#bc i like them so much & they apparently take very little time to heal

[atlabeth]

(they all say that) it gets better | luke castellan

bleedin' me dry for context (this is that reader's origin story!!)

summary: a look into your unclaimed year.

a/n: does it still count as fluff if you already know it doesn’t end well? idk but i’m having fun writing for this pair so it’s okay. i hope you guys are enjoying reading them!! this ended up becoming a hell of a lot longer than i thought it would be but these kind of one shots are my faves to write lol

title from teenage dream by olivia rodrigo bc apparently guts teenage angst works very well for a demigod who feels like they're worthless and unwanted for a good period of time!! shoutout to the gods

wc: 11.4k JESUS

warning(s): fem!child of demeter reader. typical anger at the gods, but luke is actually pretty sweet! crazy. mostly hurt/comfort, reader is going through it at the beginning (mentions of injuries and almost dying), honestly she's going through it the whole time but luke is very nice to her lol. barely proofread bc proofing 34 pages is a nightmare !!

It was your first day as a demigod and you were already off to a bad start. 

You didn’t remember much, obviously. There was a lot of stumbling, barely held up by your satyr as you crossed the border, and then full on collapsing. Somehow you managed to stay conscious all the way to the infirmary, enough to hear shocked murmurs from the people-like blobs around you and terrified, whispered affirmations from your satyr as he ran along with whoever was carrying you. 

You didn’t remember much. But you do remember thinking what a shameful existence it would be to die at fourteen. 

And now you were sitting in an uncomfortable cot, staring at the wall and counting divots. The first half of your visit was only there in flashes as you drifted in and out of consciousness, but now, unfortunately, you were fully awake. You belatedly wondered how many other kids began their camp life with a stay at the infirmary. 

The thought was dashed from your head as you jolted and cried out in sudden pain, and you shot daggers with your glare at the boy next to you.  

“Sorry.” The boy fixing you up was about your age, and he almost seemed to glow from within. “You dislocated your shoulder—I was popping it back into place.”

“You could have warned me,” you seethed.

“I did,” he said, and when he placed his hands on your shoulder they actually did glow. “You just weren’t listening.”

“...Sorry,” you said after a moment. “I’m having a rough day.” 

He shook his head with a slight smile. “It’s expected.” 

“It’ll be okay,” your satyr said, and some of the tension left your shoulders as you looked over at Tate. He’d been by your side for the past two weeks of disasters, and you’d saved each other’s lives more times than you could count. You were just thankful he didn’t have to watch you die. “Jace is one of camp’s best healers. You’re in good hands.” 

You nodded, not wanting to cause any more problems, so you bit your lip and bit your tongue and let him heal the rest of your injuries in silence. He was done soon enough, and you could feel both their eyes on you as you rifled through your backpack. Thankfully, Tate brought it in as you were dying. Your own blood stained the nylon. 

“How do you feel?” Tate asked anxiously. 

“Better,” you said, tearing your eyes away from it as you continued making sure all your belongings were still there. “A lot better. Not like there’s much competition.”

Tate chuckled, and Jace picked up a small bag from the bedside table and handed it to you—it looked like there were little pieces of fudge inside. “Here.” 

“What’s this?” you asked as you took it. 

“Ambrosia,” he said. “Wait a few hours before you have a piece, and only have a little if you feel a lot of pain. I already gave you nectar while you were out, and the last thing we need is you burning up.” 

You looked at Tate with raised eyebrows and he smiled a bit. “Ambrosia and nectar are the food of the gods. It heals demigods in small portions, but take too much and you’ll get a fever. Worst case scenario, you’ll literally burn up from the inside.” 

“Oh,” you said, and you stuffed the bag into your pack before zipping it up. “I’ll… I’ll wait.” 

“Probably a good idea,” Jace said, and he looked over at your satyr as he stood up. “I’ve gotta get back to my sword-fighting lessons. Can you give her a tour?” 

He shook his head. “I have to debrief with Chiron and Mr. D. There were some… rough things on the road.” Tate looked at you. “I’ll be back in thirty minutes— are you sure you’ll be okay?” 

“It’s fine,” you said with a smile. “Do your thing. I’ll look around some, then we’ll find each other later.” 

Tate nodded thankfully and went through an open door opposite your bed, and Jace gave you a tight smile as he started to put away all the medical supplies he used on you. You sighed, slung your bag over your shoulder, and walked out. 

You shut the door behind you and blinked rapidly as you tried to adjust to the sunlight. Then, you heard someone sigh. 

“Thank the gods you’re okay.” 

You turned to see a boy standing up from the wall. Dark curls hung just above his eyes, a contrast to his tanned skin, slightly red from exertion. He was wearing the same bright orange shirt that your healer was—Camp Halfblood, it said in curved text. He was far too pretty for his own good. 

“I’m the one who carried you in,” he said, and you realized you were frowning. “Wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“Oh,” you said. “That’s… that’s nice of you.” 

“It’s been a while since we’ve gotten someone new,” he said. “Even longer since they’ve had such a dramatic entrance.” 

You shrugged. You didn’t exactly know what to say to this boy. “Sorry.” 

He paused for a moment, and then he nodded. “Not one for conversation. That’s fine.” 

“I did almost just die,” you said wryly. “I’m fresh out of icebreakers at the moment.” 

“Maybe I can help with that.” He held out his hand. “Luke Castellan. Head Counselor of the Hermes cabin, and apparent rescuer of damsels.” 

You huffed a laugh as you stared at him. “I’m a damsel?” 

“I’d say you were in as much distress as someone could be back there,” he said with a shrug. “I practically saved your life. I think that deserves a handshake.” 

The slightest bit of tension dissolved from your shoulders and you shook his hand. His smile grew. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked, dropping his hand. “You were pretty rough when I found you.” 

“Better,” you said, though you grimaced a bit as you tested your shoulder, and you decided to switch your pack to your other side. “Whoever that guy in the infirmary is, he’s good.” 

Luke nodded. “Son of Apollo—they’ve got healing abilities. Very useful when we’re all constantly getting injured.” 

Your brows knit together. “So it really is all real.” 

“You were nearly dead on our doorstep, and from those claw marks I’m guessing it wasn’t just a bad fall.” Luke offered a wry smile. “I’m sure you’ve known it’s all real for a while.” 

“Of course,” you said. “It’s just weird to really know that it’s all real. To see all of you, really. Just knowing I’m not alone.” 

He nodded. “That’s the best thing about it, knowing you’re not alone.” He looked around at your surroundings—various campers chatting as they walked with each other (some glancing at you as they went by), distant shouts and cheers, and a perfectly blue sky matching the perfectly blue house you just left. 

“I’d say the worst thing about it is feeling like I still have no idea what’s going on,” you said. “Unless the gods exist just to be deadbeats. That’d be disappointing.” 

Luke actually laughed at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and you found yourself smiling a bit. “I can tell we’re gonna get along.” 

Your own smile returned—it was like his joy was infectious. “You think so?” 

“I know so,” he nodded. “Just… try not to throw the gods’ names around like that. They don’t like to be talked about unless they’re being revered.” 

You huffed. “Sounds like an interesting place.” 

“Camp Halfblood,” he provided, and he gestured around you with his hand. “Keeping young heroes safe for over three millennia.” 

“What,” you said wryly, “are you their PR guy?” 

Luke laughed and shook his head. “It’s something Chiron likes to say.”

“You’re the second person to mention Chiron,” you said. “Who exactly is he?” 

“You haven’t gotten a tour yet?” 

You gave him a look. “Come on. You carried me in. You think I could have gotten a tour between then and now?” 

“Fair,” he admitted, and he tilted his head. “I can give you one, if you’re so inclined.” 

“I said I would wait for Tate,” you said. “He’s my satyr— I figure I owe it to him.” 

“C’mon,” Luke said. “He’s meeting Chiron and Mr. D—that’ll take long enough on its own, and if we don’t get out of here soon enough, you’re gonna get dragged into a whole other conversation with them. At least this way, you can get a little bit of downtime before all the lore of this place is dropped on you.” 

You bit your lip, and then you sighed and nodded. “Fine. But it can’t take too long.” 

Luke smiled and held up three fingers. “Halfblood’s honor.” 

-

You didn’t know where to start.

There were far more people than you expected, not nearly enough beds for all of them, and half were talking and a quarter were fighting and the others were just completely unfazed. All you could do when you walked in was stare.

“You get used to it,” Luke said, glancing over at you. “Everyone’s nice, I promise—just keep a hand on your pockets.” 

You frowned. “Why?” 

He gave you a crooked smile. “Hermes is the god of thieves. We learn by experience in this cabin.” 

Your hands instinctively reached back to the pockets of your jeans, despite the fact that you hardly had anything to your name. “Why do they put the new, naive kids in here again?” 

“God of travellers, too—all are welcome.” Luke saw your hand shoot to your pocket and laughed. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone mess with you too much—for now, at least.” 

“Oh, good,” you said lightly. “The hazing doesn’t start until later.” 

Luke smiled as he continued to guide you through the cabin, nodding to and greeting campers with equal parts names and handshakes as he walked past them. You got just as many stares as Luke did hellos, and your skin crawled at the attention. 

“Why are they all looking at me?” you whispered to him. 

“Like I said, you’re the first new camper in a while.” Luke glanced at you. “News spreads fast, especially in this wreck of a place.” 

“It’s not that bad,” you said , but your grip tightened on your backpack strap. “Just very busy.”

“That’s what happens when they shove everyone in here,” Luke said. “All are welcome means all are welcome—Hermes kids, unclaimed kids, and kids of minor gods.”

You frowned. “Minor gods don’t have cabins?” 

“This place is as much for us as it is in honor of the gods,” he said. “Twelve cabins for twelve Olympians. They don’t see it as a problem, therefore we can’t see it as a problem.” 

You decided to bite your tongue, but you couldn’t hide your sigh. “I guess I’m gonna be here for the time being.” 

He looked you up and down, and all you could think was that you must look like an absolute disaster. “I’m guessing you fall into the unclaimed.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line, a sad attempt at a smile. “Yeah, but I just got here—I bet my mom doesn’t even know it yet. Gods are busy.”

“They’re also omniscient,” Luke said wryly. “I’m sure she could have claimed you the second you crossed the border. Your parent could’ve given you a little divine intervention and kept you from nearly dying on the hill.”

“Well, I’m here for now,” you said with a bit too much force, and your nails dug into your palms. “So do you mind showing me around?” 

Luke stared at you for a moment before he smiled. “‘Course not. I can also give you a quick tour of camp too, if you haven’t already gotten one.”

You shook your head. “Only the infirmary.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “you heal up well.”

“I don’t think that’s a credit to me,” you said. “I think it’s whatever magical drink that healer gave me while he was trying to bring me back. Tasted like pecan pie.”

“Nectar,” he said as he started walking, and you followed behind him. “Drink  of the gods that heals demigods in small portions. It tastes like your favorite food—same as ambrosia.” He stopped in an empty corner and looked at you. “You like pecans?”

You shrugged, suddenly self conscious. “My dad makes it the best.”

“I hope you’ll be able to get the real thing soon,” he said, and then he gestured with a flourish at the same empty corner. “Welcome to your new home.”

You stared at him. “This is the floor.”

“We’re a little overbooked,” Luke said sheepishly. “If it makes you feel better, we’ve got sleeping bags. And this is a top tier corner. Quieter than the others.”

“…Great,” you said. “I feel very welcome.”

“I’m sorry.” To his credit, he sounded like he meant it. “Bunch of unclaimed kids, couple kids of minor gods, couple Hermes kids—it all kinda adds up to a mess.”

“...It’ll be better than camping,” you said, though mostly to yourself as you took your bag off your shoulder and let it thud to the ground. 

“Hey,” Luke said, and his voice was softer, “it’ll be okay. With any luck, your parent’ll notice you now that you’re at camp, and you’ll be claimed before you know it.” 

“I hope so,” you murmured. 

“Luke, who’s the new girl?” 

A boy with curls just as good as Luke’s walked up and clapped him on the back, smiling at you in a way that instantly set you at ease. He also wore the orange camp shirt, with long tan sleeves below that he’d pushed up to his forearms. He had kind eyes. 

Luke said your name, his own smirk on his lips as he looked back at you. “You’ve probably heard about her dramatic entrance by now, but she’s the newest resident of the Hermes cabin.”

“Unclaimed or your sibling?” he asked. 

“...Unclaimed,” you said yourself. You hadn’t even been here for more than two hours and it already felt like your own brand of shame.  

He repeated your name with a nod and held out his hand. “I’m Chris,” he said. “Fellow unclaimed kid.”

A little bit less of a scarlet letter, at least. You swallowed your budding insecurity and shook his hand. “Sounds like a shitty club to be in.”

He snorted. “You’re telling me.”

“How— how long has it been?” you asked hesitantly, almost afraid to know the answer. 

His lips pressed into a tight smile. “Couple years.” 

“Gods,” you murmured. You didn’t know if you’d be able to wait that long. It had been hard enough already growing up without one—if your mother was just out of reach after all this time, you would surely lose your mind. 

“Don’t worry,” Chris said, his expression softening a bit. “It won’t take that long for you. I can tell.” 

“That’s what Luke said,” you responded wryly. “Do I give off a vibe that says ‘I’m unwanted, but not for too long’?” 

Luke laughed and shook his head. “I promise, it’s all gonna be okay. I’ve been the counselor here for a couple months—kids get claimed all the time. I bet you’re next on the list.” 

“Maybe,” you said. You didn’t believe it as much as they did—if they did at all. 

You heard the door open and your head automatically turned to the noise, and you felt the heat rush to your cheeks in embarrassment as Tate came through, slightly out of breath. You stared at Luke—he said thirty minutes at least. He just shrugged. 

“I figured you would be here,” Tate said, his chest rising and falling just so as he walked—trotted?—inside. “You didn’t exactly wait.” 

You opened your mouth to speak up, but Luke beat you, already putting on a charming smile. “Sorry. We got to talking, and then I offered to show her around the Hermes cabin. Just so she  could put her things down, y’know.” 

“‘Course,” Tate nodded. “That— that was probably a good idea. Would have been bad if you got lost or something.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, and you went to pick your bag up. “Luke said you would be talking for a lot longer— I was going to come back after I was done with this.”

Tate shook his head. That nervous energy from the worst parts of the road was back, and you wondered how badly the talk with Chiron and Mr. D went. “No, it was a good idea. Better than you getting lost around camp or caught up with some troublemakers. Thanks, Luke.” 

“‘Course,” he said. 

“Not sure she’s in much better hands with Luke,” Chris said wryly. “He’s head troublemaker in the cabin of troublemakers.” 

Luke just chuckled and shook his head. “It’s her first day. I wouldn’t let anything happen to her.” 

You were only able to glance at Luke for a moment before your attention was drawn back to Tate as he gestured outside with his head. “Chiron’s waiting outside. He wants to talk to you some before the tour.” 

And now you had to deal with it too. “...Great,” you said. You set your bag back on the ground, in your newly coveted corner.  

“It’ll be fine,” Tate promised. “You already went through Hades to get here— he’s not gonna pile on you more. That’s why Mr. D is back at the Big House.” 

This time, you did look at Luke. Thankfully, he understood. 

“Dionysus,” he explained. “He’s our camp director.” 

You blinked. “The god?” 

“Yep,” he nodded. “Punishment from Zeus. Not the worst gig, but he’s… interesting.” 

“Great,” you repeated, because you didn’t feel like processing that at the moment, and you looked back at Tate. “You’ll be with me, right?” 

He nodded. “Not for the talk, but for the tour.” 

You let out a loose breath, because it was going to be fine. He was just the authority figure of the one safe place in the world for you, and you were just an annoying kid that had no idea what the hell was going on. 

“Great,” you said for the third time. You looked back at Luke. “I’ll see you around?” 

He smiled and bowed his head. “Definitely. You do kinda live here indefinitely now.” 

You nodded, more relieved than you wanted to show, and you started following Tate out.

You heard Chris mutter something to Luke, and you turned your head in time to see Luke jab him in the side. His head perked up when you laughed, and his whole expression changed as his smile returned and he did a little wave. 

You couldn’t help but smile back as you did the same, and you left the cabin with a little pep in your step. 

—

“You promise you’ll be safe.” 

“Yes, Tate,” you said with a slight laugh. “The worst is already over—you got me here, and we’re both alive. I’m gonna be fine.” 

“I know,” he said, and he managed his own smile. “I’m just worried about you. You don’t spend two weeks on the road fighting for your life with someone and not get a little attached.” 

“You’ll be back here, right?” you asked. “I know your whole thing as a Protector, but you’ve gotta drop the demigods off too, right?” 

“Of course I’ll be back,” he promised. “It… just might be a while. You’re the third demigod I’ve gotten to camp safely, now—Chiron’s trusting me with a bigger mission. It might be a couple months, but I’ll be back.” 

“And you’re telling me to be safe,” you said wryly. 

“I’ve been doing this for a while,” he said. “You just got here.” 

“I know,” you said, and you pulled him into a hug. “Just don’t get killed out there.” 

