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lvrxly · 5 months

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ִ ࣪𖤐- An Odd Feeling

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

summary: your neighbor, Simon, is a single dad. and you frequently babysit his son, Oliver. You've grown to love Oliver, buying toys for him, planning play dates, and even offering to babysit him while his dad goes on a date..wait what? You really thought after all of this Simon would choose you, but maybe he will..?

cw: simon is somewhat oblivious at the beginning >:((, mdni - smut, slight age difference (Simon is in his mid-30s while the reader is in her mid-20s), unprotected sex, breeding kink on Simon's part, oral sex (f receiving), Simon can't help but want another kid after seeing how you treat his :((

a/n: sorry this took so long to get posted! and i apologize for any grammar mistakes, i don't have the energy to edit this right now ;( (it's almost 4am).

hope you enjoy lovies ;)

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"Thanks again for this love, I should be back around 9pm, please try and get him to bed before then," Ghost says frantically as he passes his son over to you along with his diaper bag and favorite blanket.

There was that damned nickname again. 'Love'. Simon always seemed to call you love, it was almost infuriating how that little pet name could make your heart race and your cheeks heat.

Simon had a date with someone a friend of his set up for him, Soap, you think was the guys name. From a photo Simon showed you, she was pretty, gorgeous even. Slim and tall, long blonde hair, and seemingly put together.

"Yeah no problem. Have fun, try and get laid. You definitely need it," You say with a dry laugh, bouncing his son, Oliver, over to your other hip. Why the fuck would you say that? 'Get laid?' Why would you even suggest such a fucking thing knowing you can barely stomach watching him go out on this date in the first place.

He cleans up nice, a fitted pair of dark grey khaki pants with a white button up shirt, the sleeves rolled, revealing his tattooed forearms, and his sandy blonde hair slicked back out of his face, making him less shaggy looking than you were used to.

Simon laughs and waves goodbye as he turns on the heels of his dress shoes and hops down the steps of your front porch. You wave at his back, shutting the door with a heavy sigh. You turn around and set Oliver down, watching as he bolts toward the little corner of your living room which you had designated as his play area for when he comes over.

Your heart feels heavy as you walk over towards your couch, tossing Oliver's diaper bag and blanket onto one of the cushions. You flop down onto the other cushion, kicking your feet up on the coffee table that is placed in front of your couch.

Oliver looks just like his father, from what you could see anyways. Dirty blonde hair, gunmetal blue eyes, and a small dimple on his left cheek. He was an adorable kid, an easy one to babysit too.

Oliver runs up to you, a toy tractor in his hand as he holds it up to you, his other hand rested on your knee as if to help him balance better. "Tac-tar!" He exclaims.

You smile at him, taking the toy he was offering you, and touching your fingertip on his nose, causing the little boy to giggle. Enough about Simon. Oliver was your date tonight. Your own play date buddy.

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It was a little after 9pm, maybe just about 9:47, when Simon got back. He had knocked on your door for a good 5 minutes before he gave up and decided to let himself in.

He used the key that you would poorly hide under your doormat. The two of you would get into arguments about the placement of the key.

"It's the most obvious spot, love, you're gonna end up getting robbed on of these days." Simon had said the day you told him where it was, he was always worrying about your safety. You knew he was an ex-military Lieutenant, but then again that might just be the dad in him talking.

After unlocking your front door and pushing it open he begins to speak, "Sorry I was a little later than I thou-" But he cuts himself off after his eyes land on your couch.

There you laid on your back, an arm falling off the couch and a leg propped up on the back cushion, snoring lightly. That position couldn't have been that comfortable. But that's not what made him freeze. It was how his son was laying on your chest, fast asleep with his favorite blanket draped over his back. You looked as if his son was your own.

His breathe is caught in his throat as he stares at the two of you, slowly shutting the door behind him as he makes his way over to the couch.

A small smile paints his face as he stands behind the small and slightly sad turquoise couch, bending down so his forearms rested in the back cushion. He watches you sleep, his eyes dragging up and down your frame. After a moment he uses a single finger to brush a stray piece of hair off of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

His smile never falters as he pets the back of his sons head, his long blonde hair slightly sweaty from how hot it probably was being all nuzzled up to you.

You stir in your sleep, your eyes fluttering, only for them to end up shooting wide open in shock. You gasp and clutch the back of Oliver, sighing after realizing who was really watching you sleep.

You sit up, cradling Oliver in your arms, careful not to wake him. "Do you normally watch people sleep?" You say with an annoyed look on your face as you rub your eyes, sleep still attempting to pull you back in.

After regaining most of your consciousness, you stand from the couch, your clothes wrinkled and Oliver's little head on your shoulder as you hold him in your arms.

"Eh, define normally," Simon says, a joking tone noticeable in his voice. Was he trying to make a joke? Since when did Simon Riley ever makes jokes? What the hell happened at the date?

"Your in a good mood. You didn't really end up getting laid right? You know what..? I don't think I wanna know." Your words are frantic and slightly irritated. Why did you feel so...odd right now? Simon is a single man. He has the right to go on dates with beautiful women. Unfortunately.

You bounce around your kitchen, rocking your hips side to side to keep Oliver asleep for as long as possible. You can't help but notice how Simons eyes follow your hips as they move. And..what was that? Did he just groan? No no, that would be crazy.

"No I didn't get laid," He finally replies. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. Almost like a breath of relief.

"If I was getting laid I would have gotten back a lot later..It takes more than 30 minutes with me, love.." Simon was suddenly behind you, his breath hot on your neck as his hands hover above your hips, heat radiating off of his tatted skin, almost scorching the flesh of your thighs through your pants.

You stop bouncing his son, glancing over your shoulder at Simon and..holy shit he was close, almost too close. Those damned eyes were pulling you under and you didn't know if you wanted to be saved.

Oliver shifts in your arms, waking up slowly. His tiny hands rub his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. Once he's awake and spots his dad he immediately makes grabby hands towards him.

You gladly hand him over to Simon, anything to get away from the man that was way way wayyyy to close for comfort. You give Oliver to his father and take a large step away from Simon. You see his smile falter but he quickly regains his composure when his son calls his name, his tiny hands on Simons cheeks.

"You have fun while I was away buddy?" He asks his son, to which Oliver responds with a vigorous nod. He then begins to blabble on about his trucks and snacks he ate, but you space out, your eyes still locked on the two of them.

Simon looked so good with a kid, he was a good dad. You can't help but imagine how good he must have been to his wife while she was pregnant. Her lose for leaving him. He's a great guy. Unfortunately, that means women probably throw themselves at him. Hot, ex-military, AND good with kids??? Yeah, they definitely do. And you would to, if you were so full of self doubt.

"Love?" You hear Simon say, his eyes now focused on you as Oliver was seemingly put down to go play for a little longer.

"I asked if you're free this weekend? Oliver is going over to his grandparents for a few days and I was wondering if you'd like to do something?" His voice was shy...that was weird. It's almost like-

"Are you asking me on a date?" You say, a teasing smirk playing across your lips.

"No no, well- no it's not like that. Just as friends, you know- without the ruckus of that one running around." When he says "that one" he points towards Oliver, who was currently crashing two tractors together and making a crash sound with his mouth.

"You know what? Sure Simon. I'll see you then."

He smiles, nodding softly as he runs his hands through his hair, the gelled effect must have worn off because it was back to its shaggy state, almost getting to the point it reached his eyes. He needed a haircut, but it's not like you didn't like the shaggy look. It was unexpectedly sexy.

Maybe it was just your hormones talking but everything about this man was unexpectedly sexy. His tired eyes from sleepless nights and early mornings, his tatted arms, a few of the tattoos colored in with what seemed like marker from Oliver, and his tall frame, almost towering over you to the point you had to look up to see his face.

You did suggest that he should get laid, but maybe you're the one who really needed the action. It's been who knows how long, and your getting so desperate that you literally can't look at him without butterflies fluttering in your stomach as well as..further south.

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After sending Simon and his son home, you immediately ran to your bedroom, quickly stripping out of your clothes and hopping into the warm water of your shower. With your back to the water and your hands in your hair, you can't help but let your mind wander back to your neighbor.

What was he doing right now? Was he helping Oliver brush his teeth? Was he just getting into the shower too? Was his shower water warm or cool? Did he have tattoos elsewhere? What did the soap look like running down his chest and down his legs..?

Okay, you need to go to bed. Sleep would do the trick. Right?

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Wrong. Sleep 100% didn't do the trick. Two full days of almost nothing but sleep and this man has been filling your head with thought of him, some more naughty than other. He had crawled into your dreams, your thoughts, and your daily life in general. You cant even pour creamer into your coffee without seeing his smug ass face in your mug.

It was now the weekend, around 7pm on a Saturday. The sun had already gone down and you were sitting in your living room, a random cheesy rom com on the television as you scrolled on your phone. You scrolled through your feed, seeing videos of your college friends out partying, drinking, and having fun. Then there was you, sitting at home with day old mascara on your lashes and sleep evident on your face.

There was a heavy knock on your door, with a raised brow you hop up from your couch and make your way over to the door, peaking through the peep hole to see who it was. And to your surprise, it was exactly who you were thinking of.

There Simon stood, a bottle of champagne and a single red rose in his hands as he bounces on his heels, he was back to his regular shaggy look, unkempt hair, white t-shirt, blue jeans, and his silver dog tag hanging from his neck.

Quickly, you open the door with a smile and invite the man in. As he walks in towards your kitchen counter you quickly become aware of your appearance. Old makeup on your face, and crinkled clothes that you couldn't be bothered to iron.

However, at this point the two of you have seen each other at your worst, hell you've seen Simon running off of two hours of sleep with a sick little Oliver who wouldn't stop crying and coughing.

"Champagne and a rose? This feels like a date to me.." You tease running a hand across his shoulder as you pass him, earning a shiver from the man. you stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island as he takes a seat on one of the barstool chairs you have, sliding the bottle towards you.

"Take it however you want love." He laughs, running his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face, his bicep flexing in the process, and holy fuck.

You shake your head and pop open the bottle of champagne. "I'm glad I know you and Oliver, he's a good kid."

"You're such a big help with the little guy, I honestly don't know what I'd do without you. He loves you a lot." Simon is more soft spoken than usual as he twirls the rose between his fingertips.

You're frantically searching your cabinets for those champagne glasses you got all those years ago but have never used. You swear you still had them.

"It's no biggy. He's a joy to have around and probably one of my only friends!" You laugh, sighing after you cant find those dumbass champagne glasses and grabbing two mugs out of the cabinet instead. Not quite what you'd normally drink something like champagne out of, but it would have to work.

"So I'm not considered a friend? I see how it is," Simon fakes a hurt expression as he takes a mug from you with a raised brow. His shoulders shake in silent laughter after he looks at the mug to which it read "Male Tears" in big black lettering.

You laugh along with him, "Eh, I kinda like your son more than you, he's less broody," You tease, pouring the champagne into each of your mugs. Your mug saying "Reading is Sexy" with blue lettering.

There the two of you sat, at your kitchen island drinking cheap champagne out of coffee mugs with a single red rose placed between the two of you.

After a few hours and an entire bottle of champagne, the two of you sat on your couch together, a movie on your tv.

You sat with your legs draped across Simons lap, his hand resting on your knee as his fingers gently rubbed circles into your skin. It tickled, but in a good way.

You fought sleep, your eyelids slowly shutting and reopening. Your breath was calm and slow, a comfortable silence had fallen between the two of you.

"Gettin' sleepy love?" Simon asks with a chuckle, his deep blue eyes lingering on you as he rubs up and down the length of your leg.

You don't bother answering verbally, you don't have the energy. You shake your head in a quiet and small 'no', your hand coming up to rub your eyes. What time was it? It couldn't be that late.

With a groan, you sit up and grab your phone off of the coffee table, tapping your screen a few times for it to turn on. Your screen nearly blinds you, a curse falling from you lips as Simon merely chuckles next to you. 11:57. Almost midnight already? You thought, there's no way.

Simon peaks over your shoulder and shakes his head, running his hands over his face with a yawn. "Surely I haven't been here all that long, it's definitely past our bedtimes," he teases as he moves your legs off of his, standing from the couch with a stretch, his shirt lifting, showing off a fucking happy trail. This man was too hot for his own good. It had to be a crime at this point.

You stand next to him, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you yawn, making your way lazily towards the direction of your bedroom.

"I better get ta' goin'-" Simon begins, before you cut him off.

"Oh please, theres no way in hell you came over here just to hang out as friends, Simon." Your voice is low as you stand before him, your bodies mere inches apart as you stare up at him. Messy hair, sleepy eyes, and those god damn dimples shining through as he smirks down at you. You fuckin' knew it.

His arms wrap around your waist, his face nearing yours as he walks you backwards into your kitchen, your hips hitting the kitchen island. "I've been caught."

His breath smelling of cheap champagne and cigarettes as his lips grazed yours. His lips are soft as he finally kisses you, fitting perfectly against yours.

Simons hands remove themselves from your waist, landing on the kitchen island, trapping you between him and the counter. You deepen the kiss, standing on your tippy toes to match his force, earning an audible groan from the blonde man in front of you.

When the kiss ends, nothing but heavy panting and quiet curses fill the air. "Fuckin' hell love.." he whispers against your neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses up and down your warm skin.

Quiet whimpers leave your lips as his lips work their way up to your ear, where he whispers a phrase that makes your knees want to buckle. "Get on the fuckin' counter doll, I've waited far to long for this and my tongue is tingling for your taste.."

Obviously, you do as he says, hopping up onto the cool granite. "Atta girl," he says, his voice raspy as he tugs the waistband of your pants down, pulling them off your legs as if he's been craving you for years. Maybe he has been..

In a swift motion he pushed you onto your back, earning a quiet yelp from you as your back touched the cold surface. With his eyes glued on your panties and his hands on your plush thighs you can't help but whimper, letting your head fall back onto the counter top.

"Fuckin hell lovie, you're already so wet..." Simon says through gritted teeth, the pad of this thumb rubbing slow circles against your clit, the feeling of the pressure over the fabric of your panties was enough for you to clench around nothing.

"Simon please-" you whimper, your hips rolling against his touch, eager for more. This draws a chuckle from the man in front of you, he pulls his hand away with a smug smirk on his lips.

Not another word is shared between the two of you before Simon is kneeled on the tile flooring and he has your legs over his shoulders, his face at perfect height with your core. He pulls your panties to the side, groaning at the sight before him. He was so fucking hard right now, straining against the zipper of his pants.

He blows a cool puff of air against your cunt, watching as it flutters before it, his smirk never falters as he runs his thumb over your cunt, coving his finger in your juices.

"Riley I swear to the gods, if you don't stop playing with your food-" you begin, getting cut off with his tongue against your slit and his thumb rubbing circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves. His tongue works in and out of you, flicking and sucking, the noises that fill the kitchen are positively hypnotic. Your whimpers and moans mixed with the wet noises of Simons tongue between your legs. And to top it off, every time you buck your hips against his face he moans, a low growl like noise that makes you absolutely drip.

Simon is only using one hand to hold open your legs, his right hand has traveled down to his pants, unzipping his jeans and finally giving himself that oh so needed friction that he's been deprived of. His tongue goes flat against your cunt, his head shaking side to side, flicking his tongue every so often, just enough to catch the tip of your clit.

He palms himself through his boxers, rutting into the palm of his hand. "You like that baby? You're gettin' louder.." he teases as he sucks on your clit, causing your back to arch off of the counter top and your hands to fly to his hair, tugging on the blonde strands, pressing his face into your greedy little cunt even more.

