#I don’t know who needs to hear this today but you are loved

[greengoblinswifey]

i need more fratboy Nicholas! Something with his ex girlfriend and the reader get jealous? I dont know, i just love youuuu ❤️

warnings— slight angst, jealous!reader, possessiveness, oral(f), bondage, praise kink, overstimulation, hair pulling, degrading kink, unprotected sex, creampie, fluff, L bombs.

a/n— lyt xx creating this fratboy!nicholas au was the best decision i made, requests are so open for it <33

Nicholas had always been the easygoing guy who somehow managed to calm you down and make you feel safe. But right now, he was inches away from losing that place with you. When you had left the library, you hadn’t expected that run-in with his ex—Amber, of all people. The way she had looked at you, sizing you up, then moved right in on your spot next to him, laughing too loud and touching his arm, was enough to make your blood boil. But you kept it together, stormed off, and left Nicholas to figure things out on his own.

Later that evening, you were still fuming. When Nicholas missed your first call, the pit in your stomach grew deeper. He never missed your calls. And then he finally picked up the second call, sounding cheerful—until you went straight to the point.

“Why didn’t you answer the first time?” you asked, your tone sharp.

“I was in the bathroom,” he said, sounding caught off guard. “I- I left my phone with Amber.”

Your heart sank, but your voice stayed steady. “Amber? As in, the girl I saw today?”

He hesitated, confirming your suspicion. “Yeah, she’s my ex, but it’s really nothing.”

You didn’t bother responding—you just hung up, leaving him in dead silence.

Not even five minutes later, there was frantic pounding on your door. When you opened it, there stood Nicholas, breathing hard, looking both apologetic and scared. He tried to take your hand, but you crossed your arms, blocking the doorway.

“Please hear me out, I’m sorry,” he started, his words tumbling over each other. “I didn’t want her there, okay? She- She just showed up, and I didn’t know how to get her to leave. I swear, I was only focused on studying—she was the one doing all the talking.”

You gave him a hard stare. “So, what if something happened to me, Nicholas? What if I needed you and you were off letting your fucking ex hold onto your phone?”

He looked down, guilt written across his face. “There’s no excuse,” he said, his voice soft. “I’m so sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise. I’ll never talk to her again, I didn’t even want her there. She’s just very persistent.”

The look in his eyes told you he was genuinely worried. He knew he’d messed up, and he was desperate to make it right. But that didn’t mean you were just going to let it slide. You narrowed your eyes at him, sizing him up as he stood in front of you, looking almost as if he was expecting you to throw him out.

Then, without saying a word, you grabbed him by the belt, pulling him inside and pushing him onto the bed. He looked up at you, startled, the hint of a smirk creeping onto his face as he realized where this was going.

You leaned over him, still glaring, your voice firm. “You’re mine, Nicholas. Remember that. And next time, you won’t even think about letting anyone else close to you. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, his voice barely a whisper, eyes wide and sincere. “I swear. I just—I only want you.”

You finally let a smile break through as you leaned down and captured his lips, letting him know you were still his—at least for now. The thought of Amber seeing his lock screen, a picture of Nicholas kissing your neck, your arms around each other made the anger in you settle, just a bit.

Your smile widened even more seeing him hard already when all you did was kiss him.

“Hard already huh?” you began, “is it for me or that white bitch?”

“You, I’m always hard for you and you only,” he said, looking up at you with pleading eyes, “please, can I touch you?”

You thought for a moment. “You don’t deserve to touch me, but I need your mouth on me.”

He stared up at you in desperation as you pulled out a small rope from under your bed. “Give me your hands.” He complied and though you wanted to punish him, you decided to tie his arms in front of him to make it a bit easier for him to pleasure you. “Good boy, now you can get to eat me out without touching me.”

Slowly, you stripped yourself of your clothing and he watched in awe, wishing he had his hands all over you. He wished he could squeeze your ass, grope your tits and trace his hands over your curves. Why did he have to fuck up so bad.

You pulled him up by his tied wrists and took his place on the bed, spreading your legs as he went on his knees, his mouth immediately on your pussy.

“Y-you taste amazing, but it’s so- so hard to make you feel good with my hands tied,” he whined.

“I’m doing fine and I’m feeling good, shut up and keep going.” You rolled your eyes and pushed his head back into your pussy.

His soft little whines made you throb as you clenched around his tongue, already feeling the impending orgasm.

“You’re close aren’t you baby? Mm— please cum on my tongue,” he said, struggling to keep himself up as he ate you out like you were his last meal.

You grabbed his hair roughly making him wince and began grinding your pussy on his face.

“Don’t let a drop go to waste,” you moaned.

Ever so obedient, Nicholas slurped and swallowed your juices as you squirted on his face. He loved how wet you got when you were turned on. How everything flowed from you so beautifully.

“Did I do good?” he asked, his lips pouty and his cheeks red.

“Hm, maybe, maybe not,” you answered, pulling him up by his hair.

He gasped as you shoved him onto the bed, pulling off his clothes with great force.

“You’re kinda scaring me baby,” he laughed nervously.

“Well, you should’ve thought about that before hanging with your ex.”

He pouted but watched intently as you straddled him, your tits he loved so much but couldn’t touch recoiling in his face.

“I’m really really sorry I— oh.” His desperate apology was cut off by a deep whimper as you sank down onto his thick cock waiting you.

“That’s right, shut the fuck up,” you smirked. You began bouncing and moving your hips, grinding on him using the move that drove him absolutely insane. His head was spinning, his breath was caught in his throat and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold back from just bursting the rope and having his hands all over you.

But he resisted. He wanted nothing more than to be your good boy, taking whatever you gave him.

“That’s my good boy,” you moaned. Exactly the words he wanted to hear. Your movements slowed, allowing him to feel every pulse of your pussy. He could feel your juices slide down his shaft making his head all foggy.

“Please,” he whimpered, tears pricking his eyes, “I really need to cum.”

Your fingers dug into his shoulders as you held on to him, leaning forward to keep your rhythm steady and relentless. His breathing turned ragged, eyes squeezed shut, and he barely held on as you bounced, picking up the pace just as he began to tremble beneath you.

“Please… I can’t—” he gasped, voice low and shaky, a hint of desperation cutting through.

But you just smirked, ignoring his pleas as you moved faster, chasing your own release. His hands gripped your waist, fingers flexing as he tried to keep himself grounded.

“You’re fine,” you whispered against his ear, letting your lips brush his skin. “Just a little longer.”

He whimpered at that, his hands tightening, but he didn’t dare stop you, too captivated and too close to deny you anything. The sensation built until you finally tensed, gasping his name softly as your own release washed over you.

Nicholas was close, barely holding on as he whispered, “Please… please… can I—”

“Go ahead,” you murmured, stilling just enough to give him that last bit of control, and he let go, his eyes closing as he got lost into his own release inside you just as you did, his relief echoing in his voice as he whispered your name.

Nicholas’ voice was barely a whisper, his words pouring out between heavy breaths. “Thank you baby, thank you,” he said frantically, as if he couldn’t say it enough. His wrists, now free from the restraints, flexed as he looked up at you with a mixture of awe and relief.

“Can I, um, can I touch you now?” he asked softly, almost hesitant. You tilted your head, pretending to consider, then gave a small nod.