Tate laughed and patted you on the back before he pulled away. “So long as you don’t killed out here.” 

“Thanks for everything,” you said with a nod. 

“Thank you,” he said, and he gestured at the pavilion with his head. “Now get over there and make some friends. I’ll see you around.” 

You hugged him one last time before you reluctantly went off, and you looked back to wave him goodbye before you really started on your way. 

Your head still spun with all the information Chiron and Tate had imparted on you—so much about Greek mythology (and how it was all real), ADHD and dyslexia (and how they weren’t just there to make your life harder), your godly parent (who would hopefully claim you within the month) and so much more that you knew you would forget in an hour or two. 

And Chiron’s talk. God, it felt more like you were in the principal’s office than anything, even though he was nothing but kind. You couldn’t help but be overwhelmed from it all, and though the talk was probably meant to stave some of that anxiety off, it really didn’t. 

But you’d always felt out of place all your life. And now you were finally where you were meant to belong—that had to count for something. 

Tate had dropped you off at the pavilion—nearly dying had taken a lot out of you, and it just happened to be lunch—and just as you neared the tables and realized you had no idea where to sit, your eyes were drawn to a boy raising his hand and calling your name. 

You looked over and saw that it was Luke, the counselor from earlier, and you couldn’t help but smile. True to his word. 

You weaved your way through various campers and around tables full of kids to finally stop next to Luke’s table—Chris, the guy from earlier, sat across from him, and they both smiled at you. 

“How’d the tour go?” he asked. 

“Fine,” you said with a nod. “A little overwhelming, but better than I thought.” You pulled at your new camp shirt, the fabric noticeably brighter than a majority of those around you. “I match now, at least.”

“Orange suits you,” Luke remarked, and he patted the open spot next to him. “Sit down—stay for a while.”

You chuckled as you sat down. You still felt out of place, but at least they weren’t going to hang you out to dry. “Bright orange seems like an odd choice when we’re trying to stay hidden.”

“Probably so Chiron doesn’t lose us,” he joked. “This place is huge, and there’s a lot of us. When the newest camper gets turned around in the woods during capture the flag and nearly dies to a monster, it’s easier to find them.”

You frowned, and you must’ve not been very good at hiding your panic because Chris shook his head.

“Luke, you’re scaring her. She’s already been through enough.” 

“Don’t worry,” Luke said, patting you on the shoulder. “Just a little halfblood humor. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

“It doesn’t feel that way,” you said wryly. “It feels like I nearly died four hours ago and now I have no idea who anyone is or what to do.”

“Not true,” Chris spoke up, and he smiled. “You know us.”

“I’ll look out for you,” Luke promised. “And pretty soon, you’re gonna be good enough to look out for me.”

You let out a long lasting sigh. “God, I hope so.” 

—

“You’re not holding it right.” 

You adjusted your hold on the hilt, resisting the urge to wipe away the bead of sweat dripping down your forehead and the even stronger urge to hit him. 

“You’re still not holding it right.” 

Your teeth grinded together as you turned to look at Luke. “Are you gonna actually help me, or just stand there judgmentally?” 

“I dunno,” he said. “The weather’s pretty good over here.” 

You groaned and moved your non-dominant hand closer to the pommel, shifting your other down as well. “Is this worthy of your approval, Your Majesty?” 

Luke chuckled as he walked over to you, and you could feel the calluses on his hands as he adjusted your form with slight touches to your arms. “It is acceptable, my lady, but your posture is not.” 

“I don’t know how so many people at this camp like you,” you grumbled. “This is awful, and so are you.” 

He smiled. “You’ve been here for two weeks. Give yourself some grace.” 

“I’ve spent one of those trying and failing at the most basic basics of sword-fighting,” you said. “I spent the past hour losing to an Ares kid who I’m pretty sure actually wanted to kill me.” You looked over at Luke. “Thanks for that, by the way.” 

“Trial by fire,” he supplied. “You’re still alive, so obviously you’re doing something right.” 

“Yeah, probably because you’re here,” you said. “You can’t just kill someone when their counselor’s standing right next to them. It’s bad publicity.” 

Luke huffed a laugh and shook his head as he crossed his arms. “Stop talking down on yourself. You managed to make it here with a couple monster attacks on the way—what’d you use then?” 

“I started off with a screwdriver I stole from the garage before Tate and I left,” you said. “And then I stole a hunting knife from some outdoor store. Not exactly top-tier.” 

“Lotta stealing,” Luke chuckled. “Maybe you are a Hermes kid.” 

“They nearly caught me,” you said. “Definitely not.” 

“Regardless of thievery, you still survived,” he continued. “You’re not a bonafide swordsman, that’s fine. But you’re resourceful, creative—scrappy in a fight is just what we need sometimes.” 

“Great,” you mumbled. “I’m ‘scrappy’.” 

“It’s a compliment,” he promised. “If we were all sword-fighters, we wouldn’t get far. Someone like you is gonna do us a lot of good.” 

“If I don’t die before I even get out to the battlefield.” You knocked the helmet off of one of the straw dummies with your sword and sighed as it clattered to the ground. “This is the only enemy I stand a chance against.”

“You’re thinking too much about it all,” Luke said. “You’re literally wired for battle—didn’t you feel it during your fights on the way to camp?”

You shrugged. You guess you did—you remember not even taking the time to analyze the situation, just knowing your lives were in danger and finally feeling the ever-present jitters in your bones settle for the first time. 

“It was rough,” you finally said. “But… it did feel like I knew what I was doing. Like my body understood it all even when my mind was still a couple steps behind.”

“And that was without training, and with,” Luke huffed an incredulous laugh, “a screwdriver. Just imagine what you’ll be able to do with actual Celestial bronze and actual training.” 

“…I think I remember why people like you,” you said reluctantly. “And why I liked you.” 

Luke grinned as he stood up. “That’s the spirit.” He picked up the fallen helmet and placed it back on the dummy, then looked at you. “I think I’ve put you through enough suffering. Let’s get lunch.”

“So a compliment was all it took for me to get out of this?” you asked in exasperation, gesturing with your sword as you worked to undo the ties on your armor with your other hand. 

“Exactly,” he mused, and he took the sword from you to store it away. “I don’t get nearly enough compliments these days, y’know. Sometimes you end up taking that out on campers that don’t know how to swordfight.” 

“Luke Castellan,” you grumbled as you finally got your breastplate off, “you are a piece of work.” 

He winked. “Thank you.” 

—

You didn’t think you were built for this life. 

It was the only thought running through your head as you sat at a crowded Hermes table, absentmindedly picking at fruit with your fork as you stared off into the distance.

You’d been at Camp Halfblood for a month now, but it had already felt like a lifetime. 

You’d managed to make a few friends—a Demeter girl who grew you a bouquet of your favorite flowers as a consolation prize for fighting dirty during training; an Athena boy who told you whatever interesting fact popped into his head first every time you ran into each other; the Hebe girl who had the misfortune to have the corner opposite you in the Hermes cabin and showed you skincare tips once in a while. 

Throw in a smattering of Hermes and unclaimed kids and a counselor that seemed determined to make you smile, and you weren’t as lonely as you thought you’d be. 

You were learning how to fight in your own way. Luke was right—you weren’t a swordsman, but you were damn good up close and personal. He’d taken you to the camp armory, you found a Celestial bronze dagger that spoke to you, and from then on you’d actually been doing well in training.

Your corner of the Hermes cabin didn’t feel as sad anymore, either. Luke took you to the camp store for retail therapy after you nearly burned your jeans off on the climbing wall, so now you had an AC/DC poster (courtesy of the little money you had) and an I ❤️ NY keychain to attach to your backpack (courtesy of Luke’s idle hands).

You were starting to come into your own, sure. You were doing better in training and making friends in the cabin you were stuck in and starting to get used to burning part of every meal, but the most glaring issue of all still hadn’t been resolved.

You still hadn’t been claimed. 

And maybe it shouldn’t have been such an issue for you, but how could you not feel shitty? How could you see all the different tables and all the different kids talking and smiling and joking with each other that had parents who cared enough to at least claim them, and not feel unworthy?

Because you did. You felt unworthy, and it didn’t matter how many times you took your sparring partner down or bested the climbing wall or actually hit the bullseye at archery practice—your mother didn’t think you were good enough, so neither did you. 

“How’re you doin’, Berkeley?” 

You frowned. You didn’t have to look up to know it was Luke as he sat down next to you. “What?”

“Did you not hear me?” he asked, but you were already shaking your head.

“Berkeley,” you repeated, finally glancing at him. “That’s not my name.”

Luke shrugged. “I dunno what to tell you. You’re unclaimed. UC. University of California—first one I think of for you is Berkeley.”

You were staring now. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’ve got tons of UCs. I’ve gotta keep track of them all somehow,” Luke said, and he pointed at campers both at your table and walking around as he talked. “That’s LA, Irvine, Davis—the others aren’t here, but you get the gist.” He looked back at you. “Been savin’ Berkeley for someone special.”

“Oh gods,” you said, horrified. “I’ve got to get claimed.”

One of the girls at the table—Irvine?—rolled her eyes as she stood up and flicked Luke on the head. “Be nice,” she said before walking away. All he did was smile.

“Maybe give it to someone else,” you said. “I don’t feel special.”

Luke’s brows creased. “If you don’t like it—”

“It’s fine,” you said. “The name doesn’t bother me. The reason I have it does.”

His eyes softened as he said your actual name. “It’s only been a month. You’ve still got plenty of time.”

You looked across at the Hebe girl you’d become friends with—Marisol, if you remembered right—and hoped that your eyes didn’t show the desperation you felt. “How long did it take for you?” 

She offered a sympathetic smile. “Six months. But it probably won’t be that long for you.” 

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” you mumbled. But it had been a month, and you hadn’t gotten a single sign. 

“Because it’s true,” Luke urged. “Whoever your mom is will notice you—you’ve been killing it lately.” 

“Really,” you said flatly, “I’ve been killing it.” 

“Yes,” he said. “You don’t know it because you’ve only got your own experience—you went from nearly dead on our doorstep to taking down most of your opponents.” 

“In training,” you said. 

“That still counts!” Luke exclaimed. “Y’know, you’re holding yourself back. You’re incredible, but you’re the only one that seems to not notice it.” 

“And my—” 

“Do not say your mom,” he said, pointing a finger at you. “We’re not talking about the gods right now, we’re talking about you. And you, Bee, are killing it.” 

That gave you pause. “Bee?” 

“I’m trying to get you back up and you focus on the nickname?” Luke asked wryly. 

“Just explain it,” you said. 

“Bee shortened from Berkeley,” he said. “Not fully unclaimed, but still something special.”

God, you hated him. You’d been feeling shitty for a majority of your month here, but he always managed to make you smile.  

“Sure,” you said. 

“And a little annoying,” he added, earning himself a jab in the side as he laughed, “with a bit of a sting.”

“Aren’t you just so clever?” you mused, though you couldn’t help your smile widening.

“It’s in my genes,” he said proudly.

For the rest of a less than exciting lunch, Luke kept you occupied. Whether it was stories of his life before camp, or the couple of months that earned him counselor before you got here, or getting the other campers at the Hermes table to talk about themselves, he made sure you didn’t get a chance to spiral. 

By the end, your face hurt from smiling

As you finished cleaning up, Marisol turned to you.  “Me and a couple other girls were gonna go play volleyball—do you wanna come with us?” 

“Yeah,” you said, and your smile grew. “Yeah, I’d love to. Thanks.” 

“��Course!” she exclaimed, and she linked arms with you. “I’d be a fool not to get you on my team after you took down Liam yesterday.” 

She continued to talk as she pulled you along, and you looked back at Luke. He chuckled and gave you a thumbs up. “Go get ‘em, Bee!” 

You gave him one back, and as you turned back to Marisol, you found that you couldn’t stop smiling. 

—

It was two in the morning and you couldn’t stop crying.

You finally had a mattress against your back, and however stiff it was, it was better than the floor. A decent amount of kids got claimed over the past month, and half the cabin left after the summer was over, so you finally had the privilege of a bunk—thankfully, Marisol did too, and she was below you. 

At least, until the summer-only campers that all the Hermes kids liked more than you returned. Then it was back to the floor.

Unless you got claimed before then. But that was less likely than being able to muster some good will from your cabin mates. 

Because it was embarrassing, truly. You’d been at camp for four months now, and you hadn’t even gotten a single goddamn peep from whoever your mother might be. You just woke up every day on the floor, moseyed about a camp that still didn’t feel like home, burned offerings to a god that didn't want you, and went back to sleep on the floor. 

And now you were crying in a bed that was barely even yours and it was two in the morning and you were wondering if it would have just been better for you to die on the road to camp the first time, because at least then your mother might have actually paid attention to you. 

“Hey.” 

And now you were really wishing you’d died because you’d woken someone up and they’re just gonna hate you more— 

“Are you okay?” 

You finally turned your head from where it had been buried in a pillow, a laissez-faire attempt to suffocate yourself or maybe just muffle the noise, and you saw Luke Castellan. Counselor of a cabin of thieves, vagabonds, and rejects, and maybe the only person that you didn’t want to see you like this. All that good will, the unearned faith you’d accumulated—this was the easiest way to lose it. His eyebrows were creased, and his whisper held what sounded like concern, but he was required to be concerned. 

You nodded, still not moving, still not speaking. Tears rolled down your cheeks and stained the bed sheet. 

“You’re gonna have to be a little more believable than that, Bee,” Luke murmured. 

“No, I don’t,” you whispered back. 

You got the tiniest huff of a laugh out of him, and he gestured towards the closed door with his head. “Wanna take a second?” 

“It’s past curfew,” you mumbled. 

“And you’re miserable,” Luke said. “You can’t feel any worse getting eaten by harpies than you do now.” 

Still, you stared at him. 

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. “Right outside the cabin. Harpies won’t even know.” 

You rubbed a hand across your face, coming away wet with tears, and you realized that he wasn’t just going to leave you like this. So you got up as quietly as you could, careful not to disturb your bunkmates, and followed Luke. He pushed the door open and shut so quietly you wondered how many times he’s snuck out. 

The cold air was sobering, and you wiped away more tears before wrapping your arms around yourself. Camp Half-Blood was always supposed to have perfect weather, but you guess not even they were immune to November nights. 

“So,” Luke started, and in your peripherals you could see him leaning against the side of the cabin. You could feel his gaze on you, and you just stared off into the distance. 

“So,” you repeated. 

“You wanna tell me why you’re crying in the middle of the night?” he asked. 

“Not really,” you said, because it felt ridiculous that a boy your age was acting like he’s ten years your elder. 

Luke chuckled and tipped his head. “Fair. You want to say anything at all?” 

“I’m sorry for waking you up.” 

He shook his head. “I was already up. I’m a light sleeper.” 

“Seems rough in a cabin like this,” you said. 

“I’ve gotten used to it,” he said. “Did you have a nightmare?”

You frowned, because now it really felt like he was babying you. Luke must have caught on, because he laughed a bit and shook his head.

“Demigods have… extremely vivid dreams,” he said. “Typically horrific nightmares. Sometimes prophetic.”

Your frown deepened. “That’s awful.”

Luke shrugged. “It’s just the way it is. The gods can’t interfere in mortal affairs, so I guess it’s their way of letting us know what’s wrong.”

You shook your head with a sigh. “No nightmares, thankfully. Just… feeling overwhelmed.”

“About what?” he asked. “I told you you’ve been doing great.” 

“It doesn’t matter how many times you say it,” you said wryly. “It doesn’t mean I believe it.” 

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t,” he asserted. 

You huffed a laugh. “It’s been four months, Luke. Four months since I got here after nearly dying in five different states, and I don’t even know who’s responsible for it.” 

“Ah,” Luke said. “The unclaimed thing.” 

“Yeah,” you said wryly. “I guess you could call it that.”

“Sorry,” he said, and he shook his head. “It’s a bigger deal than that, I know.” 

“Maybe it isn’t,” you said. “There’s at least six other kids in there dealing with the same thing as I am, and none of them are waking up their counselor in the middle of the night with their tears.”

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” Luke said with surprising conviction. “Like your feelings aren’t valid. Because they are.” 

You crossed your arms. “Doesn’t seem like it.” 

“They are,” he insisted. “A— and you’re not bothering me. We’re friends, and we help each other. I care about you, y’know.” 

“I never said I was bothering you,” you said wryly. 

“You thought it,” Luke said. “I know you did.” 

“...Maybe.” You sighed and shook your head as you looked out at the stars. They really were beautiful here. “I just can’t help but be bitter about all this, and I feel so shitty about it.” 

“Would it make you feel better to know you’re not the only one that thinks that?” he asked. 

“A little, yeah.” You glanced at him. “No one else seems too bothered that their parents are never around.” 

“Most of them have accepted that it’s just the way it is,” he said. “Doesn’t mean you have to.” 

“Have you?” 

Luke sighed after a moment of reluctance. “I… I have a complicated relationship with my dad because he was around. It was almost… worse to know him, and then to have him leave.” 

“It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all,” you quoted. 