"Simon! Right fucking there, please please please..." You moan, your thighs threatening to close around his head as your legs shake with pleasure. Your breath is quick and your moans are loud as Simon god damn Riley holds your legs open, sucking and licking your clit, you were about to fall apart right then and there, but after he shoves two fingers into your cunt you absolutely crumble.

The orgasm rushes throughout your body, your grip on his hair tight. He doesn't stop though, his tongue stays glued to your clit, his fingers moving at a pace that makes your writhe, drawing out this heavenly orgasm as long as he can.

You're already fucked out as he pulls his fingers out of you, kissing your fluttering cunt, kissing up your torso and tugging your shirt over your head to kiss all the way up your lips. This kiss was everything passionate, the taste of you still lingering on his lips.

Your eyelids are heavy and your chest rises with a quick pace, still trying to come down from your high. Sweat glitters your skin, your panties hanging from your ankle and your mascara running down your cheeks. "So beautiful, so fucking gorgeous baby.." Simon whispers as he kissed you on the forehead, running his hands over your cheeks. "But we're not done yet, no no no, this night isn't over until I fill you up so full that Oliver will have a fucking sibling by tomorrow.." His voice is deep and sultry, pulling you up off the counter by your wrists and tossing you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes.

With a yelp from you, Simon gives a little smacks to your ass. His quick strides make it to your bedroom in no time at all. He tossed you on the bed, you landing on your back, your toes bouncing along with the mattress, earning a low curse from the man in front of you. He stands at the end of your bed, quickly pulling his pants and boxers off of himself. He can't go another fucking second without being inside of you.

The image of this man crawling on top of you, his ink covered arms on either side of your head and your legs on either side of your hips as he pressed against you. It was all so much, your cunt was dripping, and from what you could see so was the tip of his cock.

Holy shit his cock, it was huge, veins running up and down the length of it. You figured he was from the start, but now that it's in front of you, how the hell will it all fit?

His hands reach for your thighs, pushing them up so your knees neared your ears, the tip of his cock teases the entrance of your cunt, the bead of pre-cum smearing all over your clit. You wiggle your hips, eager for something, anything but this fucking torturous teasing that this man seems so obsessed with.

"Simon.." You moan, earning a groan from the man. His eyes have not left you this entire time, his gaze wandering up and down your figure with a look of biting desire.

"Moaning my name like that..fuck," He groans through gritted teeth, pressing the tip of his cock inside, fucking finally.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, biting down on your bottom lip as you grip the sheets.

Simons eyes shut with pleasure as he pushes into you. Only to open once again to watch your face, watching for any looks of displeasure, he makes it about half way when your eyebrows furrow and your hand flies to his torso, pressing against his abdomen as a way to tell him to stop for a second.

"It's okay lovie, breath, you're taking me so well.." He whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek, kissing away a single stray tear that had seemingly rolled down your cheek. Slowly, he continues to push into you, the two of you share a mutual moan as he finally bottoms out, his stomach pressed flush against your clit.

"Good girl, my good girl baby, yes.." He moans, his hands under your knees as he holds one leg over his shoulder and the other off the the side.

Your whimpers, his groans, and the smell of sex fills the bedroom. You rock your hips, indicating the need for friction. With pleasure, Simon gives you what you needs, rolling his hips and pulling out about half way before slamming back inside you. Your loud moans and pleases for more, more, more fill the room, causing Simon to let out a guttural groan, hai cock twitching inside of you.

Simon shifted his hips, dragging his cock out of you. It glistened with your arousal, and it made his face grow hot. He bit back a whimper when he pushed inside you once more. You gasped, and he did it again. Again and again until he had a set a rhythm that had your entire body on fire, writhing against the mattress.

"Yes yes, fuck Simon, makin' m' feel so good, I-" You whimper, your legs shaking and your eyes squeezed shut out of pure pleasure.

Simon had reached a hand down and was now rubbing circles on your clit. Your words had his brain swimming, his thrusts deepening and pace quickening. The tight ball of pleasure was drawing tighter and tighter in the base of your tummy, your cunt fluttering around his cock.

"Fuck baby, you feel so good..wanna put a fuckin baby in you lovie..." His voice is low, his groans turning into whimpers as his thrusts become sloppy, he's nearing his own climax. Your own peak is nearing, your cunt fluttering around his cock, clenching and squeezing as he moves at a pace that is absolutely intoxicating.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered. "Come on my cock. That's it, baby, yeah– good fuckin' girl."

His finger moves quickly against your clit, rubbing as his cock bullies in and out of your greedy little cunt. The force of his thrusts make your tits bounce, earning deep and needy groans from the back of Simons throat.

You came around his cock with a sob of his name, your cunt squeezing him tight as the ball of pressure snapped in your tummy. Your orgasm was hard, slamming over you and rendering you breathless, your head floating. Your clit pulsed beneath the movements of his fingers.

The tightness of your cunt earned a fucked out moan from Simon as he slams in and out of you, reaching even deeper than before. You wanted to scream. He was so deep. You were so full.

"Such a good girl, suck a greedy little cunt— so tight I don't think I'll be able to pull out-, yes baby.." He blabbered helplessly as he becomes utterly pussydrunk, his head lolling back and his eyes closing with pleasure.

"M'gonna come in this tight cunt," Si whispered, almost too quiet for you to hear. He spoke louder when he continued his sentence. "You want my cum, baby? You want me to come inside you? Want me to fill you up, fill this pretty tummy?"

"Yes! Please—!" You practically scream.

"I will— I'll fill you up with all of my fuckin' cum.." He moans, his thrusts sloppy and his grip on your thighs bruising. "Take it all like a good girl," he moaned. "Get you–fuck —get you pregnant. Fill you up with my kids. I'd look after you, baby."

You were basically screaming.

And with that Simon cums, your name falling from his lips as the white hot liquid spills from his cock into you. He doesn't pull out, tugging you up so that you straddled his hips, his hands on your as as he holds you up, him leaning back against the heels of his feet. The two of you share a tender kiss, his lips softly kissing your lips, cheeks, and neck.

"Fuckin' hell love.." He laughs, his voice raspy. He finally pulls out, a deep groan slipping from his lips as he watches his cum drip out of that sweet little cunt. Carefully, he lays you back down on the mattress, staring down at you with low eyes and a small smile on his lips.

"You were so good just now, you know that? So beautiful, so fuckin' hot-" He moves so he's laid beside you, his chest pressed against your back as he rubs small circles on your hip with his finger. "-I loved your moans, and the feeling of your pussy..just stay like this with me for a second, yeah?" His hand runs up and down your side, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as his breath tickles the back of your neck.

What an odd feeling. It all felt as if everything had always been like this. As if the two of you were meant to be, and this was all just natural.

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Simon and You sit in your living room together, his hand on your thigh and Oliver running back and forth with a superman action figure in hand making a 'swooshhh' sound with his mouth.

The promise ring on your finger sparkles as you look down at it, you can't take your eyes off the damn thing. It's been a week since he's given it to you, but every time you eye catches the little piece of jewelry you can't help but stare.

Three years of crushing and helping him raise his kid. One night of his name being moaned and orgasm after orgasm. Two weeks form that night he asked you out. It's been four months since he asked you to be his girlfriend. Everything seemed to be moving so quickly. But not, at the same time. It feels like you've know each other forever so it was natural. Nothing odd about falling in love so quickly.

Or maybe the love has always been there, it was the commitment and the confessions and the confusing mixed signals that were messing with the process.

But in the end everything had fallen in place. Simon still lives next door, but that is gonna change soon. He spends more and more time over at your place than his own. Both his and Oliver's clothes litter your laundry, and instead of one lonely toothbrush in the bathroom, there's now three.

Pink, Blue, and a tiny red one for Oliver.

This was how it was meant to be. Simon, Oliver, and you. And possibly another one. Simon is pretty eager for that addition. Now that was a little fast even for you.

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a/n: not to singledad!simon anymore. <33

p.s.- i tagged everyone who i saw asked to be, sorry if i missed ya! and thank you all so so much for all the love. i love all of ya so so much! <33

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ma1dita · 30 days

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now that we're older

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.5k

summary: (established relationship) The one where he asks if you can stay the night even if all of cabin 11 makes fun of him. Luke is tired of the routine. He just needs his girl. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: its really something about me always posting at 4am.... listened to three songs on a loop while writing and they were all called ‘older’. 5sos-> gracie abrams-> lizzy mcalpine—this works for the trajectory of trouble & luke if you give it a listen; anyways you guys deserve the fluff. PLEASE TELL ME THIS IS HAPPY (ignore the...tinge of angst) BUT THIS IS HAPPY RIGHT? RIGHT? scream at me in the comments & enjoy <3

(posted 3/26/24, semi-edited)

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Luke lets you love him in the nighttime.

It’s not to say that you don’t love him every second of the day and then some, but he’s much softer at night, weathered down and stripped of the many roles he carries. Maybe it’s the weight from the responsibility of being an all-star cabin counselor or the bone-deep ache of being camp’s best swordsman, perhaps even the ailment of being Hermes’ favorite forgotten son—but he endures until the night where he can lay it all down and be nothing but yours.

And you let him.

The mask usually starts to fall apart during dinner when he comes to sit at your table— besides the extra space, Luke likes intentionally knocking his knees against yours, the hand not holding his fork squeezing the inside of your thigh. He’s more open and receptive to your doting by the time the sun sets, fiddling with the hem of your camp shirt on the walks to the bonfire, letting you hang off his arm as you sidestep each other’s feet, hip to hip in hushed giggles. Whether it be chatty campers running through attempts at kisses, Chiron and Mr. D accidentally interrupting your loving glances, or occasional interference from the gods above, there’s only so many ways to be together in the in-between.

Tonight he’s yawning as he places his head on yours from behind, the both of you watching all your campers file out towards the amphitheater. A gentle smile graces your face and he’s warm all over, arms caging around your chest as you lightly sway against the summer breeze.

“You okay, angelface?”

Humming in response, he lowers his cheek to yours and whispers a proposition.

“Wanna skip the bonfire? Like how we used to…”

Turning to face him, your nose bumps against the scar on his cheek, and he feels the teeth of your smile on his skin as you mumble, “That was before cabin 7 needed an understudy for special requests, babe.”

“You could still sing for me. I’ll even clap if you want,” he muses before warbling out a few off-key notes to your favorite song until you’re a mess of giggles under him, fingers reaching up to cover his lips.

“That’s terrible,” you say between fits of laughter, until your eyes meet Percy and Grover’s wandering ones, “Hey! You two ready for your quest tomorrow?” Luke’s hold on you falters into an afterthought, fingers playing with your belt loops as the boys walk to the center of the clearing to meet you two.

He thinks about his little sister going on a quest to prove herself to her mother, even if it’s not her own cross to bear. He thinks about the satyr risking his life to protect another demigod who follows in his footsteps, and finally his dark eyes land on the sandy-haired boy destined to get caught in the crossfire. Luke’s feet feel heavy as if they’re cemented to the ground, and when you step away to greet the boys, he stays where he is. You misinterpret it for his fatigue, which is only part of what’s weighing on his mind.

“Luke? Go on ahead, I’ll cover for you. Get some rest.” But he can’t sleep without you; the times he’s tried are met with a touch of darkness only you can will away. He wants to hold on to you for as long as he can— Luke’s always been more vulnerable in the nighttime, with or without you.

Later he finds himself staring at the ceiling of his cabin, thrashing in the twin bed against the back wall as he rests his eyes and tries to get comfortable. There are reminders of you wherever he looks, gauzy white curtains strung up around his bed like swirling clouds, pictures of the both of you pinned to the worn walls of Hermes’ refuge for the unclaimed, and though he’s always known his heritage—the way he can pick out your voice through the sound of all the others that file in reminds him who his heart belongs to. Luke shuts his eyes until he feels your lips on his forehead, balmy from your berry chapstick with a hint of your smile. He murmurs your name sleepily, but your hands tickle his torso as you lift the hem of his shirt up.

“Woah there, keep it PG. There are children here!” Travis says mockingly, and the sound of giggles and shuffling sheets fills the room as everyone gets ready for bed. There’s a resounding thud that follows and that makes him open his eyes.

“Mind out of the gutter, Stoll! You know your brother overheats at night,” you mutter, and his hands are already ghosting your hip in silent confirmation. Tearing your lavender gaze from Travis who’s spitting out feathers from across the way, you look down at him and mumble, “Sleepy, angelface? They’ll do cabin checks soon and then it’s lights out.”

“Don’t wanna sleep without you. I can wait,” he slurs, saying your name slowly like he’s writing it out. Luke looks at you blearily when he sits up, rubbing the drowsiness from his eyes as he pulls his shirt off from the nape of his neck. When the orange fibers lift from his vision, he sees you in sleepwear (all stolen from his closet, just the way he likes it) and your face shiny with skincare.

“Was gonna get you ready for bed, babe. Got Lee to cover for me tonight and Beck and Katie are on morning shift. Wanna go to mine?”

He knows he should. The both of you never play hooky, not since taking up your counselor positions 3 years ago. Luke doesn’t remember the last time either of you were in bed before midnight and up before 6 the next morning. Never on purpose at least—the surprise jolts him awake a little as he cocks his head at you curiously.

“Got off the hook, trouble?”

The question makes you bite your lip, “You’re acting surprised. Something told me you needed it.” He flops back down on the worn mattress, far too soft with age that his back tweaks a little when he moves over for you and pats the space you’ll take up. It’s his though—even if it doesn’t have his name on it, and for once he just wants to sleep in here with his girl like everything is right in the world (and ignore that he’s about to tear it all up). He thinks he might actually miss this cabin, the sound of his scuffling siblings, the way things quickly disappear and reappear at the change of hands in this community of outcasts, but most of all, he’s going to miss you and how you can settle them down with a single hush.

“Can we stay here tonight? Too comfy. Never get to admire the little setup you made for me here since we’re in 12 so often.”

“M’not going anywhere, my love,” you whisper as you push back the curtains, climbing into his bed to cuddle against him, but he shifts so that his head is on your chest. Luke’s hugging you like he’s a weighted blanket, and he strings a garland of kisses along your collarbone leading up to the space over your heart. Running your hands through his hair, you sing to him quietly until lights out, not even noticing the change while you’re looking at each other eye to eye. No one laughs at your lullaby, the sound of your voice tucking the rest of the cabin to sleep.

Almost losing consciousness again, his cheek shakes with the giggle that rises from your chest as you whisper, “Didn’t know you put our camp prom photo up on your wall. We look like we hate each other.”

“You were so mad because I kept stepping on the bottom of your dress. Had to get your attention somehow,” he chuckles, before tightening his hold on you, “I knew I liked you already by then, too. Wasted too much time trying to get Chiron in a prom dress with the boys that I didn’t get the chance to ask you to dance.”

“Ended up on a bead though. Is that what that memory tells you, angelface?”

“You’re my favorite memory, trouble,” he sighs, muscles relaxing at the feeling of your fingertips tracing stars into the planes of his back. Then hearts. A squiggle of something you tell him is obviously a centaur, which makes his brows furrow, before he kisses your chin when you spell out your name. Slowly, like you want him to remember it. He does.

“I’m still here, silly—pretty sure to be a memory, time has to take me away first. Not letting that happen. Me and you forever if I can help it,” you say breathily, voice tinged with sleep and so much love for him that feels like it chokes you, but that might just be the angle of your neck as you try to look down at him again. Dopamine lines your system at his words, and you let out a strained sigh—lovesick and heady with the feeling.