“I guess you’ve earned it,” you teased, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

Without another word, his hands cupped your cheeks, rough and warm, pulling you close as he kissed you, slow and full of gratitude. His fingers brushed along your skin like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed you to know how much he meant every word he was about to say.

“I’m sorry about—everything with my ex today. I’ll make sure it never happens again,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours. He took a shaky breath. “You’re the only woman I’ve ever loved, you know that?”

The weight of his confession hung between you, and you felt your heart skip, unable to hide the surprise in your eyes. For a second, all you could do was look at him, his gaze so open, so vulnerable. Finally, you reached up, your hands resting over his.

“I love you too,” you whispered, the words coming easily, like they’d always been there. His face softened, and he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you as if he’d never let go.

You lay there together, tangled up in each other, his hands trailing gentle patterns along your back as your fingers combed through his hair. The quiet was warm, comforting, filled with a new closeness as you held each other, both savoring the rare, unguarded moment.

[boundbyeclipse]

hiii can you write smut number 5 with current James????

black velvet

genre : smut

word count : 1227

tags : current!james, female!reader, age difference (not specified how much), reader is a tattoo artist, a little rough james, semi-public sex (i think?), that’s about it

from the prompt list : 5. “don’t cover your mouth. i wanna hear you”

a/n : sooo i saw a photo of James getting a tattoo done and i thought hey, that’s a perfect idea for one of my requests! it really stuck to me and i had to write it. i really hope you enjoy this one x

‘Poison’ by Alice Cooper played in the background after you returned from your dinner break at work. You hummed along to the lyrics while lightly bopping your head to the beat. You absolutely loved rock and metal, so the playlist used at work always consisted of bands who did exactly those genres. It always gave you motivation and boosts for some energy, no matter if you were sad, angry or irritated.

While preparing for your next client, the sound of the entrance door opening and closing reached your ears. Technically, it was just a bit too early to show up, but hey, this one’s a regular and you didn’t mind at all.

“Hey there” you greeted him while putting some black gloves on your hands.

“Hey. Mind me showing up before I should?”

You gave him a warm smile, shaking your head left to right.

“Nope. You can come take a seat actually, I’ll go print out the tattoo and get more ink”

“Alright” James smiled back, hanging his jacket on the rack and making his way to the big, comfortable leather chair. He watched you walking around and you didn’t quite pay any attention to him, at least at first. Or, you just didn’t want to.

No matter how many times you’ve done tattoos on this man in the past few years, there has always been some sort of a tension between you both. It wasn’t anything like what you’ve had before with other men. They might have complimented you, made you smile, even blush, but none of them put you in such a vulnerable position with their presence alone. And there have been many times where his eyes would pierce right through you in the middle of getting his skin drawn on, creating the impression of him wanting to do some things to you. The lust was purely emitting from him the whole time. And you cannot forget about those moments when his fingertips would brush against your skin, making you shiver and think of scenarios in your head that were not so innocent. Sure, he was much older than you, but that didn’t stop either of you from craving each other every time.

Not too long after, you were already seated next to James, with his hand extended out as you were drawing lines on his skin.

My, oh my, did those large hands of his drove you insane.

“You got any more people coming after me?” he suddenly asked, his blue eyes hinting at something.

“Nope, you are the last one today. Puts my mind at ease knowing my last client is a regular. No need to overthink”

One side of his mouth curved up into a small smirk.

“Are you sure your mind is at ease? Because I can feel you’re all tensed up”

You swallowed and bit your lower lip hard after he said that. Trying to hide your growing frustration, you giggled.

“Maybe I am, I’ve been here since seven in the morning, you know”

He cocked an eyebrow up, not quite believing what you were saying. James could clearly see how you bit your lip, adjusted in your seat and giggled due to getting thrown back by his comment.

“It’s kind of easy to tell that it’s not because of the work. You don’t need to hide it”

Your breath hitched in your throat, and your body froze for a moment before you looked up at him and asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you secretly think about all the possible ways I could use my hands on you,” you could not believe what he just said, but it was totally true, “it’s written all over your face. Even your body language gives it away with how you shake, squirm in your seat, how you breathe heavier when I’m around. I know you think of me”

“James, don’t-“

“Just finish the tattoo first, then you can explain yourself”

Not even ten minutes later, you had your body pinned against the door of your break room, with no way to escape the tall man who hovered over you. His hands roamed your body while he kissed your neck, sucking on the sensitive spots to make you even weaker. The way he held you by your hip against the door made you so vulnerable and so turned on, that you could not help but moan into the heated kiss.

With one swift move, James opened the door behind you and the both of you walked backwards, still all over each other until the back of your calves hit the lounge couch that was in the room. James helped you with taking your shirt off, leaving you in a black lace bra. You sat down and watched James from below, eyes full of desperation and need, looking right into his own. He removed his shirt and tossed it away, unbuckling his jeans and unzipping them, then hovering above you as he laid you down slowly, but with rough kisses and a tight grip on your waist.

Your hand reached into his jeans and you cupped him through the fabric of his underwear, giving it a couple squeezes as James groaned in response. He was big, thick and hard, and you could feel yourself getting so wet that it started to hurt. You really needed him.

With no clothes left on your bodies, he was now inside you, moving his hips as he watched your face, loving the way your eyes rolled back with each thrust. The way your back arched, your naked bodies touching against each other, it put you in such a trance. Every second of it - you just loved.

With your moans becoming louder, you felt a little embarrassed, and your hand found its way to your mouth to silence yourself. But James wasn’t going to let you hide.

“Don’t cover your mouth. I wanna hear you”

Carefully, he took your hand and now had both of your hands pinned above your head. Your moans filled the room as you wrapped your legs around his waist, wanting to feel every single inch of his length in you. Almost to the point where you could barely take it.

“I can’t- I can’t take it”

“Yes, you can. Just hang on for a little bit more for me, okay?”

You gave him a nod in response, eyes watery and lips parted as you breathed heavily, your high hitting you right then and there. It happened so quickly, that you could not even tell James that you were close.

Another moan slipped out of his mouth as you coated him in your juices, your walls pulsing whilst he was still inside you, able to feel everything.

“Almost there” he told you as he gave you his final thrusts before pulling out and cumming on your stomach. Both of you were panting, with small beads of sweat on your foreheads and hair all messed up. But as soon as you got your breathing back to normal, it was time to clean up and go home. Though, James just wasn’t quite keen on leaving you so soon.

“I’ll give you a ride back home, so don’t worry about taking a bus in this weather” he gave you a warm smile as he put his jacket on and waited for you at the entrance door.

[yourmoonie]

DEALING WITH DOUBTS

Intro:

When doubts, fears, or anxiety arise, don’t fight with them or think that it is a dead-end. Instead, acknowledge them with gratitude. Recognize that fears are trying to protect you, doubts can motivate growth, and impatience signals your eagerness for good things. Invite your fears to wonder, -> "What if success is close?" Let doubts challenge limits and turn impatience into excitement for what’s coming. Rather than resisting old beliefs, shift your view on these emotions, give them a new purpose, and trust your intuition.