“I don’t know about that,” Luke murmured. “But it certainly helps to talk about it.” 

You glanced over to see him gazing off into the distance, a look in his eye that you couldn’t quite place. This was the most he’d ever talked about his past to you, you realized—and it still wasn’t much. 

“When were you claimed?” you asked after a moment of contemplation.

Luke shrugged. “I never really had to be. Hermes stayed with my mom for a year after I was born, and she told me who he was when I was a little older. I’ve known basically my whole life—he had no reason not to claim me as soon as I got to camp.”

“So you’re saying my dad could be keeping secrets from me too,” you said. 

“He might not know,” Luke said. “A lot of times, they don’t talk about it. Sometimes, we don’t find out until a monster’s trying to kill us on a field trip.” 

You huffed. “What a great existence we’ve been blessed with.” 

Luke smiled, though it was tighter than usual. He let out a deep breath, then fully turned to you. 

“Do you have your dagger with you?”

You frowned. “It’s under my pillow. Why?” 

“Under your—” Luke stared for a moment before he laughed and shook his head. “A little paranoid?” 

You shrugged. “You said it yourself. You’re a cabin of thieves.” 

“True,” he admitted. “How’d you like to get some of this emotion out?” 

“We’re sneaking out even more?” 

“It’ll be fine,” Luke promised. 

“You always say that,” you said. “Eventually, it’s not gonna be true.” 

He laughed and gestured at the door. “Get your dagger. We’re gonna make this a very bad night for some mannequins.” 

-

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.” 

You huffed as you ripped your dagger out of the dummy, a few strands of straw coming out of the new hole you’d torn in its forehead, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. “Are you kidding? This was a great idea.” 

“Not this part,” he said. “The ‘being alone with you during a rage’ part.” 

“I’m not in a rage,” you muttered as you slashed at the breastplate, “I’m blowing off steam.” 

Luke hummed. “And you thought you weren’t a good fighter.” 

You stabbed at the armor again then rammed your fist into its head, and you took a step back as the mannequin thudded to the ground. “I guess I just need to think about my mom before I go into battle.” 

“Y’know, Bee,” Luke said, “you scare me sometimes.” 

You shook your head, wiping your blade on your night shirt to get any debris off as you turned around. “You’re really gonna stick with that?” 

“I told you I’d stop if you didn’t like it.” 

“It’s not that. I just…” You sighed and shook your head again. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Of course it does.” Luke crossed his arms. “Everything you have to say matters.” 

“Not if I say it doesn’t,” you countered, and you looked at him. “Who do you think it could be?” 

“Your parent?” he asked. You nodded. 

“Definitely not Apollo,” Luke said. “You’re way too dreary to be a kid of the god of the sun.”

“Gee,” you said dryly, “thanks.” 

Luke shrugged. “You asked.” 

“Well— who else?” You picked the dummy back up and dusted the armor off. “Athena, maybe? I’m smart.” 

“Not smart enough to not be out past curfew with me,” he said. 

“You suggested this,” you scoffed. “And I definitely needed it. If we get caught, I’m blaming you.” 

“And why do you think that would work?” he asked, amused. 

“You’re the camp’s golden boy,” you said. “I doubt you’d get in much trouble.” 

“Sure, sure,” he said, nodding. “Or you just think I’m good enough to talk my way out of it.” 

You tilted your head. “That too.”

“I never thought Ares before,” Luke chuckled, “but after all this, I think you might have it in you.” 

“God, I hope not. Priya hates me.” 

“She doesn’t hate you,” Luke said. “She just tried to kill you that one time.” 

“And that other time during capture the flag,” you said. “She’s out for blood, Luke.” 

He chuckled and shook his head. “She always is. She’s probably already moved onto her next victim.” 

“I hope so.” 

“Maybe Aphrodite?” he suggested. “You’re awfully pretty.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” Luke corrected. 

You huffed a laugh but couldn’t help the slightest smile as you shook your head. “It’s not Tyche, at least. I have the worst luck.” 

“Maybe you’re a Big Three kid,” he said. “How do you feel about the sky?” 

“I like it,” you said. 

“The ocean?” 

“Not so much.” 

“And the darkness?” 

You huffed a dry laugh. “I’m not a Big Three kid, Luke. Even I know that.” 

“No, you don’t,” he said. “You can never know for sure until you’re claimed.” 

“If I was, I would be the biggest disappointment,” you said, looking at your reflection in your dagger. “Breaking their pact for a kid that can barely fight.” 

“Why do you always do that?” 

Luke’s voice had lost the joking edge from before, and when you glanced over at him, he was frowning.

“Do what?” 

“You always put yourself down,” he said. “You don’t even give yourself a chance to believe that you’ll be great, or that you’ll succeed—you’re just a coward, or a failure, or worthless at the first bump in the road.” 

“Luke—” 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I need you to understand that you are so, so much more than whatever that shitty voice in your head says.”

You went silent. Any words you could have even said stuck in your throat. 

“This is not an easy life,” Luke asserted. “We’re thrown into an ocean before we know how to swim, and we have to find the shore all on our own or die trying. We—” he laughed, but there was no heart in it— “we’ve got our parents above us that could guide us, could save us, but most of the time they refuse to even acknowledge us. And we’ve got every single goddamn obstacle in the way trying to kill us.”

He inclined his head towards you. “But in spite of all that, you’re alive. You’re still here. You’re pushing through everything in your path, and you are still fucking here. Do you get that?”

“…I’m still here,” you repeated, and your hands clenched into fists. It had never felt more right to have your dagger in your hand. 

Luke nodded resolutely. “And you’ve got a couple lifeboats to help along the way.”

“You mean it?” Your voice came out softer than you thought, in stark contrast to the stiffness of your bones, but you felt like a kid all over again. 

“With all my heart,” he promised. “For as long as you’re here, I’ll be here.” 

Your throat tightened, and the telltale beginnings of tears pricked behind your eyes. This time, when you spoke, your voice was little more than a whisper. “Thank you.”

“Always,” he said. “And I mean that.”

You nodded, maybe a few too many times, and cleared your throat as you looked back at your dagger. “It’s late. We should get back before we actually get in trouble.”

Luke nodded too, and he helped you move the dummy back into place. You hated how your heart jumped into your throat when your hands brushed for the barest moment, but thankfully, he didn’t seem to notice. 

“Thank you for this.” You played with your hands as Luke finished putting everything else away—extra insurance to make sure no one knew you were here—and only managed to make eye contact just as he looked at you. “It… it really helped.” More than he knew, you were sure. 

Luke smiled, and he offered you his arm. “Always.”

You took it, ignoring the heat in your cheeks. “Just… don’t tell anyone about the crying.”

He chuckled as you started walking together. “After the way you’ve been handling that dagger? I’d be a fool.“

-

“Luke,” you groaned, “this is awful.” 

“You were the one who said you wanted to spend time with me,” he said, giving you a crooked smile. “Spending time with me after the worst cabin inspection ever means cleaning the place head to toe for our next one.” 

“Is skipping dinner really worth it though?” you asked as you scooped up a pile of dirty clothes and tossed it into the basket between you two. 

“It’s the only time this place is completely empty,” he said. “I told you I could handle it alone—you’re the one that insisted on helping.” 

“Maybe I do want to be a Big Three kid,” you grumbled. “At least I’d only be cleaning up my own mess.” 

“You’d also have the wrath of the gods and every monster in the world to deal with,” he said. 

You shook your head. “A small price to pay for a clean cabin.” 

“And then you wouldn’t get to see me when you wake up every day,” he mused. “A much bigger price to pay.” 

You huffed as you dropped to your knees, reaching under a bed to grab a stray camp tee. “Keep talking, pretty boy. It won’t clean the floors.” 

Luke grinned. “You think I’m pretty?” 

“I think you’ve got the messiest cabin in the world,” you said. “We’ve gotten the lowest rating every day for the past two weeks. I’ve been here for seven months now, and I don’t think we’ve ever gotten a full five.” 

“Which is why you’re helping me!” he said. “Because you’re as sick of scrubbing the pegasi stables as I am.” 

“You’re the counselor here!” you exclaimed. “You’ve gotta whip your siblings into shape.” 

Luke gestured at you. “You’re basically my co-counselor. It’s just as much your responsibility.” 

“And just what makes you think that?” you marveled. 

“You’re the person in the cabin I like the most,” he said, “and we spend a lot of time together. That’s enough to make you my partner.” 

“My stuff is always clean,” you said. “It’s you and the rest of the Hermes kids that’ve gotten us stuck in the stables and the kitchens every afternoon. Not me.”

You started remaking the unmade bed—would it kill any of the Hermes kids to make theirs right after they got up?—and shook your head. “It’s just not fair. Aphrodite’s cabin is basically Barbie’s Dreamhouse, and Demeter kids can grow plants to make it all pretty. We’ve just got a cabin of slobs.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, but when you glanced at him, you saw he was smiling. “It’ll all be fine.” 

“You always say that.” You got the fitted sheet into all the corners then looked at him full-on. “Even when it’s not about something as stupid as laundry. How do you know?” 

Luke shrugged as he nudged a ladder to a top bunk back into place. “I don’t. I just hope for the best.” 

“How do you do that?” you asked. “How does anyone here do that? I feel like I’m the most pessimistic person here.” 

“Every single one of us is an anomaly,” Luke said. “Freaks of nature. By all accounts of logic, we shouldn’t exist. But we do. All of mythology does. And when we have to literally fight for our lives for every single day, it doesn’t do much good to sweat the small stuff.”

“All I do is sweat the small stuff,” you grumbled, and you stretched your back out before you continued. “D’you think they’ll get annoyed that we just pooled all their laundry together again?” 

“Nah,” Luke said. “If they didn’t want to have to pick all their stuff out after we so graciously do the laundry for them, they would keep their things clean in the first place.” 

You chuckled and shook your head as you finished laying out the sorry excuse for a comforter—it would end up on the floor five seconds into the night, but Sisyphus and the boulder and all that—and sat down on the fruits of your labor. “I think this mess is the one thing I won’t miss when I get claimed.” 

“You’re not as down about that as you used to be,” Luke noted.

“You know how they say a watched pot never boils?” 

He actually laughed at that as he leaned against a bed post. “If you don’t care, you’ll get claimed faster?” 

You shrugged. “Nothing else has worked. And like you said—don’t sweat the small stuff, right?” 

“Like you said— all you do is sweat the small stuff.” 

“Maybe I’m gonna try and turn over a new leaf,” you mused.

“I think that would be good for you,” he said. “You’ve been happier lately. It’s good to see you happy.” 

“You’ve been watching?” you asked wryly. 

Luke smiled. “You know I always am.” 

You ignored the warmth stirring in your chest as you shrugged. “I’ve spent way too much time this year being sad over things I can’t control. Might as well start focusing on the things I can.” 

“And to think,” he mused, “this is the same girl that wanted nothing to do with me when we first talked.” 

“Oh, please,” you said dryly, “I’ve always wanted something to do with you.” 

“And you still understand that flattery gets you everywhere,” Luke said with a grin. He pushed himself up and held out his hand. “C’mon—this place is clean enough. I think if we run, we can still make dinner.” 

“Think we’ll get in trouble for partially skipping?” you asked as you stood up and took his hand, swinging your intertwined hands a bit as you walked together. 

Luke chuckled as he pushed the door open and you walked out. “After the work we did here? We should be hailed as saints.”  

-

“Luke,” you whispered. 

His eyes shot wide open as he jolted up, and you had to stifle your laugh at his bewildered expression before he realized it was you. 

He said your name groggily, rubbing his eyes as he kept himself propped up with his other arm. “What d’you need?” 

“The stars,” you said. “They’re beautiful tonight.” 

“So are you,” he mumbled. “You don’t see me waking you up in the middle of the night to tell you that.” 

“Luke,” you said, but you couldn’t help your smile. “On topic.” 

“The stars,” he said, barely nodding in his addled state. “Good for them. I’m going back to sleep now.” 

“No, Luke—” you laughed softly and took his hand. “Come stargazing with me.” 

He closed his eyes, but he didn’t take his hand away. “You’re insane.” 

“Please,” you said. “I could never see the stars at home, not like this. They’re brighter than I’ve ever seen.” 

“It’s so late,” he complained. “Can we do it in the morning?” 

“Do you know what stargazing is?” you asked, amused. 

“Hey, lovebirds.” The annoyed, tired voice of a camper rang out as they hit the wall. “Take it outside so we can sleep.” 

Again, you had to bite back a laugh. Luke looked like he was holding back a groan, but he got up anyway, rubbing the grogginess out of his eyes. You moved to the door as quietly as possible, and you waited until he joined you on the small porch. 

“Thank you,” you said, hearing the door close, “and sorry.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Luke covered up his yawn as he held a jacket out for you. “Put this on. I’m not gonna be responsible for you getting a cold because you want to stargaze in February.” 

Your eyebrows rose as you took it. “Is this yours?” 

“Don’t think too much into it,” he said, but he had the slightest smile on his lips. “You wanna see the stars, right? Let’s see ‘em.” 

“Not here,” you said, shaking your head as you zipped up the maroon hoodie. You held out your hand once you finished. “Do you trust me?” 

“Oh, gods,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “We’re doing a trust exercise too?” 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you remarked. You took his hand and started dragging him along, a clear spot in mind. 

“You’re kidding me,” he said in exasperation. “I thought we were just gonna look at the sky for a couple minutes— you’re taking me to a second destination?”  

“Hey,” you said, “don’t sweat the small stuff.” 

“Oh, I can’t wait to use that on the harpies when they catch us and eat us,” Luke said offhandedly. “‘I’m sorry, ma’am—we’re really trying not to sweat the small stuff.’” 

You laughed as you continued on your way, and out of the corner of your eye you could see Luke smiling too, despite himself. Suddenly, though, his grip tightened on your hand and he pulled you behind one of the thicker columns of the pavilion. 

“Wh—” 

He shook his head then gestured with it to the other side of the pavilion. One of the harpies—Aello, if you remembered correctly from Chris’s rant the past week about cleaning dishes—was walking past, muttering things to herself. 

“Speak of the devil,” you marveled. You definitely weren’t a child of Tyche. 

Luke gave you a look that quite clearly said be quiet, and for some reason that only made you want to laugh more. He must have seen that glint in your eye that he’d grown used to, because he placed his hand over your mouth right before the dam was about to burst. 

You squeezed his hand tight as you tried to keep yourself from blowing your cover while Luke occupied himself with actually watching to make sure your path would clear. You were pressed right up against each other, and even through the jacket, even in the cold, you could feel his body warmth. He did say he ran hot.

Eventually, Luke let out a labored sigh and let his hand drop, and you wheezed, nearly doubling over. 

“There is something wrong with you,” he said. He was barely able to hold back his own amusement.  

“Oh my god,” you breathed, “that was awful.” 

“That was your fault!” he exclaimed. 

“How was it my fault?” you argued. “You’re the counselor here—you’re meant to be the responsible one!” 

“I was being responsible!” Luke laughed again as he ran his hand through his hair then used it to gesture at you. “You were the one that nearly got us caught—you were the one who wanted to be out here in the first place!”

 “Right,” you said, pointing your finger, “we gotta get to the beach.” 

“Stargazing on the beach,” Luke marveled. “Definitely worth nearly getting eaten.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you said as you continued to pull him along. “You could’ve said no.” 

He squeezed your hand for a moment. “We both know I can never say no to you.” 

Once you got to the beach you let go of his hand and laid down, taking care not to get sand in your sneakers. Luke sat down next to you but stayed up, watching the tide go in and out. 

At night, without a hundred campers running around making all the noise they can, you actually felt like you could breathe. 

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” It almost felt wrong to break the sacred silence, to insert yourself in the ambiance of nature working together in all its glory. 

“Yeah.” Luke’s voice was softer than usual, that rough edge you’d grown used to absent in the face of calmer seas. “Yeah. It’s…” 

“Serene,” you suggested. 

“Beautiful,” he said. When you glanced at him, he was already looking at you. 

“Very smooth,” you said wryly. “Now stop flirting and look at the stars.” 

Luke chuckled lightly as he let himself fall back. His hand bumped yours as he adjusted his position, and your breath caught in your throat for the barest moment. You moved it away. 

The two of you laid there together in silence gazing at the stars for what felt like forever. The gentle waves coming to shore then leaving, the scattering of sand from quiet winds, and not a single angry car horn or police siren. 

You missed home, the city. You were headstrong in your belief that Detroit was better than New York. But gods—sometimes, you just couldn’t beat camp. 

You didn’t know what possessed you to break the silence. But something had been tugging at you since the moment you laid down on the beach, and so you did. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” 

Luke didn’t miss a beat. “Always.” 

“I…” you trailed off for a moment, but you bolstered yourself. “I’m scared of what comes next.” 

You heard Luke shift in the sand and felt his eyes on you. “What do you mean?” 

“After this,” you said. “The honeymoon phase of being a demigod.” 

He huffed a laugh. “I wouldn’t say we have a honeymoon phase.” 

“You know what I mean.” A shiver went down your spine and you put your arms on your chest. Like a coffin. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.” 