“I know but you’re in all my favorite ones too. When I think of you, everything’s better. Like I didn’t eternally fuck up my fate before I even turned 20,” he jokes, and like a lot of them, they fall flat. You hope that by wrapping your legs around him Luke will know how much you want to crawl into his skin and hold his heart to protect it. That with you, he won’t ever have to be alone. Words are never enough, after all. Even if you have nothing you need to prove, it won’t stop you from trying to show him.

“Still a few weeks off, so don’t try your luck. There are worse fates than falling in love with you, Luke Castellan.”

He turns from the wall at the sound of that, wanting to disagree, but you kiss him before he can protest.

“I’m the lucky one. Sometimes I think loving you was the only thing I did right,” he murmurs, before drifting off. You’re the last thing he looks at before he goes to sleep, the way he likes it—like a longstanding memory he gets to keep before he’s vulnerable again in his dreamstate. He’s the strongest when you’re with him, and his brain goes quiet. No one dares to break him when he’s with you like this.

Not a dream, nor a titan.

You can't imagine sleeping another night without this crick in your neck with his name on it, the shape of him pressed into your body. With only the moon as your witness, you whisper words of devotion, sneak featherlight kisses wherever you can reach, and hope that they get to your love, wherever his mind is right now.

“I love you, I love you, I love you…”

—

You let him love you in the mornings.

Even unknowingly, it seems. On a normal day, your alarm would ring and you’d sleepily pat Luke (his face, chest, whatever part of him you could reach with your eyes closed) so he could shut it off. He’d let you sleep in a couple extra minutes (somewhere between 5-10) before pulling you from unconsciousness with a hug.

This morning, with no alarms ringing in his ears Luke finds that he wakes up a little before you anyway. Down to his circadian rhythm, you’ve affected him, and he takes it with an upwards quirk of his lip as he squints at the sunlight through the sheer curtains that brush against your arms. He watches you delicately, even with the sounds of a lively morning filling the cabin—everyone up and ready for the day while you two are wrapped in your little bubble. It’s a stupid thought that crosses his mind, but a coherent one nonetheless; jealousy fills his chest at the sight of sunlight kissing every inch of your skin that he can only try to reach. He runs his hands from where they’re tucked underneath your waistband to the expanse of your back, and over your shoulders until you’re humming under your breath, midway out of a dream.

Luke takes an extra moment to admire the way you latch onto him and he finds it almost frustrating how everyone from the gods above to the demigods at Camp Half-Blood down to the powers that damn him to Tartarus know you’re his biggest weakness. It’s almost unfair how you’re his strength too— the sheath that reminds him not to cut, the control behind his unbridled rage that heats up the back of his neck like a brand but instead of feeling fire, he feels sunlight.

You search for him in every sunrise, light refracting through your irises until a smile settles on your cheeks like you want to say, “Yes, I’m here with you. ”

“Good morning, pretty girl.”

The both of you shifted during the night, almost as if in a dance of limbs and dreams, and somehow you’re nestled against his side and using his bicep as a pillow. It flexes as Luke raises his arm to brush the hair away from your face, when you kiss his scar and mumble, “Did we miss breakfast?”

“Almost over, but we can just grab something from the kitchens. Surprised everyone left us alone, actually,” he says thoughtfully, “the kids might’ve already left for their quest.” He likes watching you reorient yourself into the land of the living, before you step into your boots of being head counselor, before you put on the facade of being the perfect demigod—the protector and glue of Camp Half-Blood.

“Mmhm… was gonna offer my lighter to Percy and them last night for protection, but he was wearing your shoes. You gave them to him?”

Luke wipes drool from the side of your lip, watching you kiss his thumb in thanks with no thought as it was as easy as breathing. A half smile splits through the scar on his face as he says, “He’s gonna need them. For luck.” You lift your upper body up and look at him, hair forming a halo around your face and you sniff, “But you loved those shoes. Gift from your dad aside, I know they’re one of your prized possessions.”

He coaxes you back into his arms as he shifts up and leans against the wall. Prying eyes would think you’re hugging, sitting heart to heart on the small mattress.

“Annie didn’t take your lighter?”

He knows you’re rolling your eyes against his shoulder, feeling your fingers clutch at his curls to pull him away to look at you. You look at him knowingly and say, “Stop trying to change the subject. Anyways, Annie said if we help them anymore she’ll think we don’t trust them enough to come back alive.”

“I mean it when I say you’re all I care about. Shoes…None of it matters.”

“What I care about is how you used to love flying around in those things. Even if you pissed me off a lot with them too,” you say, and the both of you laugh. They were a consolation from his dad after his quest, probably the closest thing to an apology (or even a “hello, glad you’re alive!”) he’d ever gotten from Hermes. Though the scar on his cheek was more than enough of a reminder of that—he didn’t touch the shoes until a few months after, when you taught him how to drive. Luke propositioned you promising to take you out on a spin once, and you thought he meant the car…

“You loved them more than I did,” he grins, and you recoil and slap his chest.

“You flung me onto the roof of the dining pavilion, Luke.”

“It was an accident! Plus it did make cabin checks go faster…Once I got the hang of them,” he snorts, deciding to pull you to stand. Batting away the curtain, he’s sliding into his slippers and Luke helps you step onto his feet and you groan into his chest, “What are you doing? M’gonna break your toes, Lu—”

“Shhh…I’m the strongest guy you know. Can handle anything for ya.”

He backs the both of you up to the center of the cabin, spinning you in slow circles to an imaginary beat. One hand around your waist and the other interlaced with yours as your smile feels like sun beaming through a window as you ask, “How did I ever get so lucky to fall in love with you, Luke Castellan?”

You’ll never tell him, but that’s the only thing you’ll be ever grateful to Hermes for.

He shakes his head in astonishment as he whispers, “I love you, you know that?” It hurts his head if he thinks too hard—how does a love so intoxicating manifest as something so gentle? How can he be powered by your love but still fueled by hate? How can he be both damned and saved by you? Luke wonders if his thoughts even break the surface of how busy the mind of a daughter of Dionysus is—to know insanity in love, and still be able to welcome it with open arms.

“Beats prom, huh? Am I a good dance partner?”

You tilt your head, tongue in cheek as you gaze at your boy like he’s said something stupid, and though it’s been a year and change, you hope the fluttery feeling Luke gives you will never go away. With him, you never have to pretend—never needing to mince your words or soften the blow. You’ve never felt more yourself than how you feel hand in hand with him.

“We’ve always been good partners, me and you.”

He sways you in the momentary quiet of cabin 11 as you step away and hold the bottom of your (his) shirt out like the frills of a skirt, and Luke raises your arm overhead and then you’re spinning, spinning, spinning…

The front door swivels open, and Chris peeks his head in.

“Hey lovebirds, sorry to interrupt but Sword and Shield is starting soon, and Clarisse still has your names on the roster…”

You both sigh.

“You signed up for offense?”

“And you signed up for defense, so don’t look at me like that, trouble…”

Instantly the two of you harden your stances, parrying at each other’s torsos with hands as your swords until you try to make a run for it and drag Chris behind you to use him as a human shield.

“Hey! Oof—”

Moving as quick as a bullet, Luke accidentally knocks the wind out of his brother who’s now hunched over as you laugh at him like a madwoman.

“You two are going to have weirdly violent children one day,” Chris huffs, before stepping back towards the door, “See ya in 30!”

Cheeks reddening at his brother’s comment, Luke crosses his arms and takes a good look at you, bathing in the light of the open doorway and looking like the rest of his life.

“Well, back to work. Bit too good to be true, huh babe?”

“For now,” he says thoughtfully, “Summer will be over soon though. Gonna get quieter around here for sure…”

You’re already stepping off the front porch walking backwards as you grin, throwing your arms up in the air as you make your way across the path to your cabin to get ready for the day. You’d hate to leave camp—it's as true as your love for performing, caring for others, and most especially, him. He knows it because he knows you, and unlike most things, that’s never going to change.

Not if he can help it.

“Summer doesn’t last forever. But we’ll still have the fall, the winter, and whatever’s next…me and you.”

You’re yelling to him over the railing of your porch and he nods his head at you, turning away before you speak again, “Maybe one day when we’re older!”

“What was that baby?”

Looking at Luke like you already have it all planned out in your head, you say softer, “Kids. If that’s what’s in the cards for us. Though I do like practicing…”

Instantly he cracks up but nods, because there’s no future he can conceive without you being in it. There’s a serious turn in his response and it makes your heart beat out of your chest.

“Anything you want. You know I don’t leave anything up to fate. Not glory, not you.”

Everything you touch turns into gold, and he hopes somehow he would too. Two sides of the same coin, striving for a good ending, one worth remembering—one to last forever.

You get to love each other in the in-between, when time can’t get in the way. The clock is always ticking though, rattling against his brain as a reminder.

Luke just wants to make sure there’ll come a day where there’ll be no more interruptions.

—

“When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it. Oh, when you used to sing it to sleep.” Caitlyn Siehl

½ luke taglist: @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01@poppysrin@ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r@visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri

#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #trouble!verse #made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan fluff

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lu-vin-it · 1 year

Text

Fate

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

Summary: Daryl and Y/N are split at the beginning of the apocalypse. When a new group comes to the farm, maybe fate will be on your side.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon X Reader

Pronouns Used: None mentioned

Word Count: 1,903

Warnings: Mention of weed/smoking, i think mention of alcohol too. also minors having sex, not explicit but it is hinted that Daryl hooked up w/ a girl when he was 15

A/N: Ty @stqrluvr for proofreading ily bf!!!

Edit: Hey! After reading the comics I realized that Daryl isn’t in his 30s when the apocalypse started so i changed the years up a bit! for context: Carol is 25 and he’s supposed to be younger than her according to some sources so I went with that.

Aprox. 1999- Daryl and Y/N are 13 and 14 respectively .

“Y/N, this is Daryl. Why don’t y’all two go play up in your room while the grown ups talk?” Your Dad said, a blonde boy who looked about your age stood behind him with his dad and older brother.

“I have homework, Dadd-“ You stopped when you saw the anger fester on your Dad’s face. “Uh.. we’ll go on a walk.”

“Alright.. why don’t you go to the gas station..” he reaches into his pocket and takes out his wallet, handing you a ten dollar bill. “get somethin’ for yourself and your new friend.” You took the money and nodded before closing your notebook and walking past the men. Daryl followed you.

“Son of bitch treats me like I’m six and not fourteen..” You turned to the boy. “Wanna get some candy?”

“You buyin’?” You laugh and nod.

“C’mon.” You nod at the direction of the highway. He smiled and followed you.

Aprox. 2001

“Daryl, wake the fuck up. I’m gonna leave in ten minutes with or without you, you fuckin’ ass.” You yell into your best friend’s room. Sighing, you put your hand against your forehead and walked to the living room.

“Y/N.. how old are you now?” You look up to see Merle Dixon creepily staring at you.

“Not old enough… I will never be old enough..” You gag.

“Well you’re the one who came into my house lookin like that.” He licks his lips.

“Yeah. I sure did. For Daryl. Go fuck yourself, Merle.” You flip him the bird.

“Shit, sorry Y/N. I overslept.” You turn around to see Daryl leaving his room shirtless, a girl, who you recognized from school, but not well enough to know the name of, walks out behind him. She stands awkwardly for a moment before waving at you and leaving.

“And who was that?” You asked, wiggling your eyebrows.

“Er.. Sandy. I think. I dunno.. I was drunk as shit yesterday.” You laugh to cover up the jealousness you felt.

“Please..” You say, still laughing. “Hurry up and get dressed before I leave you here to go to this lake by myself.” You shake your head and walk out of the house to your car.

Aprox. 2007

“I don’t get it dude.” You said, shaking your head. Daryl sighs.

“There ain’t nothin’ to get. He’s a cheatin’ asshole who would have done the same thing to anyone.” You glance up at him and wipe the tears off your cheek.

“Yea.. I guess. I just..” You sigh. “I thought he was the one.. you know?” You scoff at yourself. “Stupid.”

“It ain’t stupid. He’s stupid.” Daryl flicked the cigarette butt on the ground and smashed it with his heel. “Never liked his sorry ass.” He mumbled. While that was true, he mostly didn’t like him because he was with you.. and that was what Daryl wanted more than anything.

Aprox. 2009

“Ugh..” You groan. “I hate school, why did I become a teacher?” You hypothetically ask Daryl. He was laughing at you from across the living room. You were grading papers while Daryl was watching a wrestling match on TV.

“‘Cause you wanted to ‘Make an impact in kids' lives’.” You roll your eyes.

“Fuck the kids.” You mumble, glaring at the stack of essays in front of you. “Whose winnin’?”

“I reckon Randy Orton.. seems most likely.” You nod.

“Yeah..”

August 15th, 2010. 11 Days pre-apocalypse.

“Have fun on the campin’ trip.” You said, switching your phone to your other ear.

“Yeah.. Merle’s comin’ along so.. I probably won’t.” You frown at your pessimistic best friend.

“Why is that douche comin’? Thought you said he was out on another bender?” You ask, reminding him of the conversation you had the day before.

“He was. Came home last night full o’ beer. He was high as shit too. Guess he just wants to prove he’s more capable than me.” Daryl sighs. “How’s Atlanta? Fuck any politicians yet?” You loudly laugh.

“I hate you, no I have not. But if I do, I’ll call you right after.” You pulled your phone off your ear when you felt it buzz, your Dad was calling you. “My Dad’s callin’. I gotta go, bye Dar.”

“Stay safe.” With that you end the call and accept your Dad’s.

August 27th, day after the apocalypse began.

“C’mon, you can come to my house.. it’s safe there.” You look at your friend, Maggie, and nod. “We can make signs to leave on the road, that way if your Dad or someone comes looking for you, they can find you.” You smile at her.

“It’s okay. Let’s go.. I guess.” You say monotonous.

The day Carl gets shot. (Present day.)

“Shit! Whose that?” You exclaim, taking the dish gloves you had on to grab your gun and go to the door. “Someone’s here!” You look at the figure for a moment and realize he was carrying a child. You looked behind him and saw Otis along with another man running behind him. “They’re with Otis!” Hershel walks up to you and looks out the door over your shoulder. Maggie runs up behind y’all with her binoculars.

“Shit the boy is injured!” She yells

“Was he bit?” Hershel asks. The rest of the Greene family poured out the front door.

“Shot. By your man.” The man, who was wearing a sheriff’s uniform, said.

“Otis?” Patricia wondered aloud.

“He said to find Hershel, is that you?” He sobbed. “Help me, help my boy.”

“Get him inside!” Hershel hurries into the house, the entire household is on high alert. “Patricia get my whole kit.” He folds his sleeves up. “Maggie, painkillers— Coagulates— grab everything!”

“Okay!”

“Y/N, clean towels, sheets, alcohol!” You run off to get everything Hershel asked. You grabbed everything faster than you knew you could run.

“Here!”

“Pillowcase!”

“I-Is he alive?”

“Pillowcase quick!” You take one off of one of the many pillows and hand it to him.

“Fold it! Quickly! Make it into a pad!” He grabs Rick’s hands and places them onto the makeshift pad. “Put pressure on it.” He puts his stethoscope on and listens around the boy’s chest. “I've got a heartbeat… it’s faint.” The man shakes.

“I’ve got it— step back!” Patricia says, pushing back the stranger.

“Maggie, IV.”

“We need some space.” Maggie yells, pushing him back more.

“Y/N, take him outside.” You nod and grab his hand, dragging him back out to the porch.

“W-Wait no— My boy h-he.. I can’t leave Carl, what're you doing?”

“What’s your name?”

“R-Rick.” You nod.

“I’m Y/N. They need their space in the room right now. Let’s stay out here and talk.” Rick looked at you like you were crazy but nodded. “Okay. Good. Uhh.. where were you before what happened?”