1. Shifting your POV

Instead of seeing doubts as barriers, let’s view them as part of our growth. When doubts pop up, it's because something within us wants reassurance or clarity. It’s a signal, not a dead-end. Now stay with me

2. UNDERSTANDING WHY IT APPEARS

Doubts don’t just appear for no reason; they’re often tied to past experiences or beliefs

Doubt -> an underlying cause -> why It appears -> how to reframe It -> moving forward

3. DONT FIGHT WITH YOURSELF

Doubts can actually help us to question, refine, & build more solid beliefs

Each doubt that you move through gives you a deeper trust in yourself. Like a good friend who’s honest with you, doubts can be useful if you listen, learn, and grow beyond them

The example:

✨️THE DOUBT: What if I am not good enough to get my SP's attention

✨️ LISTEN: Hear the doubt as f it's a friend being honest, pointing out where you might feel insecure.

✨️ LEARN: Ask yourself why this feeling exists. Maybe it's tied to a belief about self-worth.

✨️ GROW BEYOND: Use this awareness to focus on building confidence and self-love, reminding yourself that you're worthy and valuable just as you are

✨️ RESULT: Instead of letting the doubt hold you back, you're using it as a push to strengthen your self-image

4. PICK & CHOOSE

After acknowledging & understanding doubts, it’s time to release them

Imagine each doubt as a passing cloud

You notice it, see what it’s about, and then watch it drift away. You don’t have to cling to every thought

Choose which ones you want to keep

5. REMIND YOURSELF OF YOUR TRUTH

When a doubt comes up, gently remind yourself of your truth

Let’s say you doubt if you’re capable of achieving your desire

You could say, “I trust my ability to manifest & I trust myself”

It’s not about forcing the doubt away but bringing yourself back to your inner belief

6. Appreciating them & letting them go

The next time you catch yourself doubting, try saying, “Thank you for showing me what I need to work on.” This way, you honor the doubt but also make a conscious decision to not hold onto it. Acknowledging it without fear takes away its power over you

7. TODAY'S LESSONS

So today, we learned to:

✅️ To acknowledge the doubts without fearing them

✅️ Appreciate what they teach us

✅️ Letting them go and refocusing on the truth

Doubts don’t have to control you. They can be gentle reminders to dig deeper into your own strength

Trust that you’re on the right path

Some ground techniques for you:

Mindfulness Exercise (My favorite):

When doubts or overwhelm arise, bring yourself back to the present moment. Count your fingers, look around, and connect with your surroundings. Remind yourself that you exist in this moment, and that the thoughts passing through your mind aren’t truly you. Let these thoughts drift by and rest in the knowing that everything is working out in your favor.

Energetic Grounding Exercise (Another favorite):

✨ Start by sitting comfortably in a chair. Visualize roots, cords, or chains extending from your feet deep into the earth and from your base chakra. Feel as though you’re solidly anchored, like a tripod.

✨ Then, imagine a rope or pillar of light entering your crown chakra. This light can be any color that feels healing and powerful for you. See it flow through your body, traveling from your head to your feet, passing through each chakra.

✨ Declare out loud that you are grounded to the earth. Visualize toxins and negativity releasing through the roots into the soil, where they are transformed into energy. Allow the crown chakra connection to draw in healing energy that flows throughout your being.

This practice can help you feel centered, calm, and aligned with positive energy.

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 7/?)

112 ac

Alicents pov

I sit next to Myrielle in the royal box waiting for the tourney to start and for Rhaenyra to show. I have no idea how she gets away with all she does, if I did even half the things she’s done today I would be forced to be a Septa by my Father, only love and lust for the gods.

I sigh and look over at you and your friends smiling as you excitedly show them your new necklace, you had shown me it soon after so excited and only wanting to show me your new gift.

“Ali! Look! Look! Kepus gave this to me, don’t you think it’s pretty? Oh, I love it so much!” You say and I can’t help but notice you have seemingly had your hair fixed into a proper style. I’ve been needing to fix that, wonder who did. I think to myself. 

“Ah, let me see.” I say kneeling down so I can face you properly as I lift the garnet pendant watching as the rich red of the stone catches the light making it even more beautiful. “Lovely, a beautiful gift for a beautiful girl.” I say smiling when you beam with joy at the compliment.

“Mam– Ali do you have any jewelry that your family gave you that was a ancestirs?” You ask curiously as you play with the sapphire necklace around my neck. Your correction isn’t lost on me but I let you think I missed you almost calling me Mama.

It is moments like this one, where I know I am not alone in the feeling that I am your Mother. I may not have birthed you, nor carried you in my womb but you are my little girl.

“Ancestors,” I correct gently before I touch the necklace on my neck. “And yes, this used to be my Mother’s before she passed. I have many other necklaces, rings, bracelets, and earrings, that used to be hers.”

I know the moment you catch that my Mother is dead, I hae never told you nor have you most likely ever heard this fact so the tears that come to your eyes are not surprising. 

“Your Mama is dead? Is there any way to bring her back, so you can have her again?” You ask seemingly trying to find any way to take my pain away from her passing which seems to bring your young mind to necromancy. 

I can’t help but giggle at your young and innocent idea. “No, and besides she is in a better place, she is happy with the Stranger now, walking through fields of lilies and havig the sun kiss her skin at all times of day.”  I saw with a mournful smile. 

“Is the Stranger kind?” You ask wiping away your tears with the back of your dress sleeve. 

“Very kind.” I say before teaching you more about the seven and what each one is for and why they are important.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when I hear the King start his speech before the tourney starts. “Be welcome! I know many of you have traveled long leagues to be at these games. But I promise, you will not be disappointed–”

The King pauses when Rhaenyra tries to sneak in and take her seat. I suppress a scoff when she sits down smirking thinking she got away with something again, and to be fair she probably did with how the King bends to her will.

“When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories. And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news that I am happy to share, the Queen Aemma has begun her labors!” 

With that announcement the crowd erupts into applause and cheers, small folk and noble alike rejoicing at the future heir to be born. I turn to look at you and see you nervously biting ad chewing on you lower lip it is already getting bloody and chapped. I at times worry if my nervous habit with m fingers has led you to do the same only with your lips. I reach over to hold your hand comforting you the only way I can. you may not say it or show it, nor understand it, but I can tell you worry for the Queen and your future sibling.

“May the luck of the Seven shine on all combatants!” The King says finally finishing his speech witha sigh and sitting on his mock throne. 

I turn to look at you after you tugged on the sleeve of my dress. “Yes, darling?” 

“Where’s Kepus? He said he was going to be in the games, but I haven’t seen him yet.” You are confused as you search for your dear uncle, or should I say Kepus. 

“He will be out soon, but first we have to watch Ser Cole and Ser Aldwin Sarwyck joust.” I say gently smiling when you nod, you don’t seem to like this information but you also seem to understand.

You’ve never cared much for tourneys, finding them too long and too boring. And I can’t blame you, as soon as it gets entertaining it is determined you must not see such violence at your young age. So when Ser Cole unmounts Ser Aldwin you don't clap nor cheer as loud as the rest, only clapping as you know you must.

“Princess Rhaenys Targaryen! I would humbly ask for the favor of ‘The Queen Who Never Was’.” Lord Boremund Baratheon declares holding his jousting stick up to the balcony.

You can hear the chatter of the courtiers gossiping. Do they ever stop? Probably not. I think to myself scowling when I see one of them point to you and your friends giggling over lemon cakes and tea.