“I think you need to stop getting up in the middle of the night,” he said. “It seems you have all your existential crises then.” 

You exhaled out your nose, a sorry excuse for a laugh. “I’ve heard about quests—how they can happen for no reason except a god’s will, to— to prove that you’re worthy. And all I can think about is that my mother will never claim me until I prove I’m worthy or die trying.” 

Luke was silent. You could feel your throat closing up, the threatened onslaught of tears. You blinked them back. 

“All my life, I have never felt seen,” you murmured. “And I’m terrified that the only way I will be seen is when I die.”

“Look at me.” 

You turned your head—Luke’s eyes were piercing in the moonlight. 

“I don’t care what anyone says, especially that voice in your head—you’re worth everything and more,” he said. “And you are worth so much more than becoming a martyr for a god’s approval.” 

“I wish you could tell my mom that,” you mumbled. 

“I would march right up to Olympus and say it to her face,” he said. “And if it bothers her that much, she can smite me right now.” 

That got a breathy laugh out of you from the pure absurdity. Luke’s eyes flicked to the sky as he waited, and when he didn’t instantly die a horrific death, his gaze went back to you. 

“I see you,” Luke promised, his voice low. “And I’ll make everyone see you the way I do. I swear it.” 

You were starstruck. You couldn’t look away from him, from the determination etched into each detail of his face, the softness in his eyes directed wholly at you—the fact that he was here at all in the first place at an unholy hour just because you asked. 

Oh gods. You were in trouble. 

“It’s late.” You finally managed to break the spell that held you under. “We should go.” 

“Yeah.” Luke made no motion to move, still focused wholly on you. 

“Luke,” you whispered. 

You could have sworn his eyes moved down to your lips, but he was sitting up so quickly that you knew you must have imagined it. You cleared your throat as you followed suit, brushing the sand off your—his— jacket. 

“This was nice,” he said after a moment. “...Thanks for waking me up.” 

“Of course,” you said. “There’s… there’s no one else I would’ve wanted to share it with.” 

Luke smiled, and you didn’t think he’d ever looked more beautiful than he did now, awash in the silver moonlight. If you were braver, you would have taken his hand again. You would’ve done what the voice in your head desperately wanted to do—had wanted to do for the past two months.  

But you didn’t. 

“I guess it was worth nearly getting eaten, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said, and he shrugged. “But most things are worth it when it comes to you.” 

You nearly melted right there, and it was a credit to your strength that you didn’t say anything horrifically stupid. Instead, you put on a smile, hoped he couldn’t see how much he was killing you, and started back up on the path. 

“C’mon,” you said. “Before we end up having to clean the entire camp for breaking curfew.” 

“Whatever you say,” he mused. 

-

You groaned as you slumped into your usual spot at the Hermes table. You heard Luke laugh, and you felt his eyes on you as you put your head in your arms.

“What’s got you so down?”

“I’ve been fifteen for three days and I already feel like an old woman,” you said. “Everything still hurts.”

“Capture the flag was meant to be a birthday gift,” Luke said wryly. “And we did win.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” you grumbled. “I swear, some people went after me on purpose just because it was my birthday. I’ve got bruises all over.”

“You know, we have an infirmary for a reason.” 

“They’re battle wounds,” you said. You picked up your head just to take your goblet. “Lemonade. Actually, pink lemonade.” You took a sip, but even that didn’t make you feel better. You buried your head back in your arms with a rough sigh. “Signs of our victory.”

Luke huffed a laugh. “Sometimes I really don’t…”

He trailed off suddenly, and you heard a collective gasp go up at the table.

“What?” you asked halfheartedly. 

“You— you’re—” 

You didn’t know why he couldn’t finish his sentence. You picked your head up to see Luke’s face awash in golden light, his eyes wide. Everyone else at the Hermes cabin was just as awestruck, and Marisol fumbled around in her purse until she pulled out her compact. She opened her foundation, the mirror pointing at you, and you realized why.

A glowing, golden, translucent sickle with a few sheaths of wheat floated above your head. You frowned.

Before you had the chance to say anything, Luke was yelling your name and tackling you in a hug. You let out a grunt of surprise as you barely managed to brace yourself, and when he pulled away he was smiling wider than you’d ever seen.

“You’re claimed!” he exclaimed, his hands gripping your shoulders. “You— you’re finally claimed!”

“Demeter,” you said, almost absentmindedly. It still hadn’t quite hit you. 

“Demeter,” he repeated, nodding rapidly, that gigantic smile seeming like a permanent feature at this point. “I told you everyone would see you— I told you we would make them see you the way I do!”

The rest of the table was chattering away, and you could feel Chris patting you on the back and saying words that went in one ear and out the other. The rest of the pavilion was starting to catch word, and you could see a couple kids from a table on the opposite end standing up and craning to see. Maybe your new siblings. 

(You should be happy.)

Your new siblings. 

…Your new cabin.

You could still barely think, like there was static in your brain. Luke’s hands on your shoulders were the only thing grounding you. 

(You should be ecstatic.)

A year of tears, silent prayers, and apathetic resolution had finally come to a close, just days after your fifteenth. 

(Why are you not smiling?)

You’d been claimed. But you didn’t think you’d ever felt more lost. 

#also you may notice. that these include the flashbacks mentioned at the end of bleedin me dry. bc i enjoy hurting people #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #sadie writes

[mezzy303]

So I've been rereading skip beat from the beginning for the first time in uhhhhh almost 10 years and I'm going inSaNE over characterizations and development that I have to write it down

At this point I'm only at the Heel siblings arc so I haven't gotten to the Guam or Saena arcs which are very big for Kyoko and Ren's character development and healing which I haven't reread since those chapters came out

Can we just take a moment to appreciate Nakamura for basing Kyoko and Ren's childhood struggles and trauma on very real things that aren't often, if at all, dealt with in anime/manga and also writing them with utmost care (Not only do the traumas inform their personalities, but their healing arcs aren't just a one and done thing!! It's a very slow process) Like starting with Kyoko, her single mother neglected her so much that she was raised by a family friend. On top of that, nothing Kyoko did was ever good enough for her mother, and both of these things are so apparent in Kyoko's character. She attaches herself to fairytales and magic as an escapism and because she relates to stories like Cinderella. She literally cannot function if she messes up and no one criticizes her. She can't properly acknowledge her own talents and beauty without it being attached somehow to fairytales; she never quite believes shes good enough. Similarly, she didn't want to bother anyone with her troubles, so she always dealt with them alone/in private spaces. Pretty sure she also has lowkey abandonment issues. And this is all parental trauma!! Things she already has before the series starts and she gets so utterly heartbroken she swears off romantic love entirely so she can never get hurt the same way again.

(I don't think I'll ever get over how Kyoko told all this to Kuu and he was literally like I'm adopting you. Your mine now. Sorry I don't make the rules ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ And Kuu going home to his wife like hey we got a new kid 😂 Like Kyoko freezing up when she made mistakes and then Kuu showing her love instead of reprimanding her makes me go 🥹😩💖✨😭💝 Kyoko getting all fluffy from head pats🥹🥹 But on the downside she literally can't bring herself to call him dad unless she's in acting mode sjdfhsf)

When I really consider it, I wonder if Kyoko really loved Sho as a person or like.... the idea of him. Like he was just a convenient guy via proximity bc Kyoko needed someone to be her "prince". We haven't been shown exactly why she fell in love, but it would explain why she stuck with dedicating herself to him despite his terrible personality and knowing he never saw her the same way. It's portrayed like the concept of hatsukoi in anime where its ✨pure✨and innocent✨It seems very idealistic. Whereas Kyoko's love for Ren is more mature. She sees every aspect of Ren and doesn't sugarcoat it, she sees him as he is (she does him up on a pedestal but partially bc she admires him but also as an extreme measure to protect her heart and hide her feelings imo)

And REN. trauma to the max. He had to deal with the hardships of making a name for himself when his parents are already famous, extreme racism from being biracial, his friend/mentor dying from an accident he unintentionally caused???? Like boy hates himself so much he's literally disassociating 24/7 he needs a fucking therapist. I get how being Ren has helped him in some capacity but he needs a professional asap. Though deep diving into this is so interesting because Ren/Kuon compartmentalized his issues and the parts that he hates about himself so much he created its own persona ("Dark Kuon"), to the point he's rarely ever just himself. And he buried it so deep that as soon as he cracked the lid open, those emotions just spilled out. He can't even allow himself to be happy, and when he does feel truly happy, his automatic response is acting nonchalant,,,,,,,,,,,, he didn't even realize he was doing it at first 😢

Also the symbolism with Ren's watch makes me go a little feral. I don't remember if it's originally his or Rick's but it obviously stopped when the latter died and Ren keeps it as a reminder of what happened and why he went to Japan. It's a weird item since it grounds him but also represents his heavy trauma, and I think having those two things in one kinda showcases Ren's unhealthy coping mechanisms (like grounding himself to something traumatic isn't... great...). But that scene where he realizes he took it off and he has a moment of whether it to keep it on as Cain Heel or not??? *clenches fist* it was so good. (To recap it, he had his watch so he wouldn't lose himself in the role of BJ and then forgot it in the bathroom after an unexpected trauma response) Ren narrates his thoughts as choosing between Rick or Kyoko but interpreting this, he's choosing whether to keep himself stuck in his past trauma or move forward and let himself be happy AKA stick with unhealthy coping mechanisms vs try something healthy and rely on people he trusts. Kyoko essentially becomes someone Ren grounds himself to 🥺 He still needs therapy though lmao. He's so mentally unstable in this arc,,,

As I'm writing this I'm seeing a parallel between Kyoko and Ren and how they both had an experience that completely and utterly broke them, and it was this that pushed them onto their current paths in showbiz. And they likely would never have met each other again if those things never happened (they had to lose themselves to find each other?? 😭). It's so funny to me that Ren is all like ThEiR fAtEs ArE iNtErTwInEd with Kyoko and Sho when you have to consider the fact that him and Kyoko meeting again was like. a chance in a billion. It was fate 😂

KyoRen is such a poetic ship to me. The fact that they're different people when they meet and don't recognize the other. How Ren starts falling in love AS SOON AS HE REALIZES KYOKO IS THE SAME GIRL HE MET (Ren being gray/demiromantic.... more at 5). Kyoko lowkey starting to crush on Ren when she witnesses a bit of his real personality. These two things happening around the same time??????? And Ren being SO afraid of being Kuon, his true self, because of his bad qualities, but Kyoko pulling out the good qualities without him fully realizing it?? (I'm 100% referring to Kuon being a mischievous little shit and I live for how he teases Kyoko) tbh they treat each other differently from other people without even realizing it lol. And Kyoko being surrounded by toxic and possessive men pursuing her, and Ren being anything BUT. Like my man is a gigantic green flag. He recognizes that he can't seriously pursue Kyoko bc she's a minor and he really tries his best to only be a friend and mentor in her life and keeping her trust and never crossing her boundaries despite the stereotypes of men being "unable to control themselves." Y'all take point this should be the standard at minimum☝️

I have to talk about Sho bc this boy is so fucking toxic but he makes such a fascinating character. As much as I hate how Kyoko got heartbroken in the way she did, I think it was necessary so that she could leave Sho's sorry ass and cut him out of her life. Seriously,,,, he took advantage of her and used her as a servant. she literally dropped out of school, moved to a different city, and took on two jobs for the sole purpose of helping his career and then he threw her away like a used rag (JUST THROW THE WHOLE MAN AWAY). And then he has the audacity to fall in love with her smh. Anyway the fascinating part about him to analyze is how he's so possessive of Kyoko. Like she was a mere fly in his life, but she was always his. Until she wasn't. And I think those twisted thoughts kinda morphed into feelings for Kyoko. Ig in a way he still cares about her, but it could never hide how toxic he is. Anyone who's like I don't care how this person thinks of me as long as I take up the biggest space in their heart is egotistical and narcissistic. BUT he and Kyoko bickering like siblings will always be funny. Like epitome of two people who've lived with each other for way too long so they know how the other ticks and also get on each other's nerves 😂😂Sho does makes a good foil for Ren though. Like he's basically everything Ren is not: immature, temperamental, possessive, vain, the list goes on. His only redeeming qualities as a character is providing good drama and humor and being an example of what Ren isn't.

Skip Beat is really a story about healing and learning to love yourself and letting others love you and Nakamura is such a good story teller 🥺

#word vomit #aka these children need professional help #*late night word vomit i'm slightly delirious #my reviews #i'm sorry i really wanted to talk about both kyoko AND ren but it ended up being mostly ren i think whoops #reading the official translations helped my understanding of everything i think #not to diss the fan translations but sometimes they're..... hard to read #skip beat #kyoko mogami #ren tsuruga #kyoren

[aria-ashryver]

yooooo im SO tired, have a health update 💞

(which was going to be another video update but then a bird came and i got distracted and now im too tired to speak lol. also WOW imagine being so pale you create your own god rays slkdjf)

so, ive been feeling like hot garbage for some time, which is perhaps not surprising with the whole "was poisoned via chemo for a year, is still recovering" thing. Recently my heart has been feeling Not Good TM, and the fatigue waves are getting pretty extreme at times.

So, I followed this up with my doctor, very much expecting it to be a case of "no you're just out of shape / your asthma is playing up / you're just being super lazy, try harder, etc". He booked me a specialised heart test which I had last week.

Uhhh apparently I wasn't just being pathetic! (Which is somewhat gratifying to know that there is a reason things have been so hard lately and it's not just in my head)

There is a thing called your Ejection Fraction, which is essentially a measure of how much oxygenated blood your heart is pumping around your body -- its the factor that keeps you feeling energised.

Mine has dropped. Fairly significantly. When I had the same heart scan in October, mid-way through chemo, I was still retaining a lot of my heart health and muscle mass from when i was pre-chemo, so my EF was sitting at about 80. Which is a sign I was initially quite physically fit (or, to quote my oncologist: "giiiiirl, you a Boston Marathon runner or what?)

Since my last scan, my EF has dropped to 58. Which is still actually higher than average, most people sit at about 55, so I've dropped to an average range lol.

My heart is working, but such a significant jump is still cause for concern. My oncologist said that if I had been less young and fit, it would have been a case of dropping from 55 to somewhere in the 30s, to which he said "you'd struggle to even walk down that corridor at that point."

At this stage, I have a (hopefully reversible!) cardiomyopathy. Unfortunately, reduced heart and lung function can be complications of the two immune therapy drugs I am taking to prevent my cancer from coming back. So the current course of action is to put my immune therapy treatments on hold for 9 weeks to let my heart recover.

Yes, that is a tad spooky, but the drugs have a very long half-life, so I should be okay not taking them for that short period. On the plus side, this should hopefully improve my overall quality of life while my heart heals, and a break from immune therapy will be really nice anyway, because that shit hurts lmao.

Otherwise, the metastatic cancer in my spine and my hips remains stable and is still showing signs of healing because I am AWESOME AND COOL. Oh, and I also had a massive internal lesion (a chemo complication I never mentioned here bc like... if I told you guys every little thing that's wrong with me, we'd be here all day lmao) but that is now healing on its own too!! Woo!

So... ye. Gonna have a nap, knowing that medically my heart is broken and I have yet another reason to take it easy now haha.

Send me lots of "oi don't get cancer again in the next 9 weeks you absolute nugget" type vibes. I don't think I will, I'm not worried, but yk yk vibes are nice 🥰💝💖💓💕🩷💞 if you are still reading, I hope you have a wonderful day!!!

#aria pincushion tally: #complete #look how much hair i have now whoa #i have chemo curls

[littleragondin]

i wanna hear your wheel spins

PLEASE

OMG 🙈 well, thank you for asking and sorry in advance for the potential word cascade... the wheel spins are done using the wonderful tool made by @lovesickfolly (thank you for this 💜💜)

I have NO self control so I ran the wheel with three different actors lol

First I picked Pawin because he is my favorite plus he's pretty versatile and I want him in everything. The wheel picked Pepper. Both are 27 so I would love an out of school setting for them please. Pawin I'm confident could make it work with anybody (still salty about his aborted crumbs with Satang). I think I'd like something a little more serious/dark for those two, something about grief or guilt maybe? Very "two person who shouldered heartbreak and trauma and responsibilities too early find each other and, in the midst of it all, find comfort in the other and, perhaps, get a chance to start healing" kind of story you know? It would probably need an ensemble cast (at least one of them needs a family with siblings - mostly bc I'm a sucker for siblings and the emotional weight they can bring). There would be a lot of crying. A lot of warmth, too. Specifically I would like a hopeful but not fairytale end. I think I'd really like to see them get a shot at two very hurt, very scarred people trying to build something together.