“Um. Uh. T-The highway. With my group.”

“Oh you’ve got a group! That’s awesome. How many people are in your group?”

“T-Ten. M-My best friend Shane he’ll be here with uh… with Otis any second now.” You nodded.

“That’s nice that you have a best friend in your group. Who else are you close to in the group?”

“M-My wife.. Lori.. s-she oughta be here..” He sobs, putting his face in his hands.

“Run!” Your neck snaps to the field. Otis and another man were running.

“Stay here, what’s your friend’s name?”

“Shane.” You nod and run to the men.

“Shane, you go to Rick. I’ll stay with Otis and help him get to the house.” You say to the black haired man. He nodded and ran quicker. You jogged past him to Otis. You wrapped your arm around him and hauled him back to the house.

Later that day, Otis and Shane left to get medical supplies for Carl while Maggie took the horse and went after Rick’s wife, Lori. A man called Glenn followed shortly after Lori’s arrival, he had T-Dog with him who was injured. Maggie seemed smitten with Glenn. He told you all that the rest of the group would be there the next day.

Shane came back that night with a heavy heart. Otis sacrificed himself for him. The night was full of grief.

The next morning, you woke up late. Everyone was outside helping the rest of the group settle in. You met Carol first, you told her you were sorry about her daughter and that you would help however you could. She thanked you and you helped her set up her things. You met Andrea next, she was a little more standoffish but you didn’t mind.

After meeting Andrea, you retreated into the house, deciding to start on lunch. It wasn’t much, but you were able to make salads with the crops on the farm. Carol came to help you after a while.

“So.. how are you related to the Greenes?”

“Oh I’m not. Maggie and I knew each other before the spread. We were hangin’ out when everythin’ went to shit and I couldn’t get back to my Dad.”

“I’m sorry about your Dad.” You shook your head.

“S’fine, didn’t like him that much. Mostly my best friend that I miss. I don’t know if he made it out.” You snort. “Probably did though.. he and his brother were out hunting when everythin’ happened.” She nods.

“Maybe you’ll find him soon.” You smile.

“I hope so. I hope he’s alive when I do.”

Carol went out to get everyone after you guys were done. It took about ten minutes before everyone

came into the dining room. There wasn’t enough room for everyone at the table, so some stayed standing.

“Where’s Daryl?” Andrea asked before shoving a forkful of lettuce in her mouth. Your mouth went dry.

“He’s comin’, he was getting stuff ready to go after Sofia.” Rick replied. Your heart was beating out of your chest.

“N/N? You okay?” Beth pondered when she saw the look on your face. You nodded and walked out of the dining room and then out of the house. You looked around before you saw him. It was Daryl fucking Dixon.

“Dixon!” You yelled, running down the steps and to him.

“Y/N?” He stopped in shock.

“Holy shit!” You jumped on him, wrapping your arms around him.

“W-What’re you doin’ here?” He pulled you off of him and held your face in his hands. You were crying at this point.

“Maggie, she was my teacher’s assistant and when the infection started she took me here.” You stared at him. “I’m so happy you’re here Daryl.. I was so worried that you did—“ You were cut off when Daryl leaned forward and kissed you. Of course, you kissed him back, you had been wanting this since you were 18. When you broke apart you smiled. “I love you.” You admitted. He grins and kisses you again, you knew that that meant he loved you back.

“I’m so glad I found you.” He leaned his forehead against yours and smiled.

“What just happened..” You turn around to see everyone on the porch, Glenn’s head was tilted and he stared in confusion.

── ⋅⋅⋅ ────꒰ ୨ ♡ ୧ ꒱───────

𝗜𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗶𝗳𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗜 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗶𝗰 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀, 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗯𝗲 𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗺𝘆 𝘁𝗮𝗴 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ☻︎ꨄ

#the walking dead x reader #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixon x you #rick grimes x reader #maggie greene x reader #maggie rhee x reader

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rivetingrosie4 · 23 days

Text

What a Life (Morgan & Family: A Fluff Dump, Pt. 2)

credit to @foundynnel i believe for 2 of the edits above

𑁦𐂂𑁦

Summary: Part of a modern au (and post gang) fluff dump work. Just a scene in which Arthur and reader enjoy secluded family life with their very young son. Arthur is a cute and loving dad and is adored by reader.

Tags: fluff without plot, family fluff, romantic fluff, domestic setting, parenthood

Word count: 2,660

In the cool shadow of the cabin, thrown long by the late morning sun, you sit with your little son, watching him play in the sandbox. The mourning dove’s rounded, plaintive hoots are parried by the sharp, tinkling warbles of goldfinches in the nearby pine branches, and the fragrances of crisp mist and thick sod linger in the mountain air.

You watch the faint glimmer of day paint the crests of Gabriel’s cupid’s bow with light, his plump lips resting between his two rotund cheeks as he concentrates on the toys before him. The wispy feathers of his splayed lashes bow and rise with each blink. His beautiful, shimmering eyes inspect each toy, each color, each shape. Out of all the blocks, large puzzle pieces, rings, balls, and animal toys half-buried in the sand, he has landed on one. You watch the bulbous pads and segments of each tiny, clumsy finger curl to a strong, stable grasp around the edge of the object of his aim—a large block with an Appaloosa sketched and painted lovingly on the side.

“Just like your daddy,” you whisper to yourself.

Dipping your fingers into the sand and feeling its chill envelop your skin, you look up with a smile to gaze in the direction of the stables. In the distance, you catch sight of Arthur hauling a huge saddle and its accompanying tack, a moment before he disappears through the door and into the shaded interior.

You recall the quiet rustling of his rising this morning when he’d been up before the sun, as he often is. And the way he’d kept from waking the baby in his room, intentionally leaving you to reap the reward of your son’s customary gleeful smile, his bounce in his crib, and his lifting of his arms for you.

You turn back to your eleven-month-old with a burgeoning smirk. “Wanna come help Mama make some sourdough?”

“Yeah,” he immediately chirps, recognizing nothing but the lilt of a question in your voice. But he doesn’t look up at you, still captured by the blocks and puzzle pieces.

You stand and take a few steps away to prompt him. “Well let’s go!” you call.

He braces himself on the sand with his palms, a moment later lifting his tush into the air. When he straightens, his brows knot, and his lips dangle from between his cheeks as he gazes down confoundedly at the discomfort of sand stuck to his flesh.

You snort a laugh as you cover the sandbox behind him. “Just go like this, Gabe Baby.”

You show him your flattened hands and slowly brush them together.

His brows don’t budge as he looks back and forth from your hands to his own, unable to fully brush them.

“Like this,” you whisper, gently taking his wrists and swiftly brushing his palms back and forth over each other.

When the sand is removed, he toddles to follow you up towards the cabin, and you carry him when you reach the oak staircase to the back door.

As you turn onto the wraparound porch, you notice Arthur now hefting a huge bale of hay by its cords into the stable, his black leather hat shading most of his face in the distance. But you like to imagine he wears a subconscious smile, now enjoying a life of simplicity, filled with nature and horses and art and family and love, tucked away from the gnarled heartache that gang life had left in its wake.

“Sandy baby,” you mumble when you arrive inside and close the back door behind you.

You promptly remove both your shoes and strip Gabriel to his diaper, tossing his sandy clothes into the hamper.

“Are you dry?” you ask vainly as he starts to toddle away. “Wait, are you dry?” You deftly hook a finger down his back and into his diaper before he can fully get away.

Peering into his diaper, you find no present. You carefully squeeze his bottom to discover no liquid deposit.

When you release him, he immediately darts down the hall. You follow and walk into the kitchen, beckoning him to join you. When he does and you bend to pick him up, he whines to be allowed to remain standing on his own.

“Well how’re you gonna see from down there?” you lightly ask.

When he shakes his head, you half-frown. It was just a couple weeks ago that eleven-month-old Gabriel began walking. Since then, he’s always wriggling out of your arms and dashing across rooms, seemingly already excited to be as independent as he can be.

At first, it stung. With the love and special intimacy of mother and son—and with even the chemistry and well-being of your bodies both dependent on the other—the two of you had been closer than peas in a pod, glued at the hip for so long. It’s always been and still is a precious bond to you, though its daily aspects continue to gradually change. And it was hard to so suddenly feel a little unneeded. But Arthur has helped you find a comfort in the balance of realizing that your feelings are only natural, and that you’ve been raising a wonderful and healthy little boy, with this change as just another bit of proof.

As well as the fact that Gabriel still likes to cherry-pick when he’s carried and when he walks on his own. You suspect that like any human, his adamant desire for independence doesn’t do one thing to hinder his deep enjoyment and fierce need of being held.

So you turn and begin pulling ingredients and dishes from the cupboard, at last going to the fridge to retrieve your sourdough starter. You begin mixing ingredients in your big bowl atop the counter, when you hear a whimper and feel a few hard tugs at your palazzos. And you smirk.

You glance down to find him with arms outstretched and upheld for you, bouncing on his tiptoes with longing. You stoop and lift him to you, hugging him to your hip and pressing a few kisses soundly to his smooth cheek.

Describing each action aloud to him, you finish mixing, dust the countertop with copious amounts of flour, and turn the bowl with your free hand to dump the dough.

“Now we knead,” you almost sing, in hushed tones.

Perched on your hip, his plump little arm drapes with familiarity and utmost contentedness over the back of your shoulder. He watches your every gesture with a mixture of restful curiosity and heightened interest.

You push the dough away and pull it towards you again and again, tucking the edges underneath as you do, to form a smooth, rounded surface on top.

“You wanna feel it? You wanna knead?” you ask.

Leaning forward, you let him reach and press his tiny hand into the supple surface of the cool dough.

“Gentle,” you say, showing him the way you keep your fingers outstretched and softly brush and pat the surface of the dough with the pads of your fingertips. “No squeezing.”

The two of you watch his little fingers delve into the pliant mass of dough, leaving a mark of small craters. When they begin to slowly bounce back, you watch his face instead of the dough.

He releases a single cooed sigh of delight as he looks at you with a bright smile, which you heartily return.

How you love, you love, you love him.

You sprinkle the dough with flour and rest it in a basket for its turn to prove. After fetching a dough you’d left proving hours before, you carefully score it with one long slice for expansion, and several small strokes for a quaint wheat kernel design on the other side.

“Mama.” Gabriel pats your sternum and rests a couple fingers past his lips.

“You hungry?” you ask.

When he nods, you brush a hand down the slope of the back of his head and kiss his temple. You add as you set him to his feet, “Let me get this in the oven, then I’ll feed you.”

After setting the parchment-papered sourdough in its cast iron dutch oven and pouring a bain marie past the paper, you place the whole thing in the oven and set a timer. You glance at the oven window with a small smile, eager to see the crispy crust on your extra-sour boule. Since you first noticed its resemblance to Gabriel’s tummy, you’ve made a tradition of kissing the top of the boule, then indelicately turning Gabriel sideways in your arms and blowing a raspberry on his bare belly, making him cackle hysterically. These days, he’s even begun giggling when you turn him in your arms and before you ever kiss his belly, already tickled by the anticipation alone.

With Gabriel in tow, you walk to the couch in the living room. Gabriel rests both arms over the seat cushion and tries to lift one leg up over the edge, but you reach your hands under his arms and pull him into your lap.

Just before you unhook your bra from its strap to nurse, the two of you hear the back door open.

Gabriel’s eyes widen, and a grin begins to pull on the corners of his mouth. “Da,” he says.

He wiggles down off the couch, and as he toddles down the hall, you listen to his bare little feet patting quietly along the hardwood floor. You smile to yourself at the precious sound, so deeply dear to you.

As you hear Arthur’s rustling, jingling presence in the doorway and the naturally firm, heavy footfalls of his work boots, you imagine him resting his black hat on the wall as his small son comes around the corner in only his diaper, bared rounded belly and all.

When you hear the playful growl and the resultant squeal and cackle, your grin splits wider.

“You’re in your nethers, baby boah!”

You can detect the pinch of a smile in Arthur’s voice and the breath of laughter with the last couple words.

More little pads of bare feet as Gabriel comes running back around the corner and down the hall. He hesitates as he toddles, turning back to ensure Arthur’s tailing, eager to play this game with his father.

Still, when Arthur leans around the corner and pulls an exaggeratedly silly face with an outright grunt, Gabriel’s little body gives a tiny jump. His squeal and adorable laughter ring out into the air. He clumsily darts into the kitchen.

When his father follows with a few long strides and the sturdy clops of his boots, he brings with him the musty scents of alfalfa hay and tanned rawhide, of trail dust and undiluted sunshine. And the two subsequently begin an elaborate game of peek-a-boo, back and forth around the island. You can’t help but laugh along at the purest sound of undiluted joy—the beauty and innocence of your own child so easily tickled and contented by life and love—as you turn on the couch and watch the pair. No matter how many times Arthur jumps out to stop him with a silly face and a low hoot or growl, Gabriel instantly screams and squeals, his body utterly racked with tightly coiled cackles.

Arthur wheezes and snickers every time.

“Oh my God, listen to him!” you laugh.

It’s always another several seconds before Gabriel totally recovers and manages to catch his breath, his laughter smoothing with each heave of air.

With the next turn of their game, Arthur lingers behind the island when Gabriel rounds it, not jumping out even when his son takes reticent steps forward, looking for him. Arthur continues to linger, even quietly backing up to hide himself, watching his son for the right moment to strike.

Finally Arthur leaps out, and Gabriel jumps with the highest squeal and loudest cackles you’ve heard yet.

You and Arthur both burst with your own laughter at his reaction.

When your son’s breathing finally evens, you call, “Gabriel, I thought you were hungry?”

“Oh, were you about to eat, son?” Arthur asks in his deep timbre. “You hungry?”

Gabriel nods and pats a hand to his belly above the rim of his diaper.

“Well, better go see Mama,” Arthur quietly grunts as he picks his son up by the underarms and sets him on his hip out of habit. Arthur lifts him over the couch back and sets him down into your lap, then remains behind the couch himself, watching over your shoulder.

After cushioning your back and adjusting him in your arms, you reach beneath your tee, unhook the front of your bra, and gently bring Gabriel to your breast to nurse. He latches on immediately, very well accustomed to your routine. A certain profound peace washes over you as you watch him. His lips flange around you as he suckles; his quiet breaths through his nose briefly pause each time he swallows; and his plump little arm rests wistfully over your chest.

Many people may look away, abashed and discomfited, unable to fit something at once both so innocent and intimate into their world. But it’s always made perfect sense to you. And maybe motherhood was a dream too quaint, one not rebellious or modern enough, seemingly not daring or adventurous enough. But it was your dream.

When Gabriel spots Arthur’s face over your shoulder, he pulls away from your breast with a growingly wry grin, clearly expecting to continue the game from moments ago. Droplets of your milk spill between you and his mouth as he voices a syllable and lifts his arm, attempting to goad Arthur into another silly face.

Arthur silently complies with cross-eyes and a sideways tongue.

Gabriel promptly giggles, and the two of you smile and chuckle at the sound.

“Don’t while he’s nursing, he’ll choke,” you lightly say.

After softly cooing and corralling Gabriel back to his feeding, you continue watching him with a contented smile. You brush your hand down over the back of his head, into the growing downy hair that curls funnily at the base of his neck. As he closes his eyes, you brush the backs of your curled fingers down over his temple, and gently trail your fingertips across the velvet flower-petal skin of his plump baby cheek.

You hear the long, relaxed sound of Arthur’s husky breath over your shoulder, a sound you know very well, especially these days.

“What a life, huh?” he quietly says.