“Good fortune to you, cousin.” Princess Rhaenys says obviously not happy with he cousins behavior but putting on a good face.

The less things for this court of vipers to gossip about you, the better. Or that is at least what my father loves to tell me when I even think of running through teh halls. 

“I would gladly take it if I thought I needed it.” He says pompously like any true Baratheon would. 

I hear a pained gasp beside me and turn to see Myrielle looking up at her brother and the lady Cerelle Celtigar seeming to be holding hands and talking. I had heard they are now bethrothed and getting ready to marry in three moons. Such a quick wedding has raised eyebrows as to why they are wedding so quickly, I have yet to hear one that makes sense. 

“Are you alright, Myrielle?” I ask worried as to what has he nearly in tears. 

“Yes, yes, sorry I must have gotten something in my eyes.” She says clearly lying but I pretend to believe her for her sake. That is until I hear Rhaenyra scoff.

“Is that what is’s called when you almost lay with your brother? You know it’s wrong right, to want to fuck your brother or family? That is at least what the rumors say.” She says crudely. 

I turn back and see tears rolling down Myrielles cheeks, whether that be because of shame or rage I can not tell. I can’t believe Rhaenyra’s hypocrisy, she has always found the conquers marriage as beautiful, and yet she sits there berating a girl over a rumor? It must be this that pushes me to speak up, to try and take Rhaenyra down a peg. 

“As if you Targaryens have any room to talk. Were the conquers not brother and sisters, or had I read the history books wrong?” I ask with a smirk knowing I’ve backed her into a corner.

I can see Rhaenyra is ready to lash back when the King clears his throat and when we turn to look at him, he’s glaring at Rhaneyra making her slump back into her chair with a scowl upon her face.

I turn back to Myrielle who is smiling thankfully. “I do not know if this is true, but as far as I’m concerned it is only a rumor about the new lady of court.” I say squeezing her hand reasuringly, before turning back to watch as the Rouge Prince comes riding into the jousting ring. 

I can’t help but smile when you perk up at the sight of him, for if he can bring that smile of pure joy to your little face can he truly be that bad? 

I was so distracted by your excited chatter that you had finally been allowed to make a favor for a knight that I missed the way Myrielle and my eldest brother, Lorent, were staring at each other. If I had I would have noticed the blush on Myrielles face and the look of lust in my brother’s eyes.

“Who do you think he’ll pick?” You ask as you watch Prince Daemon moving his horse up and down the line of knights to choose from. When I see my brother Gwayne I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach put push it down and smile down at you,

“I have no idea, though they musat be a extraordinary knight to be choices for the Prin–.” I say only to stop when I see he picked the one person I hoped and silently prayed he wouldn’t, Gwyane.

“Who’s the one with the tower helmet?” You ask curiously as you lean into me on the seate we are sitting on.

You do this often, looking for my touch and comfort, besides the Prince I am the person you seek out the most.

“My brother.” I say fighting the urge to bite and pick at my cuticles. It is not for my sake but for yours for I will not let you gain such a harming habit because of me, because of my anixites. So I will push them down for your sake. 

“He must be a very good knight for Kepus to pick him.” You say in wonder. 

Or the son of the Prince’s greatest enemy. I think coldly.

I hold my breath as I watch the joust, my brother seems to have almost knocked the Prince off his horse. But on the next joust, the Prince leans his jousting stick downward so it trips the horse making the horse and my brother flip through the air landing with a resounding crash that makes everyone gasp. But I do not get much time to recoup until the Prince is in front of the balcony smirking up at us, or should I say, my father.

“Nicely done uncle.” Rhaenyra says with a smirk batting her eyes ar him. I have to fight the urge to slap her as she seems to forger my brother was just carried out of the tourney ring. 

“Thank you, Rhaenyra, now I am fairly certain I can win these games but what isn’t a little extra luck from the most beautiful maiden here?” He says smiling when you walk up with your friends smiling and waving at him.

“It would be my honor Uncle.” Rhaenyra says breathlessly getting ready to grab her favor when the Prince stops her.

“Not you, I meant the Realms Darling over here.” He says pointing his jousting stick towards you.

The look of pure joy crossing your face mixed with Rhaenyra’s look of betrayal and embarrassment almost made my brothers injury worth it, almost.

You run over to grab your favor only to run back and almost tripping and falling from your excitement, it’s a good thing I caught you or else you may have fallen off the balcony. 

“I made it myself!” You say excitedly as you reach over just barely able to reach before letting your wreath slide down.

“It is a lovely favor, it is sure to make me win.” He says making you giggle as he rides off.

“He’ll win with my favor right?” You ask as you hold my hand as we walk back to our seat.

“If he does not then he must have terrible luck because you are the luckiest girl in the world.” I say tickling your sides making you giggle uncontrollably. 

As the match goes on we don’t notice how slowly but surely the crowd seems to becomes mournful. It is only after your uncle lost his bout and whispered something to Ser Cole that we finally hear the news.

“Ali, please say it’s not true.” You plead tears rolling down your little face. 

When I can’t find a response you burst into tears and sob into my chest as I hold you close praying I could take all your pain and put it onto myself. But there is no gods, or magic that would let me so I sit there holding you and carrying you to your chambers as you cry your little heart out as any little girl should after losing their mother.

This is the necklace I see that Alicent was wearing, the one made of Sapphires from her mom.

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I be lost without you Girly!

Also Nymeria and Myrielle are my besties @sugutoad ocs so give her the love for these magical and beautiful characters!!

Taglist: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @baybaybear1 @sachaa-ff

[fatgirlonadate-blog]

21 Days - Day 15

Something inside of Xavier has shifted. You can’t quite define it or give it a name, but you can sense it, see it in every glance and feel it in every touch. He is not the same man he was yesterday.

What a difference a day can make.

The change isn't anything obvious—most things haven't changed at all. He is as shy and sweet and earnest as he has always been. He still blushes when you touch him, he still pouts when you tease him, and he is still playful and warm.

But the shadow behind his eyes, the hint of sadness in his smile, is disappearing. There is a growing certainty in him that was not there before, as if he has made a choice -some choice- and it has freed him in a way that seems to extend beyond just his secrets.

It's absurd, but you can't shake the thought that he chose you yesterday—that, somehow, you were always a choice he had to make. You don’t even know what the alternative might have been, but now, when he looks at you, the affection in his eyes feels complete, as if it’s here to stay.

Maybe his fevered promise not to leave again was truly meant for you after all. But that only raises more questions—had he been planning to leave you? And when did he leave the first time?

If you were the choice, then what was the other option?

He has remained tight lipped about this particular detail - unwilling to share any part of it. Other small secrets about his past have trickled out in fragments over the past 24 hours—never fully explained and always a little vague, but still unmistakably genuine. He’s trying to open up, and you’re trying your best not to push him. The rest will come later, you tell yourself.

In the meantime, you have a much more immediate issue to deal with.

There is no other way to put it - Xavier has become adorably, maddeningly clingy. He hasn’t let you stray more than an arm’s length since yesterday, and if he weren't so infuriatingly old fashioned, you're pretty sure he'd have slept with his cock buried deep inside you last night. Instead, he’d settled for holding you close, your back pressed firmly to his chest, with his hand resting possessively between your thighs.