And then I picked Pod because I saw him get the 2nd lead treatment in the Wandee Goodday's trailer this morning and thought he deserved to get the boy somewhere today xd. For him, the wheel gave me Ford. Was a little unsure at first, but you know what? they could give me a nice age-gap romance. Not necessarily something groundbreaking, but Ford has such a soft and charming presence he would do great in a very classic tropey romance. Maybe something about a slightly jaded and over worked Pod (who works from home) learning to love again (maybe he's out of a bad divorce, or he's just generally disappointed by love) with the adorable new neighbor (they meet because Ford has lost his cat (a grumpy thing as old as he is) and tries to see if the neighbors saw him. The beast has been hanging on Pod's sofa for the last week and a half). Something cute and fluffy, a little comedic (while I have my reservations about his character, Pod was very funny in Tonhon Chonlatee). There will be a "taking care of the other when he gets sick" scene. Ford has to sing somehow. And wear an apron (he wants to cook something to thank Pod for taking care of the cat. It fails catastrophically. Maybe Pod could teach him next time? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

Finally, I picked Mike (like you kfdsaj;kla) because. I just always find him delightful in everything I see him in. The wheel gave me Phuwin - because apparently the wheel said it's an age-gap day lol. And while they are not that far apart in age, my mind immediately jumped to Beyond Evil for some reason. So while I don't think I'd want something as dark for them, I think it could be fun to see them in some sort of thriller with Mike as a competent but a bit 'out there' detective (the leather jacket and bike are a must, I make the rules here) having to work with a straight laced, brilliant and young ... either detective or lawyer or SOMETHING for Phuwin (who has to wear glasses, again my game, my rules) and see them learn to tolerate then appreciate then love each other, including a climax involving one of them almost dying in the other's arms. Who nearly dies I leave to chance, throw the dices about it. There would be so much bickering. Some wound tending, obviously. Phuwin's character clinging to Mike's for dear life the first time he takes him on the bike. Protecting each other. Yeah I would love to see that actually.

This makes me realize, once again, how branding pairs robs me (yes, me, personally) of so. many. options. (even if the only branded pair actor in my selection is Phuwin, my comment still stand xd)

#me as a preteen: romance fucking sucks and all the tropes are SO overdone #me at 32: yeah romance is great actually also I will take all the fucking tropes and cliches as long as they're queer plx and thx #the Pawin/Pepper is far more vibe based than the other two but well 🙈 #also actually no school setting for any of them (I could indulge Ford as a senior university student I suppose) #anyway that wheel thing is SO fun #I could play all day lol #thank you so much for asking so I can expose my silly little scenarios xd #the ragondin answers

[kiybee]

all my abominably self indulgent laurence headcanons in one post

i love this bitch more than anything. i’m definitely projecting on a lot of these but a lot of them are just good fun. that being said, content warnings for mental health topics as well as suicide, disordered eating, period-typical racist attitudes, and less than ideal family situations. and gay ppl if ur not into that ig 💀 pls don’t read further if any of these things are gonna upset you

this guy has autism and bpd. excellent at pretending he isn’t totally losing it on the inside

bisexual. no i won’t be elaborating

he’s also biracial, half chinese. was probably born out of some weird orientalist fetish shit idk. his mum’s the chinese one so take that as you will. i have it certain in my head that the marriage was not fully agreed to by both sides, nor was either party particularly happy once the union was made - it could have been because his mother was from an important family, so the taboo was suffered for the sake of social prestige? honestly this hc is not fully formed in my head, i'm really just projecting

dyes his hair blond, refuses to engage with his native language, and masquerades as white, mostly cos he’s ashamed of being half asian. the only person who knows is micolash

also has curly hair naturally but straightens it because it’s apparently “messy” (it’s not he looks beautiful)

came from an upper class family who were insistent on upholding the family image (they were especially ashamed bc they were an interracial marriage). got yelled at a lot as a kid for acting out of social norm so learned to mask really quickly and really well

visited cainhurst at the age of 15 and had to violently hold himself back from asking if people were inbred so that they could keep the blood magic in the family 💀

he also wanted to be a vileblood as a kid the same way kids want to be superheroes. by the time he was like, 12, that faded off but he is still REALLY fascinated by them (and often asks maria about it, much to her annoyance 😭)

liked romance novels growing up. still likes them 20 years later. reads them in his room at byrgenwerth when he thinks micolash isn’t looking but micolash is DEFINITELY looking he just doesnt care

personally identifies with mr darcy from pride and prejudice. actually has infodumped about p&p to micolash a total of one (1) time and proceeded to feel very stupid after (micolash was happy to listen 💀 laurence is just paranoid as fuck)

has a younger sister whose name is cecilia (why is she called that? idk i just like the name). cecilia shares a lot of laurence's insecurities about their race and also dyes her hair blonde and masquerades as white. he doesn't see her anymore though

amelia looks a bit like cecilia and laurence uses that similarity as a way for him to solve his overwhelming guilt over how he abandoned cecilia in a house that didn’t love her when he left home. he treats amelia really well, but never registers the fact that won’t undo his mistakes

unbearably jealous of his peers. compared grades with micolash all the time while they were studying, makes it a point to be bitchy to people who he perceives as better than him. probably fired a couple mfs from the choir cos he thought they were too perfect

stole a bunch of micolash’s pills and attempted suicide during his last year of study at byrgenwerth because he hated himself and felt like a directionless failure who wouldn’t be able to do anything in the world

started the healing church because he wanted to be universally respected, revered, and most of all, loved. ascension was never about godhood, it was about the worship that came with godhood. not sure how well that all turned out for him but you know

he also doesn’t pray AT ALL 💀 the only time this man has paid his respects to the great ones is at mass when everyone looks at him

has periods where he gets a little funny with food. not like, a full out issue with it or anything (not until micolash leaves and his beasthood progresses it), but he likes the control of it during stressful times, and he’d be lying if he didn’t want to change himself to be more attractive. he gets upset when micolash doesn’t eat, but thinks it’s ok when he doesn’t cos he means to??

this weird little aversion becomes a Big Problem later on when he’s fighting beasthood. he regards his “humanity” with food restriction behaviours leading to binge/restrict cycles where he freaks out over losing control and becoming beast

practices faces in the mirror for like two hours every evening so that he doesn't look weird in public. when i say this man is a god at masking i mean it

that being said he goes back to his rooms everyday and stares at a wall as part of the recharging process

oh and then he starts his 50 step beauty routine. this man knows every skincare fad under the sun and is willing to believe ALL of it

BUT back at byrgenwerth he was constantly going through identity crises and would impulse cut his hair into every style under the sun. if you think of a hairstyle this man has probably worn it. most, if not all of them looked terrible before he settled on growing it out long (he wears it in a braid that goes to like, his waist, in the healing church era). he had a cute little ponytail for a while

if you know me you’ve probably heard many, if not all, of these headcanons but yk. its fun to have all of these here. i have more but we'd be here all evening

#laurence the first vicar #bloodborne #micolash host of the nightmare #micolaurence #vicar amelia #tw suicide #tw ed #bloodborne headcanons #headcanons

[something-like-air]

blank period karin is one of the most interesting, complex versions of karin but there's a dearth of content that's dedicated to her in that era

a lot of the content ive seen that features blank period karin is like, sssk fic where she shows up to deliver the baby and is either like, mean or depressed about it, and maybe she and sakura have a moment and become besties, but usually she's there as set dressing, or to like, put the nail in the SK coffin

and like, that scene is absolutely something id want to dig into as a dirty little karin fan, but there's plenty of other shit i think a good karin-centric blank period fic could hit

this list got mad long so here's a read more. check it out.

the creeping, gradual realization that sasuke is not coming back for team taka and will be settling/based out of konoha

generally, any sort of wrangling/reconciliation between sasuke and taka after the war when he's in his new and improved grown up state of mind. if not this, then dealing with the frustrating realization that sasuke will continue to associate with orochimaru and taka whenever he needs anything, while having no intent to maintain serious personal bonds with any of them

in relation to the above, karin havign to deal with the fact that she's probably the only member of taka who is bothered by this, since juugo tends to be passive, and suigetsu is independent enough that if sasuke is fine just being LDBs (long distance bros), he would be totally chill with that. karin!!! not so much

and like i said this would be stuff other than the sarada stuff, but like WHEN the sarada shit happens, how karin approaches the entire sarada situation, whether its like, instant love bc its sasukes kid, or something she needs to force, bc holy shit is that an emotionally complex situation, and holy shit does sasuke do her no favors by asking her to deliver his literal child

aside from the sasuke bullshit, i wanna see karin wrangle with log/mitsuki/other babies(???) being grown in the lab while having no blood family of her own while also being unlikely to ever have her own children

karin also wrangling with the fact that she's creating entire human beings, presumably so that they can be experimented on by orochimaru, which isnt new per se, but is new in the sense that shes now an adult who may or may not have more complex feelings towards helpless children (esp after sarada)

the fact that juugo apparently takes off from taka at some point, and karin and suigetsu either go separate ways or begin working in different hideouts

literally????? any kind of revelations regarding her heritage??? the fact that she busted out the chakra chains in the middle of the war in a very conspicuous moment?? shes a cousin of the future hokage???????? one of two uzumakis left in the world, and the only known pure blooded one, presumably?????????

also this is probably where karin experiments with The First Guy Who Is Not Sasuke, which either fails gloriously in a murder-tinted kinda way, or is wayyy too normal for her to ever be able to maintain it

ALSO i dont think theres a lot of fic that address the long term toll of karin using her healing bites, and it seems like young adulthood would be the time where any wonky shit would present itself

basically i think there should be more fic about how complex karin is in this era, how she tackles leaving behind the sasuke era of her life and forming an identity separate to that, to the extent that she may or may not try to, and she may or may not succeed

#i say there should be more fic #and partly what i mean is #i wish i could write these fics faster #blank period karin is sooooooooo sexy and traumatized #i just wanna hurt her a little more #hop in the car bitch its time to undergo the mortifying ordeal of being known #i want to be nice to sasuke here but also everything i have seen indicates that he just dropped team taka and said later bitches #which is fine and good for him but taka was and is still ride or die for him #which makes them infinitely more interesting for that given how little sasuke pours into them post-war

[loveandscience]

been in and out of intense anxiety the last couple days, so maybe writing it here will help

Okay so my old dentist who I loved retired, and gave his practice over to a new guy. Tuesday, I went to try out the new dentist and very loudly in the next room while I had my teeth cleaned, he was telling someone how they didn't need a crown or something because God designed the perfect teeth system?????

And as soon as he introduces himself to me, he out of the blue goes on about a "beautiful sermon I heard" on the way to work, and how this really ill woman had so much faith that she would just get better, and that she "touched Jesus" and was instantly healed. I'm sitting there with his sharp tools in my mouth and he's going on a religious rant and what the fuck am I going to do? He does tell me I have 2 cavities, then overcharges me for the cleaning and "exam."

Decided I really needed a new fucking dentist, and thankfully my friends suggested some to try. So Wednesday, I called a place and they got me in, and they were so nice and professional and I really liked them! They did another exam on me and apparently the last dentist (maybe the one before, too) had missed an entire fucking dead tooth???? It's been discolored for years but old dentist never thought it was an issue... Apparently it's dead and needs a root canal. Who the fuck knows how long it's been dead. Terrifying. Also they say it's 3 cavities not 2.

Anxious about the root canal, I've never had one, and it's so expensive. The same day I have my root canal, I also am driving somewhere I've never been an hour away to see my new liver doctor, and that's also terrifying.

On top of those expenses, I'm hoping to sign kiddo up for Brazilian Jiu Jitsu lessons bc I think it'll be really good for them and they are really interested.

But I've also had several clients transition to every other week or end, which is good they're doing better. I also have less income though so need to market again for new clients. Husband was planning to increase his income by taking classes paid for by work, but the classes are taking so long that I wouldn't be surprised if it takes all year, which is not what we'd hoped for a timeline.

Pet Day at kiddo's school is coming up and last year's Pet Day, we brought our cat who ended up dying shortly after. He had cancer which obviously wasn't caused by Pet Day, but I do think he picked up a virus which might have exacerbated the cancer. I'm planning to make sure every kid sanitizes their hands before touching the cat we bring this time, and bringing the young healthy one instead of the old frail one. Still some anxiety.

Wanted to take kiddo to this snow place in FL this weekend, but tickets plus parking are 100 dollars, yikes. So been incredibly anxious about that. Just before clicking buy I checked and it's supposed to be thunderstorms that day, so texted the friend we were planning to go with and hoping we can put that off... Really anxious they might have already bought tickets even though they said they'd wait til after I bought ours (maybe they could pick up on my anxiety around committing, idk).

So the common theme, laying these all out, seems to be financial. Which is sad, because I wanted to scale back on work and be able to rest more and focus on my health, but with husband not likely to be making much more money any time soon, it means I need to work more hours. Which is hard with the amount of dr appointments I'm going to have to be having.

At least... I got a little while of getting to work out almost daily and rest up.

#personal #long post

[wildermouse]

Anything new lately? How are you?

ahh !!!

so like in life, nothing has really changed. my sister is back home for now and it’s been good hanging out with her. feel like i’ve really been bonding with my sisters this past year and it’s been nice.

i did, however, go to a Lights concert (my 7th or 8th one i think) and i held her hand (again) and it was amazing but what was even more amazing is that i dressed in a STATEMENT outfit (will post pics) and it was revealing and it was HOT and i felt GOOD and i got so hyped up by everyone even my MOM who only scolded me bc apparently i shouldn’t have been wearing any underwear with the pants i was wearing 💀💀 (pls mom they matched my top it was a good look (you’ll see)) and my friend & i went to a taphouse beforehand and got a couple drinks (i haven’t drank with anyone in SO LONG) and i got a little tipsy and we laughed SO much and it was healing and then i got two more drinks at the concert so i was feeling GOOD and i initiated conversation with this group of girls beside us and we mingled groups and i was so confident and talkative and flirty like oh my fuck i told them i was in my slut era and then my mom said she’s in hers too 💀 which they all loved and two of them at one point ran their nails across my scalp and the back of my neck and when i tell you i melted. jfc. in the middle of the club in a crowd at a concert. pls. and then i asked if anyone liked hugs bc i need a hug and this very tall hot woman volunteered and she held me dude. she fucking held me for a solid couple minutes and it was amazing. and then i hugged my sister and it made her emosh bc i don’t do that. there’s more to the night but oh my god it was just so fucking good. one of my favourite nights for sure. and the best part is i DON’T REGRET IT!! i almost always regret everything i do/say after i drink not bc i do anything bad it’s just that it makes my social anxiety fuck off so i’m more outgoing and vocal than usual. but nah, i was who i want to be. i’m growing.

i have TRAVEL PLANS !! my wifey is coming to visit at the end of next month and we’re gonna road trip!! gonna be so good i’ve been wanting to do this particular trip with her forever. then the rest of the plans are still up in the air but i’ll be going back to europe in the summer, and MAYBE in spring for a big tattoo but i’m thinking of postponing that til at least next year.

might move in w my mom spring-summer and start horseback riding again but that’s so complicated bc i’ve gotta take care of my sisters animals while she’s at work hhhh

i joined a warrior nun discord and have been making friends on there and it’s been sooo nice. i like actually have people to talk to. + the warrior nun fight is going so well and i love actually being an active part of the fight. y’all go watch warrior nun i s2g

idk like not a lot is currently happening but my mental state has been SO good since the beginning of the year. i think i was so burnt out for so long i needed last year to just.. lay down and do nothing. and it sucked, but i feel a lot better now. i feel motivated and i really wanna figure life stuff out. it’s hard bc it’s not all up to me but i’m working on it.

tomorrow is my birthday and instead of sulking away alone in my room i’m actually going out and bringing my friend with me and going to buy myself little birthday treats and getting tattoos and i reached out to people i haven’t seen in a long time and they’re hopefully joining me for board games and it’s just nice. the fact that i’m allowing myself to be happy on my birthday, to try and let myself feel worthy of others’ attention and time, to not beat myself up about wasting another year, so actually want to be seen. i think it says a lot about my mental state and i don’t remember the last time i’ve felt like this for longer than 10 minutes before the guilt sets in

so yeah. i’m good. i’m really good. or at least i’m starting to be <3

[watch-me-try-to-write]

Writing Masterpost

Hi! Welcome to my writing dedicated side blog. My main is @made-with-magic and that's definitely where I talk and rb stuff the most but I wanted to make something dedicated specifically to just my writing, which is mostly fan fiction posted on ao3. Right now I write for the Valorant, Spider-Man, and CODMW fandoms, but I will most certainly be branching out to other fandoms at some point bc I'm a multi-fandom mess.

Anyway here's all my work so far:

Valorant

Floating - Short angst one-shot, Established Cypher/Sova/Omen

Summary: Water was the vast ocean, an unknown. The ocean had always made Sova uncomfortable, not quite scared per se, but just left him with a sense of unease. To not know what was under the dark depths, no real way of fighting it if it decided to take you. He had known people who had died from walking on the wrong part of ice, just because the water underneath their feet decided to end them.

Published: 2022-07-11 Words: 2101 Chapters: 1/1

Its the Holiday Season (and everything that comes with it) - established Cypher/Sova/Omen fluff chapter, Cypher/Omen focused first kiss.

Summary: Apparently, the ‘no fraternization’ rule that most people usually softly ignored was even more disregarded during the holidays. Omen could see the couples forming across the room, caught up in the buzzing energy.