He means to facetiously point out Gabriel’s current lot—nursing at his mother’s breast with his father at the ready to make him smile and laugh. That is, a life full of love and joy, well taken care of, and absent of a care in the world. Just as he should be for now.

It doesn’t take you a few moments, and you’re turning to look into Arthur’s cerulean-sage eyes. A knowingness resides in your gaze. Because you yourself, as well as your husband, have been given all you’d so deeply and totally longed for—and longed, a word too weak—more than you could’ve ever imagined you’d actually live to get.

“Yeah,” you quietly, pensively respond. “What a life.”

The love of your life holds your gaze, and understands.

Your love and gratefulness are immeasurable and uncontainable, filling you and stretching past the bounds of your body and being, like fragmented granules of glittering dust floating from a burst star.

Strangely enough, even with all the joy and contentment and peace, the words and the shared gaze are not without a mingling of loss and ache.

They are not gone entirely. But you both have someone now, to join you in weathering them.

You are not alone.

Arthur leans to you, and you share a few kisses, soft as breath. You turn and close your eyes a moment as he rests his forehead to your temple. And you both gaze down at your son with contented smiles.

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astralnino · 9 months

Text

Rivals to Lovers - Ken X Reader [PT 1]

it takes place in Barbieland, has some overlapping events but doesn't exactly sync w/ the movie. In this AU, Kens have houses too (I won't do them dirty 😤)

Also for your reading convenience, I'll be calling Ken#2 (Simu Liu's Ken) Kenneth, and Ryan's Ken#1 will stay Ken. enjoy, loves! 💗

feisty ken x sensitive reader / tw: kissing also PART 2 IS OUT!

1.13k Words <3

It's another beautiful, perfect day in Barbieland. You wake up early in the morning, feeling rejuvenated and excited, for you were finally making the big move to your bestie Kenneth's neighborhood! You're basically trembling with excitement as they load the last of your pink boxes into the pink truck which is ready to leave the pink gates of Rosedale, your previous neighborhood. You get in the front seat of your pink Jeep Gladiator and wave to your friends as you drive off into the sunset, into Barbieville!

You look in awe at the promenade, bustling with so many Barbies, and they all look at you with wide eyes. It was the first time many of them were setting their eyes on a Limited Edition Barbie. The 'Y/n L/n Limited Edition Classy Barbie', was released based on a design made by the daughter of the CEO of Mattel.

You were basically a celebrity in Barbieland, and you were pretty good at handling all the attention, good and bad, which came along with it. You park your truck behind the pink truck, out of which a few Helper Barbies are taking your furniture and items and moving them into your new dreamhouse. You walk out of your Jeep to be swarmed by a whole lot of Barbies, all of them saying Hi and asking for autographs. You couldn't help but feel a little overwhelmed, but you take a few deep breaths and wave to all of them, and start signing a few arms, Jerseys and a couple of Beach Shorts. Nothing out of the ordinary.

As you're signing the various articles, out of the corner of your eye, you notice a small commotion, two Kens and a few Barbies. You roll your eyes, brushing it off, until you realize that one of those Kens was - your bestfriend and crush Kenneth. As soon as it hits you, you apologetically hand over a half signed cap to the Ken it belonged to and promised everyone autographs at the 'Welcome to the New Neighbourhood Party' Kenneth was hosting for you, before sprinting towards the sandy beach.

Infront of you, you see Kenneth and another Ken squaring up. Your gaze lingers upon the other Ken, who looks pretty... agitated. Pretty agitated. He had the average blonde hair, a perfect jawline and brown, kind of dreamy eyes which currently looked dark and stormy- Your train of thought was interrupted by Kenneth who was getting a bit too aggressive. He looked cute, as always, but you quickly step in along with a blonde Barbie wearing a Pink checked dress, acting as a barricade between the two disconcerted dolls. The Stereotypical Barbie appears to brush her hand against Kenneth's thigh, but you're sure it was an accident so you let it be.

As soon as he recognizes you, he looks startled. "Y/n- You're here- it's been so long since I've seen you..". You run forward and hug him, and he awkwardly pats your back. Again, you notice the blonde Barbie stare at you two, with a glint of jealousy in her eyes.. but it was cleverly masked with a forced but pretty smile.

"Hey Kennethh, how've you been?" You exclaim although you two spoke over call just last night, a little blush creeping up your cheeks. Just as he's about to answer, Ken rolls his eyes and clears his throat, a mellow but burning rage still in his eyes, effectively ruining your moment.

"What's your problem man.." you mutter under your breath, but the Blondie hears you. "What's my problem you ask? Your tall and han- Your boyfriend is annoying me for no good reason, ask him to back off now." he replies, looking somewhat flustered. Taking a few steps forward, you stand close to him.. very close. You look up at him, and he looks down back at you, his face turning a light shade of pink.

You look straight into his eyes and asks him "What if I don't?" You feel his quick, warm breaths on your supple skin.

He eyes you up and down, thinking for a moment, then he pushes you to the floor, effectively creating a situation where you're under him. You feel your cheeks warming up, and you see him smirk. "Try standing up for your boyfriend now, why don't you?"

Your eyes lock for a second, and you feel something... something new, something intense, but you realise that you're out in the open- OH GOD, what will people think!? You quickly avert your eyes, and again, you notice Kenneth with Barbie.. only this time they appear to be bickering, but slowly move closer.. and closer. You don't get enough time to process this, because Ken is getting off of you and storming towards them both, fists clenched tightly and feet stomping, spewing sand all over you and a few picnic blankets on the sandy floor.

Just as he's about to do something, you see Kenneth push him over to the side, tugging on your hand, and the other Barbie quietly apologises, looking deeply into Kenneth's eyes with an almost lovestruck look and drags the other Ken away. What the hell was going on?

"Who does that asshole think he is?!" You shake your head and start complaining, walking off in the other direction with Kenneth, who starts giving you a tour of his neighbourhood. Even though you know most of the places here, you smile, masking your sadness and longing, and walk with him, feeling happy to be bantering with your favourite person.

After he gave you a detailed tour of Barbieville, he left to "prepare for the party" and "attend to urgent matters". You decide to explore on your own and start walking home to get ready for the party, which had already started. You knew this by seeing the heavily lit up, awfully loud house at the end of the street. To make up for lost time, you speed up, accidentally stumblling into a dark figure, who was.. sniffling?

"I'm so sorry, let me help you up-" you reach out for the Ken who was now on the floor, and instead of stretching his arm out, he looks up at you, and you see Aggressive-Beach-Ken with red and puffy eyes. He looked so vulnerable, so upset, so angry- he looked broken.. An emotion you were unfamiliar with, but his eyes spoke a thousand words.

He slowly got up, and looked dead into your eyes. "W-why couldn't you keep a hold on your boyfriend..?" He says the word 'boyfriend' with so much contempt, it sounds like an insult more than a label. "What do you mean? And he isn't my boyfriend... well not yet. I was hoping to confess to him toda-" Ken bursts out laughing, you could almost hear a hint of insanity in his chortle.

All of a sudden, his face goes blank, expressionless. This scares you. He grabs you by the arm and drags you along quickly. You protest and ask him to leave your hand, but he just kept speeding up, and you had to run to keep up. You were nearing the party, and you were pissed of at Ken because your outfit wasn't pretty enough for the party, and well, you didn't have any makeup on. He dragged you through the gates and when you finally stop bickering with him, you look straight at the spotlight. You let out a small gasp.

Kenneth was kissing the Stereotypical Barbie from earlier.

You make eye contact with your crush, and he chuckles and waves. You suddenly feel your eyes getting moist, and then wet. Water pours down from your small, glassy eyes. Kenneth was confused and started walking in your direction, until Stereotypical Barbie pulled him back in, making out again.

"Guess you lost your chance, Barbie."

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A/N: OKAY OKAY, I'M SRY THAT THERE WAS NO MAJOR KENxREADER MOMENTS HERE, BUT HEAR ME OUT- This post would be wayyy too long, and I'd rather not bore y'all with too many petty details.. I'll make it more fast paced and steamy next chapter. THAT'S RIGHT! EDIT: PART 2 IS HERE! AHHH YAY: PART 2 Thanks for reading guys! Leave a comment, follow or reblog, anything motivates me to keep trying ;o; STAY PINK!

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onmyyan · 1 year

Note

Okay, Hia! I’m hate to ask y/n’s friends trying to seduce Caspian! Idk if you had done this already but I was Caspian meet our friends and it’s obvious that they wanna fuck him

A/N: apologies for the wait! Loved this request bec Cas gets feral when you're relationship is tested, let me know if y'all want a smut to this!!NOT EDITED

TW'S: Yandere, cursing, horny Cas, shitty people/ friends, suggestive towards the end, Cas gets mean but don't worry never to you

You nearly buzzed in place from your ever growing excitement, not only were you about to go out looking as fine as you were, but you were going with Caspian!

A few friends of yours texted you last minute asking if you wanted to join them at the club, they asked if you could be the designated driver as they all wanted to drink and despite the small voice in your head telling you not to, that they'd only asked you to join so you could drive, the people pleaser in you won out and just like that you were scrambling to pick an outfit.

This particular group of women were more work friends than real ones, and the urge to belong was stronger than the odd vibes they gave off, this is the main reason you tiptoed into the kitchen that afternoon.

"Hi honey- what's wrong?" His tone went from joyous to concerned in a matter of seconds, he all but abandoned the pot he'd been diligently stirring for the last hour in favor for cupping your cheeks. "I'm fine my love, just- you free tonight?" His shoulders relaxed at the question, his large frame tilting down so he could steal a kiss. "For you? Always."

"Welllllll I know you didn't have the greatest time with my friends the last time we hung out with people I know but they invited me to the club- they need a designated driver see, and I was wondering if maybe you might wanna go with me?" Your nerves were apparent from the way you played with your shirt sleeve and it almost made him chuckle, as if you ever had to worry about him saying no to you.

"I'd love to go, and if you want to drink I can drive, you shouldn't have to limit yourself so others can party." He may have been smiling in the moment but his temper began to flare at the idea of you being so clearly used by people who cared little if at all for your wellbeing.

He knew how much you loved to dance and he could tell how happy you were to be apart of something so he bit his tongue and prayed to the universe he didn't loose his shit in front of you.

The two of you got ready together, the process being halted many times so he could kiss your neck or lips, whichever he had better access to at the moment the urge struck him. He made sure his outfit complimented your own, before you left he attached the prettiest necklace to your neck, making sure to leave a trail of kisses as he pulled away. The pendant was an adorable set of intertwined rose gold hearts, your initials carved in the shining metal, he giddily pulled a matching dainty chain from beneath his shirt, showing off his own.

"So we match." It was a subtle way to keep his possessive urges in check. Plus the way you lit up when he put it on was reason enough on it's own.

Caspian made a habit of racing to get out before you so he could hold the door open as you exited his sleek black car. He gave his keys to the valet with a finesse that seemed practiced and immediately slipped a large hand around your waist, his grip tightened subconsciously searched for the harpy's. The group appeared in no time squealing in what he deemed was a fake display of excitement.

"You came!! You're such a lifesaver (y/n)! What would we do without you huh?" He didn't bother listening to her name so he didn't exactly who had their disgusting arms around you despite your obvious discomfort. You giggled gently taking them off your shoulders and started to respond before another cut you off, "You didn't tell us you were bringing such a fine plus one- hi I'm Sandy." She held a hand out for him to take which he simply waved at.

"Caspian, and I'm her boyfriend actually." He didn't even try to hide his displeasure at her choice of words. "My mistake." She said in a sultry manner, her hands placed on her chest in mock sympathy.

His fist tightened before he made a move to hold your hand. "Ready honey?" He kissed the back of your hand as the group went for the door, not even bothering to wait for the two of you. "As I'll ever be." You responded, trying to breathe through the sudden onslaught of anxiety. He made sure to press kiss the side of you head as you two entered the dark club.

He fell for your kindness but damn did you give it to the wrong people.

At first things were as good as could be, you and Caspian wrapped up with each other in a darkened booth, him whispering sweet nothings against your skin, he was having a perfectly wonderful time until about an hour in, two of the women he didn't bother introducing himself to had randomly appeared out of nowhere and pulled you from his arms out on the dance floor. He pouted to himself before he caught the genuine smile on your face, he'd endure anything to keep it there. After a while the three of you trotted off to where he assumed the bathroom was, much to his displeasure. Just as he was about to whip out his phone to see exactly where you were, he caught sight of someone coming towards him.

His irritation only grew as Sandy sauntered her way up to Caspian with confidence, two drinks in hand. "You look like a whiskey guy." She slid the cup over with skill and sat on the table before him. Her finger danced around the rim of her glass and he couldn't help but gape, was this bitch foreal right now? He could laugh at the audacity but instead he pushed the drink back towards her.

"I'm not." She huffed playfully at him, as if he'd told a joke and knocked back the glass with an exaggerated moan of appreciation, knowing damn well the cheap shot tasted like gasoline. His heart began to pound in anger as he searched the crowd for you.

"Okayy well do you dance big guy?" She leaned across the table to give him a full view of her chest, the delicate bat of her lashes always got her what she wanted, so you could imagine her surprise when he stood up to his full height, nearly knocking her over with the speed. "I sure do, with my girl." He didn't try to mask his distain for the woman who claimed to be your friend.

Her embarrassment wasn't enough to stop her in her quest though, "What she don't know won't hurt her- c'mon my girls have her attention for as long as we need." She wrapped her arms around his midsection from behind with surprising speed, it felt like broken glass and salt everywhere she touched. His face twisted into a snarl as he ripped her hands from his body, all but throwing himself away from her shocked form.

"You're disgusting- what kind of woman throws herself at a taken man? Her so called friend at that?" Sandy's face fell with every venomous word he spat, not at all prepared for the man before her.

"I'll tell you what kind of person does that. A miserable one. One that could disa-fuckin-ppear and the world would be better." With every word her body seemed to shrink in on itself. "You're lucky she didn't see that shit you just pulled- if she so much as thinks I'm skeevin' cuz a cheap thing like you I swear on everything I love it'll be the last mistake you make. Are we clear? " His tone left no room for arguing, that paired with the mean ass sneer had the teary eyed nuisance nodding her head wordlessly and before she could speed walk away he grabbed her forearm in a vice, "Matter of fact this is gonna be the last time you or any one of those wastes of spaces you call friends bothers my baby again- lose her number. Fast." He made a point to wipe his hand on his pants after he released her. Cas felt somewhat better at the sight of the woman's misery but his blood was still boiling.

His eyes searched for you desperately, his pulse only calming once he spotted your happy form bouncing over to him from the crowd. "This place is amazing Cas! The bathroom was so boujie I had to take like a million pictures- I didn't make you wait too long right?" He smiled down at you, leaning against the back of the booth, he pulled you into his chest with a content hum. "You're worth any wait honey, also I want those pics, I need a new wallpaper."

The sweet moment would be ruined when he caught sight of the hag you called friend glaring at your back. His gaze would sharpen before he returned his attention to who mattered most.

He'd burn you in place with his stare, the sudden intense look had your knees shaking, you knew that look, it was almost always followed by a few rounds on whatever available surface was closest. His adrenaline still pumping, he gently grabbed the nape of your neck and pulled you into a searing kiss, the kinda kiss that was always followed by trouble.

After a few seconds you pulled back just a bit, intending to question the sudden PDA but he didn't give you a chance, after fighting his way in, he sucked long and hard on your tongue, moaning into the kiss like a pornstar, the fingers not playing with your hair snaked their way down to grab a handful of ass, grinding his growing bulge into your core had the both of you letting out the softest moans. "Fuck- what's gotten into you Cas?" You giggled against his panting mouth, visibly flustered, he licked a stripe across your bottom lip causing your exposed skin to flare with goosebumps.