It’s not exactly a bad thing; in fact, you love him even more like this. Every time he teleports to your side instead of walking, you can’t help but laugh, as if the seconds saved are simply too precious for him to waste. You marvel at the confidence in his touch now, the way he explored your body this morning like he owns it. And you fall even deeper for him every time he willingly gives you some crumb of information about who he really is.

You're savoring every moment with him and wish you could pause time and stay like this, just the two of you, forever. But you have a plan today - one that he cannot be a part of because it would spoil the surprise.

"Xavier," You whisper, trying to pull away from his insistent kisses, "I really do have to go soon. I have to check in with Jenna. In person this time. You know how she feels about being kept waiting."

Xavier acts as if he didn’t hear you, keeping you pinned firmly against the front door. His lips find a sensitive spot on your neck, biting gently before soothing it with a warm flick of his tongue. By now, he’s already delayed you at least ten minutes with those distracting, lingering kisses—reminders of just how skilled he is with his mouth.

"Xavier," you say more firmly.

He huffs as he pulls back just far enough for his blue eyes to lock onto yours, and the pout in them is nearly enough to break you.

"Why are you calling me that?" He asks, his forehead dropping to yours as he holds you to him, his nose rubbing against yours.

"What?"

"You usually call me Xav now. Or bunny."

A soft laugh escapes your lips at his confused, slightly pouty tone. "Xavier… Xav, I really need to—"

"But...," He protests, ducking his head to nuzzle his face in the crook of your neck again. "Let's go together. We're partners. I go where you go."

"It's supposed to be 24-hour surveillance, Xav. You know we both can't go. We already agreed on this yesterday."

"Yesterday was yesterday. Can't we make a new agreement today?"

The whine in his voice is killing you, but you really do want to surprise him. This birthday needs to be special; he deserves to feel special.

"Not this time, Xav."

Xavier's mouth trails down to your neck, each kiss sending a spark through you as his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you firmly against him. You have to bite your bottom lip to keep from moaning as you feel the insistent press of his hardness against you, even through the layers of clothing.

"Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider?" he murmurs, his voice a low, promising whisper.

His mouth is pure temptation against your skin, making it hard to remember why you need to leave. But there will be time for this later—hopefully endless time, forever, if you have anything to say about it.

"Bunny, please." You breathe out, threading your fingers through his hair to gently tug his greedy lips away from your skin. "I have to get going. I'm going to be late."

Xavier pulls back and fixes you with the saddest puppy dog eyes that have ever existed. "I can't believe you'd actually...leave me alone in this house."

"I'll make it up to you when I get home, I promise. And I won't be gone long."

Xavier sighs and nods as his arms tighten around your waist. He lets out a defeated groan, and mumbles, "How long?"

"It's just a few hours. I'll be back before you know it." You smile gently at the boyish sulk that has spread across his face as he continues to mope and press small kisses along your jaw.

Finally he gives in and lets out a heavy sigh that fans out along your skin. “Alright,” he grumbles, releasing his hold on your waist and taking a step back.

The small bit of distance clears your head just enough, and you shake it slightly, trying to dispel the lingering desire coursing through you. God, this man has you so wrapped around his finger that you can barely think straight.

You flash him a quick smile and turn to open the door, but pause, throwing him a puzzled look as he moves to follow you.

"Xav, you know you can’t come with me, right?" you say, a mix of amusement and exasperation in your voice.

He nods, pulling the door open and gesturing for you to go ahead, slipping an arm around your waist as he guides you through. "I know," he says with a grin. "I’m just escorting you to the station. I’m allowed to do that, aren’t I?"

It’s hard to believe that the man who used to vanish for days, even though he was just next door, now can’t imagine being apart from you for more than a few hours. It’s a clinginess you’re not used to—not from him, not from anyone—but oddly, it doesn’t bother you. There’s something deeply comforting about being wanted this much, and you can’t help but hope it never changes.

"I’ll miss you," you say, rising on your tiptoes to press a kiss to Xavier’s cheek as your train pulls into the station. "And try not to blow up the house while I’m gone, alright?"

He looks like he wants to argue, his hand tightening around yours, but then his eyes soften, and he gives you a gentle smile, slipping into his practiced, fake-husband role. “Come back soon, Mrs. Shen. Stay safe.”

He’s an exceptionally good fake husband. So convincing, in fact, that the word itself—fake—irritates you as it echoes in your mind on the train ride into the city. Your marriage to him is fake, yet with each passing day, it feels more real. The thought of it ending… It's almost unthinkable.

As soon as you step off the train and into the city, your plan for the day begins to unravel. The check-in with Jenna is mercifully brief, but her urgency to wrap up this mission leaves you tense and uneasy as you navigate sidewalks that are already too slick for comfort.

Snow in October is a rarity in Linkon, but here it is—thick, heavy flakes falling from the sky, dusting the sidewalks in a thin layer of white. It’s beautiful, but bitterly cold, and you're not dressed nearly warm enough for it.

You shiver as you wander from shop to shop, collecting things for Xavier’s birthday. A surprise party had crossed your mind, but inviting a bunch of fellow hunters to your covert mission apartment didn’t exactly scream discreet. So instead, you’ve opted for something simpler—something you hope he’ll love, even if it has the potential to set the place on fire.

But if it makes him happy? It just might be worth the risk.

The cake ingredients were easy enough to acquire, but the decorations were trickier, the items scattered throughout the city, rather than all together in one single shop. By the time you finish collecting everything for the perfect birthday cake, you're freezing and damp with snow. 

The warmth of the nearby cafe and the promise of something sweet was impossible to resist, and you sigh with relief as you dump your shopping bags onto a table and strip off your cold, damp jacket. A steaming cup of hot chocolate and three macarons later, your phone buzzes in your purse. You dig through the clutter of your wallet and keys to find your phone. It vibrates in your hand again as you pick it up and the screen glows with a notification:

(4) Voice Messages from Xavier

Xavier: Is it snowing there?

Xavier: We ran out of vinegar. Can you get some on your way home?

Xavier: Are you on your way back yet?

Xavier: Are you talking to someone outside right now?

You try not to smile at your phone like an idiot, but you fail as warmth floods through you at the sound of his voice. It’s amazing how a handful of words can make you feel so secure. There's something foreign but comforting about having someone care for you like this - someone waiting for you to get home. It's been a long time since you've had such a simple luxury, and you hadn't realized how much you've missed it.

You: I have to stop and pick up a few more things. But I'll be home soon.

Xavier: What do you want for dinner?

You're contemplating the least disastrous option as footsteps approach your table, and you glance up just in time to see a familiar face.

"Fancy meeting you here, miss bodyguard. There are easier ways to find me, you know. You don't have to stalk me." Rafayel smirks.

He slides into the chair across from you, meeting your wide-eyed gaze as he casually plucks a green macaron from your plate and takes a bite.

Has he always looked like that? you wonder as he flashes you a playful, disarming smile.

Seeing Rafayel is like looking at a masterpiece—he’s almost too perfect, so striking it’s hard to believe he’s real. You thought you’d grown used to his looks ages ago, that you had built up a certain immunity to it. But a few weeks apart have undone that, leaving you vulnerable to his effortless charm again.