Even Brimstone, who was supposed to be the one enforcing the 'no fraternization' rule, was standing on Kay/o's bent arms like a ladder to hang mistletoe in one area of the room's ceiling. A mistletoe. They were a secret government shadow organization and there was a mistletoe in their common room. - - - AKA. my friend suggested i write "soft cyphmen (or cysomen) where omens never celebrated christmas before cause he had no one to celebrate it with but now he does and cypher goes all out to make it extra special for omen djfhjfjfhdjfhfjr

Published: 2022-08-24 Words: 5045 Chapters: 1/1

Policy 9.13: No Fratenization - Established Chamber/Breach, angst with an open/unfinished ending, written for a friend

Summary: Every agent in the Valorant protocol got hurt. It was part of the job. A bullet wound, a broken ankle from jumping off of something they shouldn't have, hell, even death wasn't that uncommon for the agents. They all had experienced many wounds and the pain that came with it, until Skye’s warm herbal-smelling patch-ups or the cool feeling of Sage’s healing or resurrection got rid of it, and they were good to go back into the field. Good to go back to risking their lives for the Protocol, good to go back to fighting gods.

Breach had been in his fair share of fights, seen his fair share of blood and injured teammates. He always got over it. They all had chosen this line of work, and knew what could happen at any moment in it.

So why did seeing Chamber covered in more blood than he had ever seen scare him so much?

Published: 2022-10-28 Words: 10162 Chapters: 1/?

Golden Eyed - short oneshot with romantic tension between Chamber/Breach, written for ChambreachWeek2022

Summary: Maybe the reason he hadn't noticed was because it was very subtle, at first glance or with the normal lighting Chamber's eyes just looked like they were a simple brown color. But up close, with the right shine, there was a gold hue. It fit the Frenchman's theme and personality perfectly; the man's eyes were a piercing and beautiful golden.

They stuck in Breach’s mind like someone had personally painted them in his head.

Published: 2022-12-10 Words: 1856 Chapters: 1/1

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare

I used to. - short angst with ghost and his family, based off a tiktok, kind of established Soap/Ghost but not really?

Summary: "Wow. Wasn't expecting you to be good with kids Ghost,” he said back, smiling at the man's awkwardness. He could be the best sniper in the world, but he was still just a human.

Ghost shrugged. “Yeah. Used to watch my little brother all the time and would watch my Nephew every time I went on leave,” he said a little offhandedly.

“You have a brother? And a nephew?” Soap asked, surprised over the fact Ghost had shared the fact evident in his tone.

“Yeah, I used to.” ------- aka short drabble inspired by a tiktok in which soap is surprised ghost is good with kid

Published: 2022-11-26 Words: 1480 Chapters: 1/1

MCU

'hey are u like, ok?' - ongoing multi-chapter Peter Parker angst fic, slow burn and I do mean slow, updates Mondays

Summary: His neck hairs stood on end as he quietly walked away, praying that his footsteps were not loud enough to be heard. It was raining even heavier now, but it didn't mask the prickling feeling of wrongness that overtook him. He wanted– no, needed to find Ben and May.

He suddenly felt very small. No longer the brave kid that had offered to go on his own, but a small, scared child wanting his parents.

As he continued walking slowly away, he caught sight of whom the mugging victim was, at the same time they– both of the victims– spoke. His heart plummeted to his stomach, seemingly taking all his blood with it as he suddenly became lightheaded, Peter thought he might pass out. --------- When on one summer day a random mugger killed both Uncle Ben and Aunt May, Peter is left to the will of the world. This story follows his struggles through the foster care system, getting superpowers, and his maybe eventual romance with the person he last expected.

(stats are at time of making this list, assume it has been updated since) Published: 2022-11-22 Updated: 2022-12-13 Words: 15951 Chapters: 4/?

#my wrting #mcu #codmw #valorant #angst #fanfiction #fluff #soap/ghost #cysova #cypher/sova/omen #cypher/omen

[ima-ghost-art]

b, n, + w for the ask game!

OKAY!!

B- ima go with my current fav ship from my og fandom that, as much as I hate it, I still love it which is voltron. Technically no one themselves convinced me, but I saw the relationship in a fic by one of my favourite authors at the time that I liked, so ima count it (I'm usually the one convincing others with random rare pairs so) i was given Lance x Matt and utterly fell inlove. Like before hand I wouldn't have pared them but now i just want matt to marry lance to officially make him pidge's older brother!!!

N- 3 things I wish I saw more/in in stranger things is (1) kali, I really wanna see more of els sister tbh and I also really want to learn more about her escape and how she did that!!

(2) please please please can we adress Steve's truama!?!? My boy was thrown into this mess and managed to take down a demigorgan without even knowing what it was, got emotionally cheated on most of his relationship with nancy, was nearly killed by demodogs, then billy, then by the demodogs again in s2 all bc he wanted to protect these reckless kids (I dont even think he ever got an actual apology from nancy for the bullshit she put him through either) GOT TORTURED AND DRUGGED BY RUSSIAN SOLDIERS IN S3 no to mention the guilt he must feel for dragging robin into this mess aswell as putting the kids in danger, then watching billy die in front of max??? Then in s4 he has to watch max (someone he sees as his lil sister at this point) fighting this monster on her own with such a limited time left, then got literally dragged into the upside down, STRANGLED, PARTIALLY EATEN ALIVE, then after getting out, have to go back before he was even fully healed from the first time then the vines STRANGLED him AGAIN!?!?!?? Only to after severely hurting vecna, come back to Dustin (basically his little brother) holding the (potential bc I dont believehes actually dead) corps of eddie, his new friend he was definitely crushing on. Eddie who has apparently died the same way he was attacked before. LIKE THERE IS NO WAY STEVE IS OKAY AFTER ANY OF THIS?? YET SOMEHOW ITS STILL PLAYED AS A JOKE???? (I am very passionate on getting these characters therapy bro they've been through so much)

(3) let this fruit salad of a show be gay, we all know it is so just let it be gay!! Give steve his metal head bf!! let robin and vickie be cute band gfs!! Let byler be a thing and let them be happy!! Let max have both her gf and her bf el and Lucas!! Let us have our stoner bfs Jonathan and argyle!!! Let us have single queen nancy who knows shes bi but also knows she doesn't need to constantly be in a relationship!!!!!

(Bonus 4 bc I need to have wayne and eddie interact, they care so much for eachother and we were robbed of having them reunited)

And finally

W- (besides all the sex or die, sex pollen, and everything else that involves questionable consent) I have the most irrational hatred for time loops!! Idk what it is but even if it's the only completed, checks every other box for my dream fic, if it has a time loop? Fuck nope just no. I would rather read the fic from 2016 thats incomplete. I just despise it and I really have no clue why, no fandom would make me want to read that trope!?!?

Anyway hope you enjoyed this lol

#asks and replies #answered asks #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #stranger things #if steve wont adress his trauma we will! #max mayfield #let stranger things BE GAY #matt holt x lance McClain #matt x lance #latte voltron

[newhologram]

Finished the Lemire run today. So beautiful. Love its compassionate handling of mental illness. Did not expect Moon Knight to become my new Thing. It’s gonna be with me for a very long time and I’m so grateful for this aspect of my neurodivergence. I’ve never felt closer to a character, and there are a LOT of traumatized dudes I’m super attached to. A lot I’ve processed my trauma and anger, my gender dysphoria and dissociation through over 20+ years. But this hits so different, it’s uncanny how deep this connection is—especially as I’m navigating some intense stuff such as boundaries/cut-offs and suddenly remembering things through therapy in the past year.

Realizing just how much of my life I don’t remember, how I feel like I was transplanted here from another dimension at times. And then the stuff that I do remember can hit me like a truck. There are times when looking at photos of myself as a kid can be empty and confusing to realize that it’s me because I don’t even recognize that person. I apparently have some of their memories, but I can’t really be them, can I?

And other times, it’s so triggering, I feel this surge of hatred towards this little kid before it then transforms into anger at those who hurt them or didn’t protect them. I had to ask my family to take my childhood photos off the wall because it was literally making my suicidality worse.

It’s weird to really be able to grasp just how mentally ill I’ve always been and how precarious my life has been too. Friends have heard of my past and said, “HOW are you alive?” and at first I thought, well, it wasn’t THAT bad. But that’s a thought I continue to challenge. Because clearly my nervous system disagrees lol. I almost didn’t survive middle school, high school, college, or the years after when the trauma then blew up in my face and I was forced to confront it after a lifetime of thinking “people treat me badly bc I’m a bad person.”

Deprogramming is deep, dark work. Spiritually it’s not all sparkles and blissing out. Healing looks ugly. It’s raw and painted with the gore of all the alternate timeline versions of me who didn’t survive. Ultimately, integrating the fragments does feel beyond amazing in the present though. I’m not cured. I never will be. As hard as it’s been, I’m thankful for the unique perspective my challenges have given me. I’m grateful that I was forced to go through this at a younger age bc watching my family be unable to do the work is agonizing. I love them and want them to heal. I want deeper relationships and connection with them. But I may never get that. I may never actually be able to open myself to them, and I’m learning to be okay with that.

What’s most important, as cliche as it sounds, is the relationship with ourselves. Give it time.

tldr; this is the power of representation. It is healing and changing me rapidly. Thank you, Moony.

#moon knight #abuse survivor #ptsd #childhood abuse survivor #childhood trauma #teku

[ddontyyoukknow]

a wave

I hadn't realized just how many self improvement challenges i embark myself on until now! I was reading over a letter i was writing to my 30 year old self that is comprise of 3 entrees and in all of them i am doing a challenge and in the first two i didn't actually finish them like i actually gave up of them but i feel like during every attempt at a challenge that i do, rather than getting my entire life together i learn one thing at a time and piece it together little by little and thats whats gotten me to the point where i am rn. i must not fret if i am not completing the challenges as a whole, and i must take it for what its worth, adjust and continue. I am at a point of acceptance and gratitude and appreciation. I am fixated on going on lavish vacations and having a fabulous life. i want to go to japan and hawaii and france and i want to have a walt disney world vacation and i want to live in nyc and i want all my money ( a-lot of it) to come from my art. is that too much to ask. I think i am morphing into that person slowly and i think in this transformation the journey matters more than a transformation bc it will be me doing so many 180's. I have already changed so much in the past couple of months. I have garnered more and more maturity and so much patience and love for myself that my broken relationship with hard work and cleaning has started to heal in big ways- something like this is not accounted for in past challenges ive done and is very telling of why it didn't work out- I am still riding the high of cleaning up and flossing and showering and doing my chemical peel and shaving the other night! god did that feel good. I was feeling so horrible and i still got stuff done. thats something i havent expressed in these terms before but i sometimes feel so bad in my body when my mind is ok and wants to get up to do things and the number one thing i feel it could be rn is the whole way that my brain is structured into victim mode and how it expects everything to go awry. literally everything. i have felt this so deeply that i use to live in constant panic and learning about how untrue it is has been magical. little by little i come into power of myself and i learn that things are not scary or impossible. more and more i step forward to do things i once found scary and more and more i learn that there is nothings i cant do. which then brings me back to the mindset of wanting to start a challenge. its definitely a way for my brain to feel like its taking control of my life and its outcomes by telling it this is exactly what the next 3 months will look like when i know at this point that my spirit will take me on a joyride and will show me and give me wonderful things that i didnt even know i wanted. but yet the challenge will give me some structure to base my days on and at least for the first couple of days while its still fresh it should offer some excitement. i will say as well before talking about this challenge that i have a therapist/ doctor/gym/dentist/lawyer for the first time now! i got a teeth cleaning, a checkup, bloodwork, help with nutrition and i go to therapy every week. just having someone to listen to me has been so healing and nice. another highlight of my life right now has bee finding a community art studio where cool artist hang out to create, they meet every Wednesday. there is also aztec dance class every thursday i really want to go to, and i just went to the art institute with teddy it was so inspirational, i 2 weeks ago got to see the strokes!! and in about a month im going to see ESTERHICKS! when i found out she would be in town i almost had an existential crisis at work. teddys bday is in a couple weeks and idk what he wants to do. there must be something in the star rn. apparently for those of us that pluto in capricorn affected, the waves are leaving us and the astrological new year has happened and everything that we want and everything that we have worked hard for will start to come to us and our lives will 180 this year. its just in the stars. let me see...

[jackals-horny-jail]

continued thoughts bc Tumblr posted early and hfkdk stream of consciousness kinda im tired but also vibrating like :v

anyways. bashful sadist jackal vs fae prince who thinks they're precious and also Apparently Can't Die Now! the oral fixation biting fixation is so real. man's about to be their personal chew toy (ESPECIALLY in the fae au holy shit. jackal gets a lil too rowdy post hunt. love bites turn into harder bites turn into apologies while they're stitching up his throat and he can't LAUGH bc they got his vocal cords and it'll take a min to heal but they're covered in blood and still going 👉👈🥺 whimpers)

but normal verse they don't have the bite strength Quite that much so they're just. bites. holds and bites and shakes a lil. all the bruises everywhere 24/7. one (1) time they manage to break the skin and are immediately like 👀👀👀 vampire mode has now been activated thanks-

god tho rlly my man's fae + presumably old as fuck so that like. hfkd is part of why imo he'd be vibing like. He Has Done + Seen Weirder,

he's especially vibing when they slide up skirting around the requests and backpedaling and skirting some more (local mortal physically incapable of asking for what they want bc brain problems more at 11) an he finally coaxes out of them that they want to try. stuff with knives. and he's just like "yeah sure lemme clear my schedule'" while they're still. getting used to the fact He's Down HFKD

organs are fascinating tho but ngl blood is just SO. local mortal is absolutely enraptured by the way he bleeds when they stab them (+ the noises of pain he makes like HELLO they can't record him bc they're not gonna explain that later but. his choked whimpers definitely trigger a feral little part of them ) or when they drag the knife down his skin, alternating pressure to see the difference. getting permission one time to carve their name into him but it's fine whatever magic fuckery is keeping him alive also minimizes the scars so it's not THAT weird-

also you know they have 100% cut his throat like more than once. i have no idea where my throat fascination has come from but just Generally they're SO. gnaws

also they get very good at sewing him up i think like hfkkf he Could heal on his own but NO they have to baby him after and kiss him and thank him for playing their guinea pig

#nsft #barks #gore #anyways GOD the devil's week has kicked the fascination into overdrive #STILL TOO SHY TO GET HORRIFICALLY DETAILED BUT. HFJKRK

[iturmom]

Soft asks! Cuddles

i have two cats. one is a black cat named midnight (i did not name him) he was a stray and i noticed him limping up the road one day so i went to check him out bc i thought he had a hurt paw. no. his whole shoulder was ripped off. his ownder apparently tried to shoot him when he noticed it but midnight ran and he lived like that for two months according to the neighbors. i had these cat ladies come out and help me trap him and a year, three surgeries, and two different vets later he was completely healed. he is my son. we've been through a lot together. i've had him for six years.

the other is a tan tabby named honey who is perpetually kitten sized. i think her mama adopted her and her litter mate bc she is a black cat and both of them were tabby and white. their mama is also perpetually kitten sized. anyway it was winter and i had this old cat cubby on my back porch bc my ex's cat didn't use it and my cat didn't so i put it there in case anyone needed it. and then their mama (whom i called bean bc she a lil black bean) moved their little family into the cubby in the dead of winter. bean was very sick and she looked like she'd never eaten she was so thin and she (i assume) went out of her way to take care of these kittens who were not hers and since she was living on my back porch and i had a cat i started feeding her. i figured mama needed help raising the babies. i also put fresh towels in the cubby weekly for warmth and to keep them dry. so i've known honey since she was born. her and her brother were feral and they were terrified of me but when the raccoons started noticing i was putting food out for them, for their safety i had to start feeding them inside so all four cats would gather round for family meals and it was the highlight of my life. at first i had to open the back door and gtfo of there and if i moved closer to them they would scramble out the door. bean was not feral tho and in fact she adored humans. but the kittens were terrified. but slowly they warmed up to me. and got bigger. that is when i started calling them the chunks. thicc chunk was honey's brother bc he was very rotund probably from worms. and honey was lil chunk bc she was smol uwu. they would always be in and out of the house but i got tired of cleaning up bean's accidental diarrhea and thicc chunks purposeful poops bc he was afraid of the litter box. i loved them but their poop was bad for my mental health so they couldn't stay in the house for too long. but honey taught herself how to use the litter box so she would stay the night if it got too cold and stuff. eventually she got pregnant so she was staying with me more bc it was winter. in the last couple weeks she was in the house full time and when she popped i took my morning pee and heard a bunch of weird noises from the covered litter box. i was like wtf checked it out and five teeny tiney kittens! and one that was a still birth. they all died within a couple days and it was heartbreaking. asked the cat ladies for help. they found out she had fiv when she was pregnant again and the kittens would have died again anyway so they were aborted when she was fixed. i took care of her while she was healing and after all of that she had imprinted on me. she is still feral. she's terrified of humans anytime i had company she would hide until they left. but she was obsessed with me. she's my little girl.

i took them to alabama with me and then my life was practically ruined and i haven't seen them in over a year. i can't have them at the program i live at. i miss them and worry about them and i have so much guilt. midnight is 8 and with fiv he's not expected to live much longer than 10. i worry he'll die before i get him back. i love them so much losing them was like losing my heart. they are everything to me. but on the year anniversary of the last time i saw them i found out that they are okay which was a relief but i still miss them so much

#hi cleaning out my drafts and i have literally no clue how this ended up in my drafts. i never drafted this post i just posted it. wtf #maybe i drafted it bc it's too depressing?????????????????????????? #idfk. sorry anon that this for some reason never got posted and your question went unanswered. #i really do appreciate it when y'all interact with me and stuff

[other-peoples-coats]

📓 👀

(for the daydream plot ask meme) TIMETRAVEL, BUT MAKE IT COMPLICATED. Ok, so. Several council members are yeeted back in time at the moment of their deaths, mentally — ie. die, and then wake up back in the past, not body doubles or anything. Mace, Plo Shaak and Kit, all of whom wake up in the halls of healing and proceed to Freak Out very quietly, because, like, what the fuck but also oh my god the sith. They work out that the others are also time travelers, and then proceed to conspiracy theory very quietly attempt to fix, y'know, the whole sith plot attempting to genocide them out of existence.