"Just showing everyone here they can look-" A hand gently lifted your chin, his stare holding you in place, "but only I get to touch." He leaned down to trail searing kisses into your neck, glaring at the still embarrassed woman watching the two of you.

Like a dog marking his territory he began to nip and suck at the spot just below your neck. Your giggles and little whines being the only thing holding him back from tearing into that woman who after all she'd done had the nerve to still be in the same room as you two, you suddenly pulled away to look him in the eye.

"C'mon you horndog, let's get outta here before you try to fuck me on the dance floor." You joked tugging him towards the door.

"Hear me out-"

"Absolutely not."

#yananswers #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x y/n #anon submission #caspian delmont #yandere oc caspian #yandere oc x reader #my oc #caspian delmomt x reader #caspian x reader #caspian demonte

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hydrangeyes · 6 months

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love language

So if you don't know, Yes this already existed, my old account was deleted (accident but I can tell I won't be getting it back), and am reposting my old x male reader works!

I don't know if I saved all of them but here is one that was saved to my AO3 account.

Edit: So shuffling through my docs It's been brought to my attention that wattpad (who I use as backup) Cut a lot of my fics in half??? anyway I'll be trying to fix that also

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lego monkey king character love languages

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wukong:

- It's physical touch

- like come on it's so obvious frfr this man is emotionally constipated

- that and gifts of any kind

- one day you get a shiny rock the next he's giving you an ancient and precious golden pendant or something

- more times than not you can find each other cuddling and sun bathing on his island or temple

- if he's feeling particularly soft or something that is when he speaks up, pulling you aside to play with your fingers as he nervously asks if you know just how much he loves you. (This def feels more constant after the lbd deal)

- at first it was sweet but towards the 3rd hour of him describing everything you basically kiss him silent

- work out around him and all that goes through his head is "buddah I'm so very gay, gay gay gay, my mate is so fucking hot."

- I whole heartily believe he would recite that audio of spike saying "I love a person who can beat him up, I want it to get embarrassing." Just towards you and it's so fucking funny.

Macaque:

- He's vocal and physical.

- vocal in a round about way but def the type to fuss when you have to get up from the cuddle pile for even a sec

- feel like Mac would recite poetry or lines from a play

- will beat someone up for you, a single frown and he's already plotting murder

- in turn melts when you give him a kiss anywhere

- his favorites are on the cheek

- anyway, he wouldn't give you gifts unless its during festivals and such, very much a practical use gift giver

- he doesn't want there to be any doubt that he loves you and knows you love him, and if there's a smidgen of doubt he's blunt in asking

- Besides sandy idk why but probably the most to be very hands down "communication is key" in the relationship

- idk why but he likes hanging or being on your shoulders, whether your short or talk my dude, he's on your shoulders in some way

Tang:

- I head canon he's demi on all accounts cause I want too, so everything starts as friendship

- as time goes he starts dragging you about to his fav places to eat or snack

- seems like the type to bring you back really good food

- he can't cook for shit but he just found this new food place and thinks you might like it

- in a non yandere way keeps tabs on everything you enjoy

- so I guess also a gift giver

- the gifts are food (I would say folklore books but I feel like that's more something you give him and you both read it together)

- hard to say what else as I've convinced my mind that tang is happily married (platonic or not) to pigsy and then both dating sandy, speaking of which-

Sandy:

- everything, he's a giver

- cuddles, gifts, kisses, cooking you meals, talking

- sandy I feel is very loving, just a big old cheese ball

- Just imagining him waking you up with a kiss on the forhead and the smell of your favorite tea and breakfast, mo purr on the bed as you guys talk about what to do today

- I def wanna say he's definitely a "look at my awesome handsome boyfriend/fiancee/husband/partner!" Will Smith pose style

- leaves stick notes of love letters and I love yous everywhere when he is in a rush for work or helping the gang somewhere

Pigsy:

- Easy

- he cooks you meals, he's great at it and it's something he's most confident in

- not just any but handmade and usually family recipes he doesn't make for the shop

- Spending time to show you how to make his family recipes

- a "Why would I buy you chocolates when I can make you chocolate from scratch for sweethearts day?"

- the calmest around you, not that you mind when he's being passionate (about hobbies and a new recipe he's thought of)

- his secret taste tester, before tang he let's you try all the new meals he has planned

- he tries to flirt but he sucks at it, you are kinda into that, it's cute

- He's very vocal but nervous when it comes to affection but gives it in abundance

- the way he proposes is asking if you wanna help parent mk

- if you ever fight (usually on work and taking breaks), you both give each other the silent treatment; pigsby usually caves first (hes hot headed but once he cools down its liek why was i even mad???) and goes to talk things out, usually the shop is closed next day and you both are on a date

#male reader #x male reader #Lmk x male reader

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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year

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Moonlight, A Pink Scarf Universe Story

A/N: So, I was challenged to do a prompt game, and since I'm desperately trying to fight my perfectionism and become more consistent with my writing, I took on the challenge and wrote this dramatic little heartbreaker this afternoon just under the wire like crazy person. I hope you enjoy this short, barely edited extension of Pink Scarf. It takes place a few months after the Christmas 1960 flashback in Part 16. (Please go easy on me because it is literally the least revised/edited thing I've ever put out and I desperately hope you like it 💗)

Thanks to @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @be-my-ally and @vintageshanny for challenging me to do this even when I wanted to convince myself I couldn't do it.

Prompt: “Do you mind? I came here to get away from other people.”

Rating: PG-13 || Word Count: 2k

TW: Miscarriage, medical trauma, angst, depression, intrusive thoughts

Moonlight

Hawaii, March 1961

The room is pressing in on you with all these jovial faces, celebrating in paradise after Elvis’ successful benefit concert for the Pearl Harbor Arizona Memorial. You should be celebrating with them.

You wish you could.

Instead, you are fighting back tears, praying that no one notices your frantic need to escape the otherwise wonderful atmosphere.

Elvis decided to bring you all along for a month-long vacation of sorts as he films his newest picture, Blue Hawaii, and performs the benefit concert to raise money for the Memorial. Y’all need some rest and recreation, he’d said joyfully, his eyes falling on you in particular, and how could you possibly refuse? It genuinely seemed like a great idea, even though he’d technically be working, and so would Jack by extension, but a change of scenery would do you some good after everything that's happened. Maybe you and Jack could reconnect on the tropical getaway, you’d thought.

But so much had happened since you agreed to this trip.

No one knew, of course. Not Jack. Not your family. Certainly not Elvis. You had made sure of it because you couldn’t stand the hopeful looks that would have come with the news, and the inevitable pity that would’ve come after.

The humid Hawaiian air coupled with the room full of people makes you feel as though you can’t draw a full breath. Lightheaded, you push your way through the throng of people filling the lavish home that had been rented for the express purpose of Elvis being able to stay comfortable and private during his shooting schedule. It’s an incredible relief once you burst out onto the patio, then stumble down the sandy path to the breathtaking beach.

Surprisingly, there’s not a soul on the moonlit sand, and for that you are eternally grateful because you cannot hold back your choked sobs any longer. The ebb and flow of the surf crashes over your crying, and you very much wish you could drown your sorrows in the vastness of the ocean in front of you.

Getting pregnant again was not even something you thought was possible. It was cruel, you thought, that you’d nearly made it 12 weeks this time before your body decided that it would reject the baby. You had just started to really, truly think it would be different this time. You were getting ready to tell Jack. You were almost, almost happy.

Even more cruel was that it was almost a year to the day of you bleeding out on the floor of the Rollerdome.

In some ways you’d been thankful that everyone had been so busy preparing for the trip that no one paid much mind to the fact that you locked yourself in the bathroom for hours, silently sobbing through the cramping and the bleeding and the clotting. You’d known then it was too late.

Tears stream down your cheeks as you hug your knees and begin to rock in the soft sand. At least it’s beautiful here, you think absently, trying to soothe yourself.

You’d taken to bed, claiming a bout of food poisoning, and no one was the wiser, being as excited and busy as they were. Not one of them seemed to bat an eye or think it was strange that no one else had any symptoms. A small part of you breaks a little at that, feeling more alone in the world than you ever have. But another part figures it’s just as well. Perhaps it is a blessing that no one knew of your latest failure. Honestly, you so were disappointed in yourself over it all you didn’t think could handle that disappointment from others, especially Jack.

Two days after losing your second child, you’d gotten on the plane to come here, spending hours upon hours with a false smile spread across your features. Maybe if you smiled enough you’d start to believe it. After all, you were in paradise with Elvis Presley. Millions would kill to be where you are.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Be grateful for what you have, you berate yourself, as you have more than once on the trip. Not even the stunning beauty of the island has been able to push your thoughts away from your loss, your seemingly unending sorrow permeating even the most beautiful of sunsets.

The only moment when you’d felt truly free of it had been watching Elvis’ concert earlier. He was so mesmerizing that it was impossible not to be caught up in his performance. You’d been happy for the momentary distraction, for the way your heart had flip flopped a little at the sight of him in his element, sweaty and feeding off the crowd effortlessly. It was easy to get swept away amongst all the screaming fans, to understand why the man you’d called a friend was the sensation that he was, and to forget everything but him for just a little while.

But by the time this stupid afterparty rolled around, the dark cloud that followed you this past year found you once more, and you were honestly too tired to push it away any longer.

You can’t help thinking how you should have an infant with you now, that in a kinder world you’d have your baby and perhaps another on the way. But the world is not always kind. Instead you are empty and alone.

So you find yourself sobbing on a gorgeous beach in Hawaii in the middle of the night, finally allowing yourself to sit in the grief of your misfortune.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been out here before his tall, lanky frame towers over you, interrupting your grief so suddenly that you find yourself livid.

You furiously swipe the tears from your cheeks, knowing your makeup is smearing but not having the energy or wherewithal to care. “Do you mind? I came here to get away from other people,” you snap.

Even in the darkness, you see how taken aback he is by your anger, his pretty face shifting from surprise to annoyance.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who brought you to this beautiful place?” Elvis says lightly, but you can hear the edge in his tone. He’s not used to people speaking like that to him, least of all you.

Honestly, you’re not really sure when you last spoke to him at all. Since your strange little embrace on Christmas, he’d taken to avoiding you most of the time, yet again. Coupled with how empty you felt from your miscarriages, the fact that your friend had been so obviously (and seemingly purposefully) absent from your life in the past year was heartbreaking in its own right. It was like a slap in the face on top of your other failures, so far from the unbridled excitement he’d shown when he’d discovered your first pregnancy before anyone else had. So far from the love and care and attention he’d given you before.

You’re not sure you really understood how much it bothered you until this very moment. His sudden entitlement for attention and gratefulness makes your blood boil.

You pop up off the sand, pushing your windblown hair out of your face. “Oh, yes, how sorry I am that not every one of my thoughts is about your stunning generosity, your majesty,” you say sarcastically, viciously, before turning to stomp down the beach away from him. You’ve never, ever spoken to him this way, to anyone this way, but the darkness of your sorrow has flared into something else entirely, this blistering anger threatening to swallow you whole and take Elvis with you.

“Excuse me?” he says indignantly, grasping your arm and whipping you back to face him. His eyes flash in the darkness, both in confusion and with warning.

“Don’t touch me!” you spit, ripping your arm out of his grasp.

“What has gotten into you? What the hell did I do?” he shouts, his voice raising over the surf.

“Not everything is about you, Elvis!” you scream back at him.

For a second, it looks as if you’ve slapped him across the face, with the way his eyes widen in surprise.

You pause for a moment, breath heaving, before continuing. “And since when do you even care what’s going on with me?”

“W-What are ya talkin’ about? O-Of course I care! I-I-I brought ya on this trip, d-d-didn’t I?” The emotions fly over his features so quickly it makes it too hard to discern what he’s thinking, but his stutter belies his frustration.

“You’ve barely talked to me in a year, Elvis. Can’t imagine why I’d think you care,” you scoff.

His eyes go dark, then blank, that Hollywood mask of his sliding over his features. “You’re nuts! You’re just bein’ crazy…” he starts, shaking his head.

“Yeah, I must be. I must be crazy thinkin’ my friend might give me the time of day after…everything that’s happened,” you hiss back.

Elvis blinks, his long lashes fanning over his cheekbones. You don’t know if he’s finally done the math in his head, figuring out that you nearly died and lost your baby almost exactly a year ago. Or maybe, like he’d somehow known you were pregnant the first time, he gleans some supernatural understanding of what might be happening with you now. Either way, his gaze softens dramatically.

“Oh, honey,” he says, “I didn’t—”

Yeah, you didn’t, you think bitterly. He didn’t do a lot of things. He wasn’t even there after you almost died. But you suppose being a star of his caliber didn’t leave him much time to slum it with you, not anymore. And why would he want to? Not when you’ve been depressed and have already failed at the one thing you felt you were created to do as a woman.

“Just leave me alone, E. You’ve gotten good at that,” you mutter, angry tears filling your eyes, turning away from him to stare out into the churning waves.

You can’t look at him. But you feel the heat of his eyes, nonetheless.

“Don’t do that, y/n,” he says quietly.

“Don’t do what? Speak the truth?”

“You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he growls.

He doesn’t get to be angry. Not about this.

“No, you don’t know, Elvis. You have no idea what it’s been like, you couldn’t. And you haven’t even tried…” you trail off, shaking your head.

You know that’s a lie. Whatever had happened between you on Christmas had been something, as much as you’d tried to deny it and forget his strange behavior. Perhaps that had been him trying.

Suddenly, more than anything, you want him to pull you into his arms like he did that night three months ago. You want him to comfort you and let you sob against his chest, to inhale the distinct scent of him as the heat of his lean body presses into yours. You want the desperate tension that is climbing between you to shatter you and make you forget that the past year had ever happened.

But instead of drawing you close, you watch him put distance between you. You feel as he fortifies that invisible wall he’s built between you this past year. It’s only in the depths of his churning cobalt eyes that you see something akin to apology, along with something deeper that neither of you truly wants to unpack.

Then, Elvis shutters that churning away, his fist clenching and unclenching in time with his jaw. “Yeah, I guess not. I’ll leave ya alone, then.” And he turns and walks away.

Oh god. You feel as though you’ve been hit in the chest, pain radiating inexplicably through your torso, the claws of his dismissal ripping through your insides. You don’t know why. You wanted him to go, and he went.

You sink down into the sand, fresh tears pooling in your eyes, and you wish more than anything that the ocean would just swallow you whole.

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211 @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy @amiets2 @saintmagx

@kvcssghbjbcd @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @wstelandbaby @dre6ming @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42 @thejezebel @fullmetal-falcon @robinismywife @dre6ming @seaweedbrain00 @amiets2 @mslizziesblog @heisatroubleinapinksuit @calusussss @dont-feel-so-good-peter @rainydayz101 @pizzaisrelationshipgoals

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch @tattywood

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23 @ab4eva

@fic-over-cannon @lacyluver @littlebitofgreen @paigevis @godlypresley @bugg06 @xhannahbananax03 @artlover8992

@18lkpeters @frozenhuntress67 @girlblogger2002 @kendralavon7 @elvisgf @misspresley @ohjustpeachyachy1 @whositmcwhatsit @be-my-ally @precious-little-scoundrellittle-scoundrel @vintageshannygeshanny @from-memphis-with-lovephis-with-love @prompted-wordsmithmith @ellie-2424 @thatbanditqueennditqueen @stylespresleyhearted @elv1s-is-pretty @crash-and-cure

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masivechaos · 1 year

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BOOKSHOP MEETING

remus lupin x gn! reader

Request: yes / no

see the request here!