Xavier is undeniably handsome, but Rafayel—even dressed simply in a sweater and dark pants—is goddamned majestic.

"Raf! Hey! Uh, what...what are you doing here?" You manage, surprised.

He's wearing his signature look of lazy amusement. His inky purple hair is slightly damp from snow, and he runs a hand through it as he takes another bite of your dessert.

"What do you mean? I come here all of the time. Shouldn't I be asking you that question? You're supposed to be locked away somewhere trying to catch a bad guy, yeah?"

"Oh, shut up. I haven't been locked away; the mission is just taking a while. I came into town today for a mission update." You say, and wave toward your bags, "and some shopping."

His eyes flick toward your bags, narrowing on the pastel letters spelling 'Happy Birthday' across the card that's peeking out.

"Mission update, hm? Interesting," he drawls as he pops the remaining bit of macaron in his mouth. "I'm surprised you escaped your tower, your highness. You haven't really bothered to respond to my texts for the past week. I was starting to think you'd been captured or that you got possessed by Wanderers or something."

"Uh," you stammer, quickly sliding another bag over the one he's eyeing, shifting awkwardly in your chair. "Sorry about that. I’ve just been... really busy."

Though his tone is playful, there's a hint of hurt beneath it that tugs at your heart, just as it always does. He’d deny it until he was blue in the face, but you know he can’t stand feeling ignored—and it sucks to know you're the reason for it this time.

He shrugs and leans back, draping his arms across the back of his chair as he casually crosses an ankle over his knee. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Secret missions and saving the world and whatever. Same as always."

The tired sound of resignation in his voice makes your smile falter, and you can only guess at what's really going on behind those galaxy eyes of his.

After countless late-night phone calls, you used to wonder if there might be something real between you and Rafayel. He was a flirt—that much had been clear from the start—and you’d brushed off his advances, wary of reading too much into them. But sometimes, when it was just the two of you, when the flirting grew a little more heated or the light touches became bolder and hungrier, you were almost certain there was something more. That he felt it, too.

But he never took it further, and the moment would fade as if it had never happened at all.

It doesn’t matter now, you remind yourself, tearing your gaze away to stare out the window. The sky has darkened, snow falling steadily against the glass, and your train will be leaving soon. Whatever might have been between you is just a memory now—one you are scared to dwell on any longer.

"We'll catch up when my mission is over, okay?" You swear, rushing the words as you stand up and shove your jacket on, reaching for the bags on the floor. "I'll come over, you can tell me all about your newest exhibit, and we'll make fun of Thomas together. I pinky promise."

"What?" His eyes widen, and he quickly stands, reaching out to still your hand as you go for another bag. "You’re leaving already? You just got here."

"Raf—" You sigh, guilt gnawing at you for more than one reason. Xavier is waiting. "I really do have to go. My train leaves soon."

His grip tightens around your wrist, his warm hand almost scorching hot as he stares at you with a rare flash of desperation in his eyes. It makes him look vulnerable for just a fraction of a moment, and something inside you tightens, torn between the urge to ease the ache you've caused in him and the need to put distance between yourself and old feelings you’d rather not think about.

"Let me walk you to your stop then," he says, his tone light and easy, but he's still holding your hand prisoner. His suggestion isn’t really a suggestion—it’s more of a demand.

"Fine," You say, rolling your eyes dramatically even as a smile forces its way onto your face. "But make yourself useful. Help me carry this stuff."

Rafayel grins and lets go of your wrist, bending to scoop up most of the bags. "Jeez, these are pretty heavy. I better get some kind of awesome reward for all of this labor."

A chill wind and swirling snowflakes greet you as you step out of the café, making you mutter a curse under your breath. If you’d known it was going to snow, you’d have worn a real coat.

"I hate snow," you grumble as you fall into step beside him.

"What do you mean?" he grins, bumping your hip with his. "Snow is like magic. Look around!" 

He gestures to the snow-dusted trees and buildings blanketed in white. "Each flake is unique, perfect in its own way, turning everything ordinary into something miraculous, if only for a moment. And...it also looks really pretty in your hair."

His enthusiasm is infectious, and his words make you feel warm despite the chill wind cutting through the thin material of your jacket. Maybe you don’t actually hate snow after all.

The walk to the station goes by in a blur as you catch up on the last two weeks: gossiping neighbors, Thomas, how cold the city is this year, his new exhibition, your boring surveillance work—keeping it light and casual.

It almost feels like nothing has changed—the two of you chatting, him cracking jokes and teasing you to get a reaction, and the way your stomach flutters every time he brushes against you. He doesn’t do that by accident; you're sure of it.

A pang of longing hits as you realize just how much you’ve missed this. Despite how he gets under your skin like no one else, his friendship means more than you’d ever care to admit. 

Yes, he drives you crazy, and your feelings for him are confusing—but he’s always had this way of making the world seem brighter, lighter, and somehow more beautiful than you could ever see it on your own.

"It's so cold. I’m frozen solid," you declare, setting your bags down on the bench outside the train station. You’re about ten minutes early, and the air is only getting colder. Your fingers sting with the chill, and you blow on them in a vain attempt to warm up.

Rafayel sets the rest of the bags beside yours with a chuckle, shaking his head, "You're right, it is cold. Too cold for my delicate hands." He pouts, his brows knitting together as he exaggerates a shiver and opens his arms wide. “Hold me.”

"Raf..." You laugh, amused and exasperated.

"Come on, cutie. Don't you know how body heat works?" He quirks a brow, stepping toward you. "You wouldn't let me freeze to death, would you?"

His smile is dazzling, effortlessly charming, and completely irresistible—the kind that melts your resolve into a mushy mess. It’s the sort of smile that can't be refused.

You reluctantly return his smile, already mostly deaf to the alarm bells ringing in your ears, and step into his embrace. “Okay, okay. Just for a little while.”

Rafayel laughs, a warm sound rumbling through his chest as he wraps one arm tightly around you, pulling you close. With his other hand, he tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, his cold fingers brushing gently over your cheek and neck. The sharp, clean scent of him—citrus and sea salt—fills your senses as you lean into him, soaking in his warmth.

The alarm in the back of your mind grows louder, more frantic, the closer you get. Yet the soft thrum of his heartbeat, syncing with yours, drowns it out, and the warmth of his breath against your skin is enough to silence the knot of warning you feel in your stomach. The familiar scent that clings to him wraps around you like a shield, blocking out even the smallest of doubts.

"Hold still," he says softly, his fingers threading through your hair as he gently combs it out. "You've got snowflakes in your hair."

A sarcastic remark hovers on the tip of your tongue—of course you have snowflakes in your hair, he does too, it's snowing—but the warmth in his eyes as he strokes your hair holds you silent. His fingers are gentle as he carefully smooths your hair back even as more snowflakes continue to fall, and he leans even closer to see his task clearly in the dim evening light.

Your cheeks flush as he moves closer, leaning into you, and a familiar warmth builds inside of you, making it hard to breathe evenly. You turn your head away from his hand, but he frowns and gently cups your cheek, tilting your face up to his.

"Hey," he scolds gently, "I'm not done. Don't move."

But his hand doesn’t return to your hair. Instead, he gently caresses your reddening cheek, a soft smile spreading across his face. "You're being pretty shy," he murmurs.