Mace survived longest — I refuse to believe he died when he got shoved out the window, he was kicking about in the rebellion era for a little while with a cybernetic hand and is very thankful and a little weirded out to have both hands back now — so he's kind of their point man, when it comes to 'oh we need to fix that too, turns out it was part of The Sith Plot.'

This is complicated, somewhat, by the fact that Mace just took Obi-wan on as a padawan. He didn't mean to! he fucked up!! he's not sure what they did but Qui-gon — instead of taking obi-wan as his padawan, as they're all pretty sure happened in the original timeline — was wildly cruel to initiate kenobi, basically accused him of being half a second from a fall, and then made him cry. Which: yikes what the fuck how did they screw up the timeline that bad.

None of them really knew obi-wan until he was, y'know, Adult; prior to that he was qui-gon's padawan, and also, it was like fourty fucking years ago for them. They collectively remember…uh, obi-wan had some fucked missions as a padawan? maybe he went to agricorps on a mission? no one is quite sure, because, like, it was a weird thing that mostly resolved itself, whatever the fuck it was. He grows up to be Obi-wan Kenobi, though, so it's not like they could let him go to the fucking agricorps. Best case, general kenobi doesn't exist and the war goes badly — if they can't prevent the war —, worst case, general kenobi does exist, but like. evil.

Unbeknownst to them, obi-wan was also shot back in time at the moment of his death. And then, because that boy has never met a problem he didn't attempt to solve all on his own, decided he was just going to fake his death and go into the galaxy to, y'know, deal with the sith plot all on his own. He's been alone for twenty fucking years after the genocide of his people. He can handle being alone but knowing they're alive.

He's not about to raise suspicions, though, so he accepts when mace offers to be his master instead of what happened the first time around, with bandomeer and the suicide offer etc — he feels a little bad, because he's 100% going to fake his death at the first opportunity, bc, y'know, sith plot to end, but mace is a busy man who's on the fucking council, probably he's not even going to mind too much, really. Qui-gon certainly wouldn't have.

Thus ensues two sets of time travelers being like who the fuck is doing that as team council and obi-wan make changes to the sith plot. Mace would be tearing his hair out if he had hair; not only is the butterfly effect apparently way more complicated than logically makes sense — they fucked up the death stick trade on ryloth, and now somehow three outer rim planets are in revolt???? (it was obi-wan) — but also his new padawan keeps nearly getting killed.

Obi-wan, on the other hand, is losing his damn mind. On the one hand, goddamn, mace is the absolute bastion of kindness and steadfastness and everything he always was! he didn't know that mace and shaak and plo and kit were friends, but it's so nice to see them, and he missed them, and for all his appointment to the council was kind of tainted by the war it was a community of friends who he missed dearly.

On the other hand, please, he is trying to fake his death. Please be less attentive. Please stop rescuing him from seemingly deadly situations. He's fine he just needs to be a little fake dead, and also stop the sith, and also not let anyone realise that he is a sixty year old in a thirteen year old's body.

#star wars #obi-wan kenobi #mace windu #time travel au #daydream plot meme #ask box meme #coats originals #yes the theme track to this is just the yakkity sax tune on repeat

[yoonpobs]

back-burner | christmas drabble

yoongi doesn't like christmas that much; but he loves you—that much

GENRE. fluff, smut

WARNINGS. christmas decorations bc we know how stressful it can get lol!!, Yoongi's POV!, yoongi is a teasing lil shit, yoongi is also deeply in love, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, cockwarming (ish?)

NOTE. i miss our back-burner couple even if it hasn't been that long 🤣here's them being the cutest ever. this takes place a year after the epilogue so some time has passed!!! there may be some plot/logical conflicts but we move LOL 💕

hope you enjoy this Christmas gift to ya'll 🥳 also...some talks about 👀will be seen in this drabble...which foreshadows future drabbles...hehehehheehhehehehehehe

(the back-burner couple will never leave us I love them too much)

WORDS. 6.2k

“To the left.”

Yoongi shifts, just a little because he’s anticipating another—

“No, you idiot! My left—not yours!”

And there it was.

“Love,” he sighs, and if he was any more observant maybe he’d notice how you preen ever so slightly at the term of endearment. “It looks fine. No one is going to notice if the star is point five millimetres off centre.”

You blink.

“So you admit it’s off-centred?”

Yoongi opens his mouth to refute your rebuttal, but it’s left to no avail when you wave him off, equally annoyed and frustrated when you gesture for him to step off the step ladder that enabled him to reach the top of your overly-ostentatious Christmas tree.

Yoongi’s spent a few Christmas’ with you, though they were nothing extravagant. It’s the first year that the both of you were really celebrating with each other, learning about the other’s quirks and requirements when it came to the annual celebration. Based on previous occasions, you weren’t quite particular with where decorations went, or what colour theme you ought to follow.

The thought, while exasperating on its own, still brings a semi-fond smile on his face that he hides so that you won’t nag at him for finding your vexation amusing. It was more that he finds himself settling into a sense of comfort that you finally allowed yourself to do what you like—with him.

“I can do it, you know,” Yoongi sighs, folding his arms across his chest as he leans against the wall next to the tree.

You’ve already replaced him on the step-ladder, hands busying themselves with manoeuvring the star on the top of the tree with snipers precision. Yoongi wasn’t even sure if the ornament was moving with how careful you were being with it, and the look of concentration on your face tells him that you weren’t listening to him. By choice.

“Please pay attention to your surroundings so you won’t fall and die,” he says blandly, “I’d be quite heartbroken if you did.”

You shoot him a snarky look, “Quite?”

Yoongi’s lips twitch in amusement when he sees you puff out in annoyance, an indignant pout on your face when you edge your head backwards briefly to observe the apparent angle of the star.

“Very,” Yoongi corrects himself with a small laugh before he makes his way behind you.

You were too focused on frowning at the inanimate object to notice his presence, more concerned about finding a way to telepathically connect with the star so it’d be your puppet and perch itself into a position up to your standards.

You were stubborn. Yoongi knew that. It was one of your few quirks that he accepted, knowing that it was never as harmless as people made it out to be. He’s learnt—known—that you were a little rough around the edges, but you were pure. Someone who needed someone else with a little more patience to understand the edges that carved out the beautiful, and unadulterated version of yourself.

So, when Yoongi wraps his arms around your waist to lift you off the step-ladder—you squeal. Then, you whine. And then it’s a thwack to Yoongi’s shoulder (the right one because as much as Yoongi has told you that he’s fully healed, you never wanted to leap over that barrier—it was endearing) as he laughs at your chagrin.

“Put me down!” you demand with a hiss, “Yoongi! Stop laughing!”

“No,” he says, and he’s glad he can’t catch the daggers you were shooting at him since you were facing forward. “Let’s take a break.”

“That implies the both of us were working,” you say dryly, “You stood on a step-ladder for five minutes. Yay. Would you like a medal?”

Yoongi huffs, “I—”

“God, the bar is so fucking low,” you mutter under your breath.

Before Yoongi can say anything to that, he tosses you onto his couch, earning an equally loud shriek at the way your body makes contact with the plush surface.

When he stands above you, you’re glaring at him so vehemently that your expression may as well as telling him to dig his own hole to get buried in.

“A half an hour break won’t hurt,” Yoongi smiles, kneeling down to reach your eye level as you scoff. Your arms are folded across your chest petulantly, pointedly avoiding the way Yoongi attempts to catch your gaze.

Yoongi rests a hand on your knee, squeezing the flesh as you pretend like it wasn’t doing anything to you. Frankly, Yoongi couldn’t tell with the way you were stubbornly clenching your jaw in vexation as you stare at the entrance of his apartment as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

You did this often. Get annoyed with Yoongi, stay silent; sulk; pretend like you were mad (maybe you were, but Yoongi likes to think you’re softer than you acted), and wait until Yoongi started to grovel.

Yoongi almost laughs, a smile threatening to make its way onto his face when the routine refreshes itself in his mind. If you were anyone else, he’d leave them on their own until they cooled down enough to listen to him, whether they agreed or not. But you were you, and as much as you exasperated him—he was a man in love. He was putty, and you had him wrapped around your finger whether you were aware of it or not.

Another squeeze and he notes you jolt ever so slightly, knees parting on instinct. He wants to smirk but he knows you’ll start cursing him out again.

“Sweetheart,” Yoongi murmurs, fully knowing that it was your favourite name. Gosh, you were unpredictable and predictable at the same time. Your nose twitches. Yoongi smiles. Score.

“The tree looks beautiful,” he reassures softly, thumb rubbing a soothing circle under your knee. He wasn’t lying. You did have an eye for things like this while Yoongi was rather simple. He appreciated aesthetics but didn’t place it as a priority. He valued company over outlook—but with you, he’d get both. “The house looks beautiful. You did a really great job at decorating.”

A shift. Your chest was slightly facing him despite your gaze still being trained to his front door.

You needed to hear these things. Yoongi knew that. You liked hearing that you were doing a good job, seeing the approving smile on Yoongi’s face even if he thought you didn’t need his approval. Who was Yoongi to deny you the everlasting truth he holds?

“You deserve a break,” he says softly, inching closer until he’s kneeled between your parted thighs, catching your dubious expression when he smiles up at you. “Let me take care of you, hm?”

“We need to finish the decorations,” you deadpan, voice impressively stable when you glare down at him.

Your legs make space for him.

“After.” He cocks his head to the side in a way that you claimed made him look cocky. But hot. Apparently. “No one’s coming over until 8 PM.”

“It’s five-forty, Yoongi,” you huff, flailing your arms to gesture towards the analogue clock on his coffee table.

“And Jungkook doesn’t know early even if it hit him in the face,” Yoongi snorts, hands now rubbing slowly up and down your thighs. You curse under your breath, something about wearing sweats instead of the shorts you were dawning. Yoongi’s not complaining. Easy access.

“Jimin said—”

“Jimin too,” Yoongi says quickly, almost huffing at the mention of the intern-turned-resident. You’ve taken a liking to his apprentice, and while Yoongi wasn’t…possessive, Jimin had a crush on you and Yoongi—well, he was your boyfriend; your partner—he was allowed to be sceptical!

(Jimin was nothing but polite to you, but the cheeky looks he’d shoot Yoongi when you weren’t looking tells him that Yoongi’s downfall was amusing to him.)

“What if Hobi comes early—?”

“I’ll tell him to fuck off,” Yoongi replies curtly.

You flick him against his forehead as he winces. You glare down at him, knuckle still pressed against his forehead so he couldn’t get any closer when you realise that he was edging closer to where he wanted to be.

“Haerin? Namjoon? You know they offered to help,” you remind.

“Namjoon would understand the innate need of a man to ravage his girlfriend in his own home,” Yoongi says.

A pretty flush appears on your cheeks as your jaw slackens. You always said Yoongi was too much. But he doesn’t think you know. Know just how much more he wants to give you—the world; the universe—all the multiverses out there if they existed.

“You’re so annoying,” you seethe.

“Okay,” he shrugs, then he shoots you a small grin. The ever soft tilt of his lips makes your features soften ever so slightly. “Now are you going to stop pretending like you’re mad at me and let me take care of you?”

“I am mad,” you snap weakly, fingers darting out to grasp at his shoulder when he suddenly pushes your thighs apart with his hands. “We’re supposed to be decorating—!”

“You know for someone who seems to really like Christmas, you’re very grumpy,” Yoongi teases.

You gawk at him. “I’m not grumpy! I just want the decorations to be perfect—!”

“And it is.” Yoongi presses a kiss to your inner thigh, arms wrapping around your thighs as he tugs you forward. You yelp, bum on the edge of the seat as he grins up at you so widely as if you were the one doing him a favour.

You were. Every day. Being with him. Staying by his side despite the hectic year the both of you had. And you were here, in his home, a plane ride away from the home you called yours.

(“Merry Christmas,” you had said shyly, turning up on his doorstep when he blinked at you. Shocked. Stunned.)

“What if someone—” you mumble, nibbling on your lips as Yoongi can’t help but smile at you. It seems like the only thing you can evoke out of him is happiness; apparent in his expression too.

“We’ll deal with it later,” he reassures you gently. Then, he peers up at your eyes when you finally decide to grant him the liberty of looking into your gaze. “Now, I want you to sit there and let me service you. Got it?”

“Don’t say it like that,” you mutter.

“Always telling me what to do,” Yoongi huffs, shaking his head as his fingers reach towards the band of your shorts, teasing. Featherlight. He feels the goosebumps raise on your skin as you narrow your eyes menacingly at him. “Relax for me, okay?”

“Don’t tell me to relax,” you snark.

Yoongi smiles. You were so stubborn. Noisy, when you didn’t need to be. He’d need you to be quiet, and he knew exactly how to get you that way.

Your fingers are still on his shoulders, and Yoongi takes a second to turn his head, pressing a soft kiss to your right knuckle. You pinch his neck, but it’s so light that it feels like a love tap. It probably is, because when Yoongi looks up with a pointed look, all you do is huff like the petulant Princess you were.

He pulls your shorts down, greeted with the bare sight of your pussy, already glistening with your wetness. He smirks to himself. You could play this facade as much as you’d like, but Yoongi knew you and your body like the back of his hand. He learned every bit of who you were; loved every bit of who you were—he knew.

“This isn’t a reward,” you warn, hands going to clutch at the strands of his hair.

Yoongi laughs, tugging you closer until he was eye level with your pretty pussy. Before you can yell at him for laughing at you—annoyed—he dips his head, tongue darting out to catch the drop of wetness that threatens to fall to the couch beneath you.

You gasp, a sound Yoongi’s well-acquainted with and even less tired of. He’d have you moaning for him every single second of the day if he had it his way. But you were ambitious, a lady with dreams and he respected that. He’d service you, day and night, every minute—anytime. He’d settle for these moments.

“Yoongi…” you say breathlessly, legs twitching when he hooks a knee over his shoulder for better leverage.

“Taste so good,” he whispers against your mound, tongue dragging up your slit to collect all your wetness towards your swollen pearl. When his appendage drags against the bud, your back arches, sensitive as ever and just how Yoongi likes you.

“Don’t tease,” you scowl, voice shaky when you tug at his hair.

“Me?” He feigns innocence, pulling away to shoot you a lopsided smirk as you glare at him, cheeks already flushed. Yoongi feels all the blood rush to his cock just by looking at your beautiful (yet, angry) face. “I’d never.”

Yoongi decides to spare you the wait, leaning in and wrapping his lips around your clit as you gasp, legs almost snapping shut. He keeps them spread, palm digging into the meat of your thighs as he laps against your sodden folds, your clit—swirling and pressing like he wanted to imprint himself upon your skin forever.

Yoongi loved giving head. To you. He never divulged his sex life with any of his co-workers, with the exception of Namjoon (and even then, the details were very sparse because your business wasn’t his—and he didn’t want anyone else to know just how amazing you were). But he’s heard stories of men who weren’t so keen on giving head, claiming that it wasn’t as satisfying as being on the receiving end.

Yoongi would always keep his opinions to himself but the eye roll remained. They were selfish lovers. Period.

Even if that was the case, Yoongi thinks you must’ve done some magic on him because anything you did, any little reaction you gave him—aroused him. He was insanely attracted to you, attuned to your body like a snake to fiddle and he could almost laugh at how whipped he was. Having you this way, spread out so pliantly for him, pussy clenching around nothing as your bud pulses against his tongue—was his definition of sexual gratification.

“Y-Yoongi—,” you mewl, legs clamping against his ears as he feels you shudder under his ministrations.

God, you were so fucking sexy. Your breathless moans, the way your fingers wrap themselves tighter around his strands of hair to ground yourself; the half-lidded gaze you shoot him from above like an angel peering over her people—you were so tantalising and Yoongi couldn’t get enough of you.