Synopsis: you finally can buy this book, but apparently you are not the only one interested

Warning/content: mention of cigarette/smoking/smoke, muggle reader/wizard remus, college/post hogwarts, quick proofreading, my English

a.n.: 1k words- need to meet remus at a bookshop rn

masterlist/ marauders masterlist / navigation / taglist

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

Your lips tugged up, a crescent moon of a smile, when you saw the book you were searching for, it was the last copy. It was your favourite book for as long as you could remember, you were collecting every edition of it and a new one came out a few weeks ago.

But you had to wait before buying it because college years weren’t the richest ones and you couldn’t afford to spend your money like this. But now that you received your salary from your small shitty job, you could allow yourself.

You stretched out your hand, ready to grab your book, and your fingers bumped into another hand. You let out a small gasp out of surprise “Oh sorry” you said before turning your head to find out who was going to ruin your excitement.

And there your gaze fell on a tall man with sandy hair contrasting his pale skin. He had beautiful brown eyes that you couldn’t help but stare at. He shook his head to let you understand it’s okay “It’s me”

His voice was deep and grew a weird sensation in your stomach, maybe that’s why they meant in books when they talked about butterflies. You felt heat rushing to your cheeks, since when you were shy in front of a stranger?

You both stared at each other in silence, with timid and awkward smiles. After long seconds of silence, you managed to pronounce a few words “Y-you can take it” your hand showed the black spine of the book.

The stranger’s eyes widened slightly “No, no. Take it” he invited you with a quiet voice as if he was out of breath in front of you. You shook your head with a smile, you couldn’t deny how his scars made him very mysterious so very attractive.

“I already have it… nine times” you said, a small chuckle leaving your lips. The man joined you in your laughter, impressed you had so many copies of the same combinations of words.

He took the book out off the shelf and looked attentively at the cover “I collect the different editions. This one is new. It’s my favourite book” He couldn’t help but find you adorable at your excitement, pink rising to his cheeks.

“So- um- the book is good?” he finished by asking after a long minute, not wanting this conversation to end. And it didn’t miss, your eyes lit up as your smile widened, glad someone cared.

“Yeah…” you didn’t expect him to ask you something “The characters are endearing and the writing is mind-blowing!” you stopped there before revealing the entire plot. You wet your lips, suddenly feeling so little under his stare, you nervously tucked a piece of hair behind your ear as you took a deep breath. And the man offered you a smile “Then I’ll be happy to read it”

Your neck and ears were now also chased by heat, your flush not stopping exclusively at your face anymore. You rested your side against the wooden bookcase “D-do you- maybe- have some recommendations for me?” you whispered, eyes not quitting his.

The corner of his lips lifted up “Yeah” you were expecting him to move but he just stayed there. It’s after long seconds that he finally shook his head, getting out of his thoughts and started to walk through the bookshop.

He stopped in front of the crime novel section and grabbed a book on the highest shelf. He handed it to you “Great characters, perfect murders, unexcepted plot twist. It keeps you up all night” you bit your lower lip with a nod, reading the back cover.

Your lips turned down, offering the man a lopsided smile. With a bob of your head, you silently asked him if he wanted to head to the checkout and he nodded.

You waited for him to pay before handing the book to the cashier. The man didn’t seem to know if he had to wait or not “Just wait for me outside it’s fine” he acquiesced and you watched him as he darted out of the shop.

“Can I have a little piece of paper with maybe a pen?” you asked the lady at the other side of the counter. With a small ‘sure’ she turned her back before giving you a sticky note and a pencil. You glanced at the stranger waiting outside, he just had lit up a cigarette. You felt your heart throb in your chest and grabbed the pencil and scribbled on the paper.

When you joined him outside he smiled, carefully moving from your left to your right so the smoke didn’t reach you. You took time to breathe properly and handed him the note.

He raised his eyebrow as he read and let out a chuckle when he was done, you just had written your phone number and name “Y/n?” you nodded with a fakely confident smile because inside you were panicked it was too much. “I love your name. And I will definitely call you” your smile widened, and you stared at the ground.

“Thank you…” you trailed off, waiting for him to speak “Remus”

You looked up at Remus, with the lights from outside he was even more handsome, making him somehow mysterious. “Well… I’ll see you around” you showed with a head nod your bus stopping.

He smiled “Yeah” his eyes didn’t leave your frame as you stepped on the bus and he stared at the bus until it was just a little dot on the horizon line. He looked down at his hand, the paper you gave him in his palm.

Remus folded it and placed it in his back pocket, he bit his lip to hide the big grin he wanted to make just by thinking about you. He didn’t wait before walking back home, he was going to spend the night reading your book, wanting to know what you loved about it. But first, he was going to call you, he was even already planning in his mind what he was going to tell you.

He was never more grateful to go to the bookstore because he might not just find novels, he might find love too.

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.──

⋆ ★ remus lupin taglist: @ell0ra-br3kk3r @sw34terw34ther @cauliflowertree @madison-rebel @witchylele @moonlitmeeks @vintagepearlss @rhydianissuperior

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devils-little-sista · 2 days

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Ok I seem to somehow be the only one to see the differences between all the blonde boys in riordanverse so I’m gonna explain

Luke is 6’2 lanky tall build very tan very noticeable narly scar on his eyes deep/dark blue eyes defined angular features sharp triangle jaw line hooked nose is crooked from being broken several times sharp cheekbones short hair looks like he either cut it himself or a 12 year old did it sandy color (becomes paler in the titans curse and battle of the labyrinth and last Olympian as he probably spends a lot of time underground in the labyrinth or just not outside in the sun like he used to)

Jason is 6’0 beefy build paler skin even though he spends time in the sun he’s just doesn’t tan he’s naturally paler than the other blondes icy light blue eyes square and robust features square jaw line smooth flat cheekbones faded small scar on his lip and usually glasses short military buzzcut hair natural bleach blonde

Will is 5’8 lanky very tan and softer rounder features eyes are very bright blue no scars has freckles on his cheeks and nose button nose chubby cheeks no bones wavy slight frizzy hair longer than Jason’s and Luke’s it would be curlier if he took care of it properly but ocean and lake water have damaged it bright golden blonde in the right lighting may look strawberry blonde/red highlights blonde

Magnus is 5’10 a little tan but not as much as Luke and Will gets paler in the winter like Jason gray eyes not blue no scars on his face soft square features flat cheekbones angular nose longer shaggy straight bleach blonde hair used to lankier before he died but eats the right amount of food now

Octavian is 6’0 very lanky skinny angular defined triangle features sharp jaw pointy cheekbones so shard look like he’s wearing contour hooked nose seems to be a little upturned but it’s not it’s just the way he holds his head back he stands up tall good posture pale very paler than everybody else short buzzed bleach blonde hair

Apollo is 6’2 beefy build defined square robust feathers square jaw line cheekbones for days hooked nose very tan all the time long golden blonde kinda looks strawberry blonde at golden hour/sunset

Show Percy is 5’8/5’10 (probably going to be taller later he’s only 12/13) blue eyes and curly kinda long blonde hair angular features

@the-asexual-winter edit: terribly sorry I forgot about Hearthstone but here he is: Hearthstone is very tall lanky build very light bleach blonde almost white short hair light gray eyes long thin angular features square face (more like rectangle) and sharp pointy jaw

And that’s it I hope this helps someone tell the difference between them. Also I just realized that the Kane chronicles is the only series that has a lack blonde boys.

#blonde boys riordanverse #riordanverse blondes #PJO blondes #Luke Castellan #Jason Grace #Will Solace #Magnus Chase #Octavian #Percy Jackson #show Percy Jackson #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #Trials of Apollo #Apollo #Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard #mcga

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ma1dita · 2 months

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trouble's coming for you

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 3.7k

summary: (established relationship) suggestive banter lol The one where Percy meets his two favorite counselors at Camp Half-Blood. Also known as the three times Percy is completely oblivious about you two, plus the time he learns what L-O-V-E looks like for two teen demigods. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader)

a/n: PERCY POV!!! maybe the real enemy was the blue balls Luke got from a clueless 12-year-old. you’re gonna tell me you wouldn’t overthrow the gods too? scream at me in the comments and feel free to reblog :)

(posted 2/29/24, edited!!! i think!!! four hours of sleep later and a big kiss to @hotchfiles miss lari as always for inspo mwah)

—

What’s in a name?

One of the last defining memories Percy Jackson had with his mother before arriving at Camp Half-Blood was her reminder that names have power. He’s held fast to that belief, treading carefully with his words in this unfamiliar place that he’s supposed to call home so soon after losing his own.

Being the new kid for the hundredth time in his life means that he’s accustomed to change, much less introducing himself as Percy Jackson, whatever that means at this point—but then becoming known simply as the kid who causes trouble. What then, is he supposed to do, when his first friend at camp introduces him to a girl who embodies the name trouble?

To Luke, through Percy’s actions, it seems as if he’s trying to reclaim a crown that currently belongs to the beloved head counselor of Camp Half-Blood.

—

The dining pavilion is filled with mouth-watering scents and the sound of chattering campers to the point that it’s a bit overstimulating if he thinks too hard about it. Mr. Brunn—er, Chiron told him to take it easy after the events from yesterday, but he feels a bit tough on luck after making Luke run circles around camp trying to find what he’s good at.

“Is there a Greek god of disappointment? Maybe someone should ask if he’s missing a kid,” Percy says glumly, pushing the mac and cheese around on his plate. Luke sighs, letting the boy to his right speak.

“Oizys,” Chris mumbles through full cheeks before he cocks his head at the 12-year-old, “but she’s a goddess, and her whole thing isn’t really disappointment, it’s more like failure.”

Luke looks to Chris with a half smile before looking back at the kid and saying, “We’re gonna find the thing you’re good at. I know it.” He looks like he’s going to say something else before something, or someone catches his attention and it’s almost like the older boy is transfixed, eyes shining with mischief or something deeper that Percy’s young brain couldn’t comprehend just yet.

“And here comes trouble…” Luke says with a smirk, eyes following your figure until your feet take you to their table. The sandy-haired boy twists around, expecting to see a goddess of some sort until he sees you, violet eyes and a lilt of something sinister—giving off the energy of someone who holds power but also likes to fuck with it. You cross your arms over your chest, gaze floating over the three boys and at the tip of your chin, Luke takes his plate off the table, prompting you to hop up and slide onto the smooth surface in front of him.

“You look like someone kicked your puppy, so you must be the new kid. Peter, right?”

A snort of laughter comes from behind your slouched form, Luke partially concealed but body obviously shaking with amusement as he looks at you.

“He might just turn out to be a puppy kicker one day,” the son of Hermes jokes, “Meet Percy Jackson.”

“That’s not…”

You sigh at Luke’s idea of a joke, face incredulous as you lean over and conjure strawberries onto Percy’s plate. He’d never seen anything like that before, someone so casual about their abilities, but he didn’t have much of a reference past yesterday. This camp keeps surprising him in ways he’s never imagined possible.

“Heard D gave you a hard time earlier, sorry about him—I’d blame it on withdrawals but he’s just an asshole,” you offer with a smile and a handshake as you introduce yourself, watching the boy’s eyes widen with wonder.

“It’s not your fault…I’m used to being the new kid.”

Eyebrows furrowing at his tone, you lean in closer, voice turning serious. You’re a lot like Mr. D in the sense that it’s easy for you to poke at the kids who come through here for a reaction to make sure they’re okay mentally. When they don’t react is usually the call for help.

“Well, new kid, if anyone gives you a problem here at camp, you let me know. Even if it’s these two hooligans, or if it’s my dad.”

“You’re talking to our lovely head counselor, Percy. She calls the shots around here,” Chris chimes in jest. But only one part of your sentence sticks in his mind as he whips his head up from munching on a berry.

“He’s your dad?”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” you giggle, “and though you’re sweet and I would love to have you as a sibling, he kind of has a rule on having too many kids at once, unlike other gods.”

“A rule he’s already broken,” Luke drones, hand fidgeting with the black bandana tied around your thigh, “but who knows? If Percy ends up to be one of you, well…may the gods have mercy on us all.”

A deadpan stare is directed at the scarred boy, and you swipe at his curls like a feral cat, making him wince and laugh all the same as he bats you away.

“Tough shit, 11. Do you know how many hellions inhibit your cabin? Your dad inflicts agony on me personally every time another one of your siblings walks past the boundaries.”

The petty squabble is interrupted by the chime of the bell over your heads, but you two are still in a world of your own. It reminds Percy of the time he watched two subway rats fight over a pizza slice on the 6—he didn’t really know who to root for then either. Chris sighs and gets up, nudging Luke to follow, which he does begrudgingly as he claps his large hand on your leg. You hiss.

“Our turn!” Luke says with a hint of sarcasm.

“Our turn for what?”

“Burnt offerings,” you explain as you chomp on a strawberry, “the gods like the smell, so it gets their attention before you say a prayer.” You notice Percy stay in his seat, which makes a smile pull at your lips, “Think you’re off the hook for today though, bud. Or you can be just like me.”

“Don’t give him any ideas, trouble. I’ll throw in a few for Hestia.” Luke chews at his lip as he leans over you to grab a few berries off of Percy’s plate to toss into the fire for you.

“You don’t pray?”

“I’m not really the religious type. I’ve got what I need,” you concede, leaning back on your palms as you watch the son of Hermes stand for a few extra seconds at the hearth. “Besides, my godrent is right over there, and Luke worries enough for me. It’s more his thing,” you say with a lazy smile. The campers filing out of the dining hall wave at you and you enthusiastically greet everyone with dancing fingers. He doesn’t think he’s ever met anyone that…happy to be on the job, but things work differently around here, so he doesn’t think much of your upbeat attitude.

“Eat up. Some of that strength has to go to you. Gonna need it.” You say ruffling Percy’s hair, and when Luke comes back, he tugs at the shoelaces of your boots until you kick his hands away. You both share a smile like people do a secret, even here in the open air.

“Do they like the smell of burnt mac and cheese?” Percy says curiously, eating another spoonful of the meal. His head hurts at another thing to consider in this brand-new world he’s walked into.

“They like the smell of begging,” Luke grins, and you laugh like a firework going off, making Percy’s lips pull up into a smile.

“I’m not much of a beggar though, if you ask me.”

The son of Hermes hums at you like he wants to say otherwise, and you slap his chest as you suck air through your teeth. Beneath the wood top of the table and with Percy being none the wiser, your fingers intertwine with Luke’s like it’s second nature.

“You burn what you’ll miss the most. Then they know you really mean what you’re about to say, so they listen.”

Luke takes a breath after explaining how things work for the nth time to the kid, knowing Percy’s quite persistent about making his dad notice him. He remembers being jaded too—striving to be the best for a lick of his dad’s attention and all of his efforts were done in vain. Even though the kid’s arrival at camp was a bit unexpected, Luke doesn’t mind showing him around.

Hopefully, less work on your end means that he can spend more time with you once this is over with— but by the looks of how the day is going so far, he’s not so sure. He hopes his offerings reach the gods and they grant him extra patience for his good deeds. Watching you laugh at something Percy says as you all walk out of the dining pavilion, Luke wonders if you know that every offering he burns for the goddess of the hearth and home is so that she’ll protect you.

—-

“Lights out in 10 minutes, cabin 11! Everyone ready for bed?”

The sound of your voice jolts Percy awake from his post-dinner nap and he blinks slowly until he sees you walking towards him with extra blankets and pillows in your grasp. The other campers were kind of stand-offish, and after praying to his mom he was overwhelmed with the feeling of missing her, so much so that it drained the rest of his energy.