And you are. No sarcastic remarks or witty comebacks come to mind, not with the way he’s pressed against you, the softness of his touch on your cheek, and with his face so close to yours. The only sound you can make is a quiet hum that doesn't mean anything at all.

His eyes roam from your cheek to your ears and down to your neck, and he slides his hand along the same path. "Hmm. Your cheeks, and your ears, and even your neck...are all so cold. Do you want me to help warm you up?"

It’s not just warmth in his eyes anymore; it’s heat, and your stomach flips as he drops the tone of his voice to a low purr. The feel of his warm breath against the side of your neck makes your pulse quicken and your own breath catches in your throat.

"Is it working?" He whispers, his lips brushing against your skin as he speaks.

You nod, barely breathing, as the heat that has built inside of you threatens to ignite into a blaze, your body trembling as you press against him.

“What about here?” Rafayel asks, shifting to the other side of your neck. His warm breath caresses your cool skin before he nuzzles close, trailing slow, lingering kisses from your ear to your neck.

He’s never kissed you before; of that, you’re certain. Yet somehow, in this moment, it’s as if you’re reliving a memory. His warmth, his scent, his touch, the way his body presses against yours—it feels natural, achingly familiar, as if you’ve known it all along. You could lose yourself here, drown in the sensation, and never surface again.

You’re trembling, but not from the cold, as Rafayel pulls back, his hands gently cupping your face. “You’re so quiet,” he says, his voice laced with curiosity. “I haven't the slightest idea of what’s going on in that head of yours. Have my awesome heating skills truly rendered you speechless?”

All you can manage is a shaky laugh, more like a breathless gasp, unable to form a single coherent word as a wave of déjà vu hits you, overwhelming and intense.

"Looking at my bodyguard..." He pauses, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. "I can't tell if she's happy right now..." Leaning in, he brushes a soft kiss against the corner of your lips, then locks eyes with you. "Or maybe she's not?"

You stare, wide-eyed, unable to break free from the grip of the dizzying familiarity of this all— frozen in place by how deeply, unexplainably right it all feels.

"Raf, I..." You trail off, lost for words, unsure of what you're trying to express, but knowing you have to say something. Anything. That you can't do this with him, or that you need more of him. Or that, sometimes, two things can be true.

Before you can untangle your thoughts or find the words to express your conflicted feelings, he silences you with a kiss. It’s gentle at first, tentative—his lips brushing softly against yours. Then the kiss deepens, his mouth pressing to yours with an intensity that feels raw, as if the longing comes from the depths of his soul.

You’re drowning now, clinging to him as if he’s your anchor amid the waves of emotion and memory crashing over you. For a moment, time and space collapse, and it feels like this has always been your life, as if this is just one second in a lifetime spent with him like this.

But the brush of his tongue against yours snaps you back to reality, and you tense in his arms, your hand moving to the back of his neck to gently pull him away.

"What?" he whispers, breaking the kiss as he rests his forehead against yours. "Do you want me to stop?"

His voice sounds so tender and hopeful that it breaks your heart a little, and your stomach twists with guilt as you lean away from his embrace.

In another life, you’d beg him to keep going. In another universe, you’d be his completely—mind, body, and soul. You can feel the way his heart calls your name.

But not this life; not in this universe. In all of the world, there is only one call your heart answers to, and it is Xavier's.

“Raf,” you whisper, your voice soft and aching, “I’m so sorry, but—”

"I know what you're going to say," Raf cuts you off before you even finish, hurt replacing the warmth in his eyes, "Sooo you don't have to say it."

He drops his hands from your face and steps back, and the cold wind that cuts through you is nothing compared to the burning ache flaring to life in your chest.

He runs a hand through his hair, shaking loose a few snowflakes, and lets out a bitter laugh. “I guess things with the ‘fake’ husband aren’t so fake anymore, yeah?”

"I love him," you admit, the words escaping before you can stop them, leaving you stunned. You’d never said it out loud before, never dared to voice what you felt. But now it’s out, and there's no taking it back.

Rafayel laughs again, a choked sound that gets stuck in his throat, and looks up at the sky as if searching for an answer there. After a moment, he groans softly before his eyes return to yours, "Oh, that intense, huh?"

You nod, silent, unwilling to say anything more for fear of deepening the hurt in his eyes. The few feet of space between you feel insurmountable, and you itch to close the distance, to reach out and comfort him somehow.

Rafayel sighs, his hand motioning toward the empty air, as if Xavier were standing here, too. "Is he... is he better than me?"

"No, Raf," You groan, the ache in your heart burning even brighter, "He's not better. It's just...different. I can't explain it."

Rafayel looks away again, his lips pressing together in a tight line, before turning back to you with an uncharacteristic seriousness in his eyes. "Just...promise you won't forget about me, okay?"

Tears sting your cheeks, and the hurt, desperate sound of his plea is all the proof you need to understand that a broken heart can keep breaking.

"Oh, Raf, I could never forget about you," you promise, stepping closer. You reach for his arm just as the train pulls into the station, the loudspeaker announcing its arrival.

"I won’t," you swear, ignoring the blaring sound. "Never."

He steps back from your outstretched fingers, and his voice and eyes harden as he replies, "You will. You always do."

The train stops, passengers streaming past, and you open your mouth, trying to reassure him—but no words come. A wave of uncertainty hits as his cryptic words echo in your mind, and you fail to make sense of them.

The option to reach for him, to pull him close and comfort him, is stolen from you as he turns around and starts walking back in the direction you came.

"Get on the train," he calls over his shoulder, "Don't keep Romeo waiting."

You hesitate, your fist clenching as your heart and mind fight for control. Watching him walk away feels like losing a part of yourself, though you can't quite understand why.

You board the train with tears in your eyes, and search through your purse for your phone. You send a quick message to Xavier to let him know you'll be there soon, and try to collect the pieces of your heart as the train speeds toward home.

Xavier chose you yesterday. And today, you chose him.

This star isn't going anywhere. 

[goldencherriess]

We visit the Garden Gnome Emporium.

Pairing: Percy Jackson x Fem! Reader

Summary: New dangers show in the horizons as Y/N navigates the beginnings of the her first ever quest.

Word count: 10k (oops!)

Warnings: angst (because apparently I can't stop writing it), a lot of eye contact. Glaring as a love language basically

Previous part II Series masterlist

Night came and went, bleeding into the morning, letting the sun shine down on Camp Half-Blood. Y/N woke up early, well aware of what this morning brought. She put her hair up, tied her shoelaces into perfect bows, made her bed (no wrinkles showed on the marble white sheets) and stepped into the crisp morning air. She looked up towards the clear blue sky, a smile stretching on her lips. A horn announced the beginning of the day and she marched towards the pavilion, her head held high. 

The Greek columns touched the sky, the campfire swaying slightly in the breeze. She entered the pavilion, her eyes meeting Annabeth’s. Other demigods stood in a circle and Y/N recognized Percy’s golden hair. He was speaking quietly to Chiron, mr. D standing proudly beside them, arms crossed. 

She stopped near Annabeth, not taking her gaze off the pair. “Good morning,” she saluted. 

“Good morning, Y/N. Today’s the day,” Annabeth’s sure voice said. 