Then, powered by his devotion, Yoongi delves in deeper and sucks on your clit like he was on a mission to suck the soul out of your body. A high pitched sob escapes your lips, your legs vibrating by the side of his face as he smiles into your sodden cunt, feeling the way your hole pulses uncontrollably.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you chant, voice hoarse when you do juxtaposing actions—your hands pushing him away when he feels you shake under his actions, and your legs keeping his head firmly put where he wants to be. Either way, Yoongi wasn’t going to stop until you were coming.

“That’s it,” he encourages with a smirk. And to seal the deal, he adds two fingers—quick because he knows you can take it—and curls them up until it hit the spot that made you—

“Yoongi!” His name sounds like heaven when it rolls off your tongue and he’s so hard that it almost hurts. But he’s on a mission to get you off. A reward for himself despite your earlier warning, and an act that fits into the context of gifting season.

You cum. Loud. Wet. Messy. The sounds are so obscene when Yoongi slurps against your oversensitive cunt, your hands weakly pushing his head away with a breathless whine when he continues to lap at the honey that pours out. You taste so good that Yoongi’s head is a little hazy. Your wetness is smeared all across the bottom half of his face and he couldn’t have had it any other way.

When he pulls away, he feels fucked out—and he watches the way your chest heaves up and down in exertion when you stare at him with a dumbfounded expression.

“What the hell,” is all you say. He knows it was good, and he gives you a parting kiss to your thigh before he pushes himself up.

“Tis’ the season, sweetheart,” he smiles.

You gape at him, your eyes boring into his skull as if you were attempting to regain some sense of consciousness. But before Yoongi can ask, you’re pulling him down onto the couch with you, and with wobbly legs—you perch yourself on his lap.

“You can’t just do that and not give me your dick,” you deadpan.

Yoongi blinks, then he bursts out laughing. His shoulder shakes when you continue to glare at him, both in annoyance and in desire.

“Thought we needed to get back to decorating,” Yoongi throws your own words back to you as your face morphs into a scowl, brows furrowed in a way that tempts Yoongi into brushing his thumb in-between them to placate your expression.

“Now you want to decorate?” you scoff, hands resting on his shoulders as his own naturally find their way to your waist, squeezing the flesh that’s bare of clothes with the way your sweater has ridden up.

“Someone once told me that the decorations needed to be perfect,” he shrugs noncommittally, thumb rubbing against your skin as he feels you shudder under his touch.

“Well that someone wants you to fuck her,” you snap.

“I have a girlfriend so I don’t think she’d be too happy about that.”

You roll your eyes, and Yoongi feels all the more accomplished when he spots the quirk of the corner of your lips at his silly statement.

“At least I know you won’t go run off with some lady,” you huff as your hands are busy with the drawstring of his sweats, already palming his hardened length over the fabric.

Yoongi’s breath hitches, feeling the heat in his body travel to his lower region with the way your tinier hands engulf his cock over his sweats like second nature.

You looked so pretty like this. Your hair was slightly matted down after your shower when you left it to air-dry, and there’s the semi-permanent frown on your face that he always jokes about being good for pre-mature wrinkles—but it’s you. The same girl, woman, he’s loved since he was eighteen. Now, the both of you were older, and finally together.

It’s funny how things in life worked out sometimes.

“Never,” he grins widely, one hand retreating from your waist to stop you before you can get your hands under his sweatpants—even if his cock was dying for some form of friction, already riled up after witnessing your orgasm.

“Yoongi,” you whine with a pout, “We don’t have time!”

Yoongi smirks. “Then we can go back to decorating.”

You frown at him, and he spots the way your eyebrow twitches as he stifles his laughter.

“I don’t want to decorate now,” you sniff, “I want to sit on your dick.”

“Come on, has chivalry really died?” he muses, “Where’s my kiss?”

“I’m a lady, Min Yoongi,” you say with narrowed eyes, and Yoongi’s indulging in the way your cheeks flush a deeper shade.

“What happened to modern-day feminism?” Yoongi chuckles, voice lifting into a tease as you gawk at him.

Even if he was hard beyond belief, he enjoyed sharing moments like these with you. When you were you, and he was him. Where all your conduct and expectations were knocked over whenever you were with him; the little snarks that you’d throw at him when Yoongi would poke at your buttons. It’s a dynamic that’s always existed between the both of you—a push and pull that he’ll never get tired of.

“Are you seriously going to equate me not initiating a kiss as proof of how chivalry has died when you men were—!”

But, Yoongi’s still a man, as you loved to remind him whenever he’d annoy you a little more than usual. And despite the way he loves having you like this—he wants to be inside of you, to fill you up to the brim and feel your heat envelop him like you were made to take him.

So, Yoongi wraps his thumb and index finger around your chin to swoop you in for a kiss, pressing his lips tightly—yet with warmth—against your own, feeling the way you immediately melt into his touch.

“I’m teasing,” he reminds lightly, still murmuring the words against your lips.

“You’re so annoying,” you say breathlessly, and then you’re pushing back onto him until his back hits the back of the sofa.

You waste no time getting him out of his sweatpants, haphazardly tugging the material down until it pools under his thighs as opposed to getting it fully off of him. As expected, you were on a time crunch and you were a woman on a mission.

“Use your hand,” he directs, leaning back to enjoy the way you take charge even if it’s just for a moment.

You lift yourself off his lap ever so slightly to wrap your hand around his shaft, eliciting a hiss from Yoongi when he feels you squeeze the base of his cock. Yoongi usually took control in the bedroom even if it wasn’t a fixed role. Naturally, you took control in most aspects of your life and even in the dynamics of your relationship—so you often allowed Yoongi full reign over your sexual reprieve. Yoongi didn’t have a preference but it would be a lie to not admit that seeing all the ripostes filled with fire die on your lips when you sought for his commands—his validation—was enthralling.

“Slowly. Just the tip,” he continues, voice strict as he sees the way your lower lip juts out in potential defiance. He shoots you a look. A warning. He wonders if you’ll decide to disobey today.

“It’ll fit,” you whine, “You always fit.”

Yoongi hides his groan well. His eyes flutter shut ever so slightly when he feels himself lose control when the tip of his cock breaches your fluttering pussy. He’s been inside of you enough times, but every time is a new experience. He’d never get tired of the pop that it makes when he passes the threshold, the gasp that you and he let out as if you were synced to each other.

“Patience,” he says with a small smirk, thumb rubbing against your cheek when your teary and desperate eyes peer up at him. “Sink down just a little for me.”

You do, and he feels more of your heat engulf him as his other hand squeezes around your waist. God, the way you were pulsing around him makes his head spin. But the way you squirm above him is even better. So, he holds out a little bit longer, taking every bit of self-control to not fuck upwards until you were putty in his arms.

“Yoongi please,” you mewl, forehead dropping onto his shoulder as he laughs. The vibrations cause you to let out a breathy whimper when his cock jostles ever so slightly in your cunt. You wrap your arms around his shoulder, clinging onto him as if he was your last lifeline.

“Doing so well for me,” he croons, tracing his fingers up and down your spine as you shiver. “Last bit for me, love. You can take it.”

“I can,” you warble, finally sheathing his cock deep in your cunt as you let out a sinful gasp, head was thrown back when he’s nestled deep in your pussy. You didn’t top often, mostly because Yoongi was so big that it made you feel so whole—according to you. But when you did, Yoongi knows it’s an experience that the both of you want to replicate, over and over.

You don’t move, your manners impeccable when you await his commands. Yoongi knows that you know that he’d never really punish you for disobeying him. But he knew that you liked this—liked waiting for the green light; liked the way that Yoongi controlled your actions that delivered mind-numbing pleasure.

You rest your hands on his chest, and he slowly palms your waist—then the underside of your breast, and finally your mounds as you remain still on his cock.

He slips off your sweater with ease, no dragging it out—nothing particularly sexy about it. Almost intimate when the two of you share a smile. Soft and warm. Just like Christmas. Just like this moment.

“Thank you for coming,” Yoongi whispers, suddenly feeling sentimental. Really, he always felt this way around you. An overwhelming sense of feeling that he needed to get off his chest. He never knew he could be as expressive as he is, not until you were his, and him—yours. “Thank you for decorating my home. For inviting everyone over to spend the holidays with us.”

You flush. You’re not usually this shy. But you hide your face ever so slightly when you duck your head down.

“You don’t need to thank me,” you mumble. It’s intimate; the way his cock is firm inside your cunt—hard as a rock—as you possess the ability to rock forward and bring the both of you home. The both of you choose not to, just for a second. “I never got to celebrate Christmas like this. It’s…nice.”

You say the last part quietly, voice hushed in a whisper as Yoongi shoots you a small smile. When you look up, your cheeks are so flushed that he’s tempted to tease you. But you squeeze his shoulders, a nervous habit whenever you felt like you were about to go on a ramble. Yoongi knows this, so he waits.

“Christmas wasn’t fun,” you tell him, “My parents never really cared for the holidays. And Haerin…well, we weren’t close. You were the only one that really paid attention to me so…I wanted to do this right.”

Yoongi’s heart clenches at your soft tone, almost as if it was your inner-child speaking and not you. You rest your cheek against his chest as he holds you tighter to his body.

“I’m sorry for being so…anal about this,” you wince, “It’s just—I want this Christmas to be perfect. And I want things to look pretty so we can take loads of pictures for memories.”

“You know this Christmas is already perfect because you’re here with me, don’t you?” Yoongi finally speaks up, the words uttered into your hair as you scoff.

You pull away, the you that he’s always known slightly returning as you narrow your eyes at him.

“Don’t be such a cheeseball,” you say with a scrunch of your face, “You know what I mean! It’s our first Christmas together and I want it to be special! And you think the star is fine when it’s clearly off-centred! You know—I really hope our kids don’t inherit that habit of yours because—”

Yoongi freezes, his hands stilling against your waist as his eyes blow out wide. You’re still rambling, going off your mini tirade. Your mouth is moving but he can’t really piece out anything except for the fact that you took a one-eighty and was now calling him an idiot, along with some other words that he’s gotten way too used to.

Kids.

Our kids.

Yoongi’s heart seizes in his chest, and he can already picture it. Years from now. Or even a year. Who knows—fuck, he doesn’t care but he can see it. Christmas Eve. You’re decorating the tree again, and Yoongi isn’t helping you because your daughter—or your son—or both—is helping you. They’ve inherited your stubbornness that takes years of Yoongi’s life away, but also your livelihood, the energy that brings you so far—and it makes his life brighter.

He sees the matching sweaters, a cheesy tradition that he never liked until this picture came to mind. He sees the hot chocolate; the whipped cream moustache that he doesn’t tell you about so he can snap a picture. Fuck. He sees it all—and suddenly, he needs to—”

“—like I know it’s not that deep but it is! The star was off-centred, and it’s obvious—” You don’t finish your words because Yoongi’s planting his feet against the floor, and hands around your waist, before he’s thrusting upwards.

“Fuck!” you squeal, caught off guard by the sudden force that knocks the air out of your lungs. But Yoongi’s delirious, the visual in his mind never leaving when he continues to fuck upwards, deep into your sodden pussy as you let out cries of pleasure at his ministrations.

“You want my kids?” His voice is uncharacteristically soft for someone who’s holding you so tight to his body, thrusting his shaft deeper and deeper into your hot walls as you cling onto him for support.

“I-Is that what—fuck—you got from what I said?” you snap, but he knows you’re flustered. You’re glaring at him, but your mouth falls into a pretty little ‘o’ when Yoongi pulls you down on his cock at the same time he thrusts upwards.

“Tell me,” he grunts, feeling the way your cunt clenches around his length as he lets out a low groan. You moan a high-pitched sound that he freezes to memory as one hand releases your hips to tilt your chin up so that you were looking at him. “Tell me you see it too.”

“Y-Yoongi, shit, fuck,” you babble on, mewling incoherencies as your eyes meet his manic ones. The sound of skin slapping against the skin is obscene, and the Christmas music you were playing earlier is muted by how loud you’re getting, along with the squelches of your cunt.

“Tell me,” he growls, “Do you see it? Christmas morning? With me? With kids?”

You squeal when another hand leaves your hips to play with your clit. The arms around his shoulder are the only things keeping you rooted in position as your eyes pierce into his own. You felt so fucking good around him that he feels himself already losing it—but he needed to know. He needed to hear it from you.

“I-I—” You’re struggling with your words because Yoongi’s fucking you so hard and fast that it’s a little hard for him to think too.

“Fuck, I’ll give you kids, all right,” he snaps, bringing your lips to him and captures it in a blazing kiss. You moan into his mouth when he bites on your lower lip, all while he speeds up the finger working against your clit. It’s pulsing. It’s wet. You were close—he could feel it. “I’ll give you everything you want. A home. A family. The world.”

“F-Fuck, Yoongi,” you sob, “I’m going—I’m gonna cum, please, please—”

“Shit, I’m so—” Yoongi laughs tightly against your mouth, the both of you breathing into each other as he shoves his cock upward and stays there for a beat longer as you let out a garbled moan. “You drive me crazy, you know that?”

You pull away to give him a tired but satiated smile. “I-I’ve—ah—heard.”

“Look at me,” he whispers, hips still working upwards as he finally feels your vixen-like grip around his shaft. A guttural moan leaves his lips, his eyes shutting in a moment of weakness before they’re open again—only to see your gaze falling onto his own.

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commands, and suddenly—like magic—you’re clamping down on him as you convulse around his cock, legs shaking and body shuddering.

Somewhere in the midst of your orgasm, your shaky fingers find their way in-between Yoongi’s ones. You grip his hand so tightly, and he feels the press of the ring he promised you a year ago bite into his skin. It drives him crazy—crazy enough that he continues rubbing at your clit through your climax. Yoongi cums with you, hot spurts with a promise painting your inner walls as you cry out his name.

Your sweaty bodies are pressed together when you attempt to catch your breath. Your hand is still squeezing Yoongi’s, and he doesn’t intend on letting go either. He feels his cum leak out of your cunt when he begins to soften. You don’t make an effort to move, only rests your head against his shoulder as he feels your chest heave.

The two of you stay there. He’s not sure for how long, but it feels nice having you against him like this. He should probably pull out and clean up the mess before guests actually start arriving while the two of you were anything but presentable. You’d probably yell at him for dragging you into this. And he’d let you, every—single—time.

“Love,” he murmurs, wondering if you’d fallen asleep. You got tired after sex, and while he wanted to let you rest—he didn’t have an eye for aesthetics like you did. He didn’t want to burn twice. But his curiousity—his desire—still wins. “Were you serious?”

He feels your body stiffen ever so slightly before it relaxes. He helps your body upright so that he could see your face when he got an answer. He could wait; he knew people said things during sex that didn’t really translate into their daily lives. He just needed confirmation.

“I…”

“I was serious,” he adds on softly, brushing hair away from your cheek when he pulls your face closer, nose brushing against your own. “I’ll give you anything you want. And if you want…”

“I do,” you mumble shyly, looking away. “I want…kids. With you.”

Yoongi feels his heart soar, and he really can’t stop the wide grin that appears on his face when you snuggle into his chest, playing with his fingers as you look anywhere but his face.

“I mean obviously we’d have to be married first but I still want kids,” you say quickly, almost childishly as if you were hinting at something.

Yoongi smiles, looking down at you as if you had painted the star in the sky for him.

“Obviously,” he reiterates with a teasing grin. “You just got to be patient.”

You huff, opening your mouth to say something before you decide against it. “No public proposals. I don’t want to break your heart in front of an audience.”

Yoongi hides his laugh. “Okay. Thank you for your consideration.”

“And…” you continue, words muffled with the way your cheek is pressed against his chest. “Nothing gaudy.”

“Got it,” he nods. He knew that. Of course, he did. But hearing it from you, speaking as if your future together was absolute—made him softer around the edges. The way he’s like only when he was with you.

“But don’t make me wait forever! I waited this long to…” you trail off, sheepish. “…to be with you…and I don’t want to wait too long. If not I’ll be infertile. And old. And ugly.”

God, Yoongi’s heart was going to burst. He can’t help the laughter that bubbles inside his chest as you scowl at him with an annoyed glare.

“Whatever happens, I’ll never leave you,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to the peak of your cheekbone as you sniff, pleased. “You got to try a lot harder than that.”

“You better not,” you warn, hugging him tighter.

A beat. Yoongi’s heartbeat—he’s sure you heard.

Then:

“I love you,” Yoongi says.

You smile into his chest.

“I love you too,” you murmur, shy.

Just as you’re about to lean up to press a kiss against his lips, his phone vibrates in his pocket. It’s a surprise that it’s managed this far through your escapades. He shoots you an apologetic expression as he fishes for his device.

When he slides open his notification, he’s already bracing for another round of expletives from you.

From: Kim Namjoon

Haerin and i are 5 minutes away. hope our presence can help w the decorations lol

Also, dw, ___ is scary but at least you’ll have back-up

#back-burner #back-burner drabbles #yoongi fic #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #christmas drabble #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #fluff #smut #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts smut #bts x oc