peer through the glass panel in the back door.

Malaki ran his fingers over a painting that hung on the wall while Bloom hastily dashed about, scolding her assistants for messing with precious valuables.

Dahlia pulled her sleeves over her hands and turned her attention away from her prep team. "I should get going before Bloom pops a blood vessel." She made a start for the door but paused. "River?"

"Yeah?"

"Please don't let June feed that rabbit ice cream."

#grace talks🐚🌷#the hunger games #wlw #thg #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair fluff #finnick odair smut #catching fire #mockingjay #coming clean #dahlia holloway

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