“Long day, huh bud?”

Drowsy with sleep, for a moment, Percy forgets where he is—the unfamiliar walls of the cabin making him shift with unease as he rubs at his eyes. The blurry version of you makes his chest go warm and for a second, it’s like—

“Mom?”

He blinks again, his pale face turning red when he realizes his slip-up. Percy’s shoulders drop when he hears giggles from somewhere in the big cabin and you reach out to smooth his hair away from his face with a gentle smile.

“Don’t worry about it. Everyone who first comes to 11 gets nightmares. For some of them, they don’t leave,” you mutter. Percy notices your eyes flicker over to Luke’s bed, where he’s zipping up his hoodie and chatting with one of his half-siblings. Cabin 11 is finally quieting down for the night—children scrambling into their bunks, doing nighttime routines, and having quiet conversations. It’s all so weird, this being everyone’s normal.

“You’re not alone though. Saw you earlier, outside. I still pray to my mom sometimes. She's quite the listener,” you say with a sad twinkle in your eye. The kid sniffs as you hand him the pillows and blankets, finally meeting your gaze.

“Did your mom…” Die too? The words feel like lead in his throat, feeling heavy as he swallows it down. He doesn’t want to cry in front of the pretty counselor, much less speak the truth, because if he says it out loud, it means his mom dying must have been real. Also since you’ve seen him sit in the dark of the forest burning blue jelly beans like a freak. What he didn’t know is that you pride yourself on being one. It takes one to know one, after all.

“Yeah. Makes for one hell of an origin story, but I found my place here, and people who care. I know you will too, when you’re rea—” Your words trail off when you see Luke walk past the both of you with a cool expression before he nods towards the door, and you squeeze Percy’s shoulder before getting up.

“Night guys! It’s getting late so we’ll have to do a story next time, okay?” You walk down the aisle patting heads and tucking in smaller campers, and he hears you whack the younger Stoll brother when he teasingly says, “It’s not fair that Luke gets a bedtime story and we don’t…”

“Connor, enough. I’ve lost count of how many times you’ve woken up and called me mom, so save it for tomorrow.” He must have been the one laughing earlier.

“Everyone say goodnight trouble!” Luke calls out with a coy expression, making you roll your eyes as you flick the light off to a symphony of jeers. It’s finally quiet as Percy is propped up against some pillows that smell like raspberries and soft cotton before he realizes he has to pee.

But Chris said harpies hunt kids after curfew… he thinks.

In a moment of sheer panic, Percy looks around in the darkness of the cabin before the sound of your cackling pierces through the dim light from the outside. He hops up from the makeshift cot and tugs his shoes back on, slowly creeping past the long row of bunks to not disturb other campers before he gets to the door. Your head turns quickly to the intrusion as you spring away from Luke, stubbing a cigarette underneath the wood panel out of sight when Percy steps through the doorway.

“Sorry, I need to use the bathroom,” he says sheepishly as Luke nods, scratching his neck and leaning a far distance away from you. Under the low burning lamps, Percy notices Luke’s cheeks redden and he wonders if he is interrupting something, but the urge to go increases as he steps between you two.

“Right. I’ll walk you to yours?” Luke blurts in one breath. With a wordless smile on your lips, you nod before Percy purposely interrupts this time.

“I can walk her, it’s on the way to the bathrooms, right?”

If only this poor kid knew he was being the cockblock of the century.

“Yeah, Percy’s got me. The harpies won’t like you missing curfew, Castellan,” you tease, stepping around him with a shit-eating grin. Your hair almost floats in the gentle breeze, and Luke rolls his eyes.

“Stay out of trouble. I mean it,’ he sighs, before shoving you off the porch, and you laugh at the irony of his words. Looking back at Luke, Percy noticed his eyes were on you like he wanted to live in your skin, which was equal parts disgusting and confusing to the 12-year-old. His steps double in pace as you both walk down the path and a brief side glance at your stifled smile quickly makes the kid wonder if you’d let him. Pushing the sleeves of Luke’s hoodie past your elbows, you wave at Percy’s rushing figure as he almost bolts to the bathroom and you lean against the doorway of your empty cabin. You turn the light on and look across the way to see your boyfriend still leaning against his door, so you flip him off. Of course, he takes that as his cue to saunter over.

But then the loud clanging sound of pipes bursting reaches both of your ears and toilet water floods the dirt near the back end of your cabin.

So close.

“I’m gonna go check on Annie to see if she’s still on duty. Tough luck, babe,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his cheek before walking in the direction that Percy went, sending the son of Hermes to drag his feet towards your cabin, alone (he didn’t expect to fall asleep propped over your covers waiting up for you, but a lot happened in that damn bathroom).

—

“Hey, today feel like a winning kind of day to you?” Annabeth smirks at the son of Hermes. Next to them, Percy feels a hand clap him on the shoulder and all three of them turn to see you donning red.

“Didn’t you three hear the conch? Wouldn’t want you to fall behind,” you say with a grin as Luke steps up to you and whistles lowly.

“Didn’t know you were playing today. It’s a shame you look that good in red.”

Annabeth fake gags as she crosses her arms to say, “You’re also currently on enemy territory if you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, you wound me. I’m not a threat. Percy, I obviously don’t have the flag, right?”

He nods a bit dumbly, still worried about the mechanics of the game and the part he has to play for the blue team, but no one else seems to share his concerns.

“Anyways, sorry I’m not on your team, Perce. The Ares kids snatched me up as soon as my name was on the roster, so I came to wish you all luck.”

“This better not be a diversion tactic, trouble,” Luke simpers, playfully tugging at your staff, which you use for leverage to step up onto a rock to meet him at eye level.

“Nah. You know I like the competition, angelface,” you whisper, almost daring him to do something.

“Bite me, trouble.”

There’s a fire in his eyes you’d love to stoke, but now’s not the time or place. You can’t help but indulge though—the both of you enjoy the reactions you can pull from each other.

“You’d like it too much.”

“Alright now,” Annabeth groans, calling your name, rolling her eyes as she pulls at Luke’s arm, “Gotta remember he’s your enemy!”

“I’M TRYING!” You laugh, shaking your head and walking back towards your team as you shoot them a fake salute. It all happens too quickly as Percy’s unable to catch the spitfire words between the two of you, thinking further about how he might get maimed during this game (which in the grand scheme of things, he almost does. Thanks Clarisse).

“Those two are hopeless! Walk faster, sunshine—we lost too much time watching whatever that was.” Percy stumbles along the forest path as he follows Annabeth, the both of them leaving Luke smirking to himself as he follows the rest of their team.

Hours later, at Clarisse’s muddy feet and holding her broken spear, Percy hears cheering in the distance as he watches the blue team led by Luke waving the red flag in one hand and your legs supported by his other. You’re in a fireman’s hold across his shoulders and everyone watches as the son of Hermes spins you around like a Tilt-a-Whirl until the sound of your shrieks is audible from the shoreline. He sets you down gently, dominant hand still around your waist as he snickers, “Got my win and my girl. Must be time to celebrate.” You laugh at his absurdity, pulling his helmet off and wiping the sweat off his forehead with your bandana.

“You’re always going to be a loser in my eyes.”

Slapping the plush of your hip, the sound echoes in the air—suddenly quiet as you gasp. But you’re not looking at Luke anymore, but rather the gleaming trident above Percy’s head as it’s revealed he’s a forbidden child. His jaw tightens at the sight, and there are a lot of emotions running through him, remembering Thalia and knowing that his plans will have to be altered once more because of Percy Jackson. You squeeze his hand before walking away from him to follow your dad and Chiron to the Big House, shooting him a nervous glance.

Damn.

—

The boys have been sparring for hours, and just as you think Percy’s getting the hang of it, Luke thrusts forward with an energy no one should have towards a 12-year-old. Although a bit concerning, he does have a lot to catch up on how to fight like a demigod before his quest in a few days.

“Take a break or else you’ll be crawling away from camp by the end of the week,” you joke, handing Percy and Luke bottles of cold water. Your boyfriend takes big gulps before pouring the rest over his head, leaving you gaping and a little hot under his stare as he nudges your chin and winks.

“You’re doing that on purpose!”

Luke shrugs slyly, and the both of you watch Percy catch his breath. He leans over your shoulder, the tone of his voice sultry as it tickles your ear, “What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other word would smell as sweet.”

You bite your lip, before bursting with laughter—which isn’t exactly the reaction he thought you’d have. Maybe he should’ve finished reading the sonnet before falling asleep, but you always take too long with your nighttime skincare routine.

“That doesn’t mean what you think it means, but you’re cute for trying,” you coo, leaning closer so that your cheek touches his. Luke’s whole face is warm from exertion and now embarrassment, but he smiles nonetheless at the proximity. He can’t believe he still misses you, even when you’re skin-to-skin like this.

“That stanza…Isn’t it about names being meaningless?” Percy says between gasps of air before he pours the rest of the water bottle over his head like Luke did. He’s looking up at the both of you as he leans against a tree, instantly feeling more rejuvenated.

You jerk up from your seated position on the large rocks, excited to talk about Shakespeare, and Luke almost pouts at the loss of your attention.

“Yeah! Good job, bud. I forget you went to a hoity-toity charter school,” you say tongue-in-cheek, before turning back to your boy.

“So Romeo would, were he not Romeo called, retain that dear perfection which he owes without that title. Romeo, doff thy name, and, for thy name, which is no part of thee, take all myself. You’re gonna have to interpret that one yourself, angelface.”

“Trust I have no fucking clue but you sound really hot when you talk dirty to me,” Luke says with a shrug. Percy laughs at that, before finally bringing up the question that’s been on his mind since Luke introduced you to him.

“Why do you call her trouble? She seems okay to me.”

“Thanks,” you say dryly, but the older boy leans on his arm with a lovestruck expression as he gazes at you. Oh…Percy thinks, brain feeling freshly washed. How did he miss that?

“She used to get in trouble a lot,” he says, before you elbow him hard, “I mean, we used to get in trouble, she’d always drag me into it.”

“You always offered! Don’t twist the fucking story,” you shriek, and the boys laugh at your exasperation.

“Yeah anyways, she’d always find me. Still does, my partner in crime. Trouble always comes for me,” Luke murmurs, waggling his eyebrows and intertwining your fingers together. Your jaw drops and cheeks flush and Percy thinks he understands better now, but gets confused again with what you do next.

You almost slap the goddamn scar off that boy’s face.

—

It is a terrible thing to be so open: it is as if my heart put on a face and walked into the world. -Sylvia Plath

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#luke castellan x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo x reader #luke castellan fluff #trouble!verse #made by ma1dita ♥︎#luke castellan x dionysus!reader #percy series #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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bamfoftheundead · 8 months

Text

Beach Stuff [revised]

Was cleaning up and found my little beach drabble from about a year ago or so. Did some editing to smooth out the wrinkles. Hope it sounds better

it feels too short to post to ao3 so I'll keep it here. for anyone new its the revised version of this

@dannybagpipesarecalling @kurtty-drabbles

______________________________________________________________

Dusting the sand from his backside, which only spread it further into his fur, Kurt was beginning to regret choosing the beach. He loved the ocean and all it had to reveal but the sand, he just couldn’t do it. Huffing, he kicks out a leg as the micro pieces of itchy hell scrape terribly between his legs- leaving a sand-rash sure to last. He normally loved the beach, when he was sitting in a chair preferably away from the sand in a temperature controlled environment with a sweet alcoholic beverage to enjoy.

Settling back into place he reranged his towel to hopefully give better protection from the harsh elements, which didn’t change his predicament in the slightest. Irritated and yearning to leave the wretched place he glanced outwards, towards the waves that lapped gently against the colorful shore. There, in the shallows he could see her. Haloed by blinding sunlight like some sort of sea nymph rising from the depths. For a moment he thinks of the birth of Venus and how fitting it is for her.

Kitty stomped around calf-deep in the clear water atop a sandbar, leaning down to examine a baby cuttlefish zooming by. Stepping around carefully to avoid cutting her foot open on some broken shells, Kitty crouches and dips a sun-screened hand into the water. Since coming here Kitty had found Krakoa’s beach to be full of rich ecosystems of all manner of sea life, it felt odd that one of the worst places could host such vibrant life. Looking back at the sandy shore she stifles a laugh, her blue lover wrestles with the towel below him in an attempt to keep the wind from blowing more sand onto his nearly beige fur. By the time they'd get home he'd be nothing more than a piece of human sandpaper. Her sight eventually drifted back to the shimmering ocean line. Kitty wondered where it ended, no other ocean in their hemisphere had such pure water with all the oil spills and general pollution. Giving Kurt a final glance she turns and wades deeper, letting the cool, strong current pull her away from the shore, away from everything.

As she dipped further out, waves lapping at her cheeks a line of thought she’d tried to avoid since her arrival surfaced, If she looked far enough below would she see herself? Would she be able to discern the burnt corpse her ‘friends’ had so lovingly discarded to the ocean rather then give her the proper funeral she deserved? Probably not. The idea of coming face to face without her previous body made her ill. Still the curiosity never wavered. What was she wearing when they shipped her off to sea? The boots her mother gifted her before the ultimate mass death-suicide ressurection? Maybe her old self was still wearing her grandmother's ring, she hadn’t been able to find it since awaking. Luckily, Kurt had saved her star of david. A small beam of light in her otherwise cloudy mindstorm. She’d made it a priority not to let herself sink back into the what-iffing, to not give into the existential dread. But something about the cool, empty ocean seemed to draw the memories right out of her head.

Letting another large wave sweep her under the deep blue she let her mind clear and sank. Her hands tense as she dove deeper, maybe she’d see herself down below? Maybe her ashes had spread into the never ending waves for all eternity, never given the respect or rest she’d thought she earned. It was probably stupid anyway, right? She came back in the end! But… still, looking into the empty sandbanks below she still felt the bitter ache deep in her gut, it wasn’t fair.

A sharp, jerky movement catches in her peripheral vision, kicking back up; she's greeted by a plume of violet smoke spread far and wide into the waves above. Painting the waves briefly deep indigo. Through the purple cloud a face peeks out, he sees her and smiles. Waving, Kitty kicks back to the surface. Breaking the water barrier and gasping for air she hadn’t noticed she needed. Kurt smiles as his wet curls fall into his eyes. Kitty laughs, reaching to push the black tendrils away.

Spitting out more water he shakes his head sheepishly, the same roguish grin held high and happily. From a distance Kitty could see the sun begin the set, the evening light disappearing beneath the now darkening tides. Tilting his head Kurt looks down at her, wrapping his arms around her to pull her close to him, somewhat easing that now enshrouded them. Kitty holds him close, fingers gripping handfuls of soaking fur in an effort to rest her sore arms and enjoy the sunset here, with him. Reaching forward he runs a wet, velvet-soft palm along her temple, then her cheek as his thumb pressed thoughtfully against her lips. His eyes brighten the dimness around the two, lighting for her. Pushing against the rough waves she closes the gap, pushing his hand down she kisses him. He kisses her back eagerly and doesn’t let go, he holds her close and he doesn’t let go. Her arms tense and tighten around his broad, sopping figure.

Sighing, she pulls back and lays her face onto his wet shoulder to stare off into the dark emptiness, a new feeling of contentment washing over her. His presence always seemed to fix away the darkness that crept in.

“Are you alright? ” Looking down at her with loving golden eyes.

“ I am now “ she mumbles tiredly. He holds her closer and laughs, using a free hand to push back wet strands of curled hair that had shaken loose from its bun.

“ Come then, let's go home “

#bamfs post #bamfs writing #kurtty #kurt wagner #kitty pryde #dont like the ship then keep sailing on #x men

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