Y/N nodded, shifting her gaze towards her friend. A small smile bloomed on her lips. “Yes, it is.”

Annabeth smiled back, before Chiron’s voice boomed, his hands settling on his hips. “The Oracle has confirmed what we expected, that this quest will proceed toward the Underworld, where you will confront the god who has rebelled against his brothers. Hades.” Y/N turned to look at the centaur, straightening her back, her face devoid of any emotion. “The entrance to Hades’s domain lies under the city of Los Angeles.” Chiron looked down at Percy. “This is where you will journey to. Time is short.” He moved his gaze to the demigods. “I have selected our most compelling candidates, from which you will choose three to join you on this quest and ensure that we succeed.”

Percy’s gaze settled on Athena’s daughter. “Annabeth.” His ocean blue eyes latched onto Y/N’s and she raised her chin. “And Y/N.” 

“Customarily, one waits to at least hear a name or two before choosing. Are you sure you don’t wanna hear more?” asked Chiron, looking at Percy, the grey in his hair and eyebrows only enhancing the warm wisdom in his eyes.

Y/N could feel Annabeth shift her weight. She looked at her from the corner of her eyes. Someone who didn’t know Annabeth would have been fooled by her determined stance and stone-like eyes. But Y/N wasn’t fooled, she knew her friend too well. She reached over and took hold of her hand, staring straight ahead at Percy and Chiron. Annabeth squeezed her hand, a way of saying “thanks”. She squeezed back. 

“This thing, Zeus’s master bolt, we need to get it back, right?” asked Percy as he looked up at the centaur. 

“Yes,” nodded Chiron. 

Percy raised an eyebrow. “And it’s gonna be hard to get, yes?” 

“Extraordinarily.”

“And if the mission required someone to push me down a flight of stairs for it to succeed… you’d want someone who won’t hesitate when they do it. And someone who would protect from the shadows, someone whose aim you’d trust to reach its target.” Percy’s gaze panned on Y/N. 

Chiron’s eyebrow raised, before he turned back to the demigods before him. “The first quest-mates shall be Annabeth Chase and Y/N L/N!”

 A smirk appeared on Y/N’s face and she squeezed Annabeth’s hand. The morning had brought the promise of a quest she wouldn’t dare fail. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Y/N didn’t have much to pack for the journey. She looked at the objects strewn across her bed and at the backpack Annabeth lent her, as she didn’t have one of her own. Her arrows were glistening in the sunshine rays and her bow was proudly bending on the sheets. She took hold of an arrow and touched the tip. It was sharp as a needle. 

Footsteps came up behind her and Luke’s voice cut the silence. “You got the quest you’ve wanted for so long.”

She turned around. The boy was kneeling down beside his bed, grunting as he took out a box from under it. “I know.”

Luke laughed. “Aren’t you proud? It seems you’ve made quite the impression on Percy.”

Y/N shrugged. “I don’t care.” She turned back around, stuffing the arrows in the backpack, hiding them from mortal eyes. The bow, though, didn’t fit. She would need to carry it around in plain sight. 

“Either way, you’ve got what you wanted. Somehow you always do.” A warm hand settled on her shoulder. 

She turned to look at Luke, her first friend at camp. He was bearing a soft smile. “You’ll do great,” he added, nodding. 

Her lips curled in a small smile. “Reckon I won’t get into trouble?”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Oh, you definitely will. But try to keep it at minimum. Come back in a piece, alright? You’re like a sister to me.”

A warmth spread in her chest at his last words and her smile turned into a full blown grin. “I’ve always wanted an older brother.” She did. More often than not, during the school days and after her mother’s death, loneliness creeped in her life and she longed for someone to share her pain, to understand her sentiments and to soothe her worries. Her aunt tried her best and Y/N would remain forever grateful to her, but she could feel how her aunt was keeping things away from her, how she held secrets of her own, how she was keeping her in the dark. Maybe this was why she grew to fear it.

Y/N’s gaze slipped towards the box held in Luke’s hands. She nodded towards it. “What’s that?” 

“For Percy.”

“Am I not getting anything?” she replied, a note of envy seeping into her tone. 

“You can take care of yourself, I’d say. You don’t need some old Converse from me to kick ass.” Luke’s eyes twinkled and he ruffled Y/N’s hair. 

“Stop that!” she yelled, as she pushed his hands away and tried smoothing down her hair. 

A laugh escaped Luke’s lips. “Still bossy as ever, I see.”

Her eyebrows furrowed and she threw him a furious look, before turning back to packing. She had half a mind to take with her the yellow coat she arrived in at Camp Half-Blood, but she had outgrown it quite a few years ago. Still, she regarded the flashing, neon yellow of it, as it stayed hung on the back of her bed. 

“You alright?” asked Luke worriedly.

She sighed. “Yes.” She slinged the backpack on her shoulder, the sound of arrows clinking together reaching her ears. She took hold of her bow, her fingers clawing around the smooth wood, fitting like puzzle pieces. She squared her shoulders and she turned to meet Luke’s eyes. “I’m ready.” 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The pine tree stood tall in the wind, its leaves swaying gently. Y/N watched from afar how Annabeth said her goodbyes to Thalia, her hand on the tree’s bark. When Y/N first met Annabeth, she was green with envy at every mention of Thalia’s name. Thalia this, Thalia that. But after Annabeth slowly warmed up to her, Y/N saw the tree as what it really was. A sacrifice. An attempt to shelter those who were just like herself. She saw the tree’s beauty and she was thankful for it. It brought Annabeth to her (whose eyes seemed to follow her everywhere her first few days at camp. At some point, Y/N was fed up with it and confronted her about it. They slowly became friends). 

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, basking in the sunlight, feeling the wind’s caress on her cheek. 

“She’s really gonna miss that tree, huh?” Y/N heard Percy say from beside her. A scowl darkened her features, but she didn’t open her eyes, instead choosing to strain her ears for any bird sounds. She didn’t hear the eagle sing today. 

“When Annabeth first arrived here with Thalia and Luke, they were being chased by monsters,” replied Grover, a satyr with a friendly face. 

Y/N met him a few years back when she tried figuring out her place at camp and her talent. The Demeter children were trying to teach her how to tend to plants. She didn’t have the patience (and it seemed that she didn’t have the talent for it either), but Grover did. He often mingled with the Demeter children and he taught her to make a flower crown, before he put it on the mane of her hair with a warm smile, eyes wrinkling. 

“Agents of Hades. Sisters,” he continued. 

“Furies,” added Percy, nodding. “Mrs. Dodds?”

“Yes!”

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. “Who’s mrs. Dodds?”

“Our algebra teacher. Alecto,” explained Grover. 

She hummed in reply. 

“Thalia turned back to fight to buy her friends some time. Her satyr Protector tried to stop her, but she wouldn’t listen. So, at the last moment… Zeus intervened to save her life and… changed her form.” Grover’s voice shook. 

“The most powerful being in the universe's best idea to save his daughter’s life… was to turn her into a tree?” asked Percy, a note of doubt in his voice.

Y/N opened her eyes and turned to look at him. For some odd reason, the question irked her, flaring her up. “He did save her, in the end. And trees are a symbol of life. Not that you would understand.”

Percy’s eyebrows furrowed and he opened his mouth to retaliate, but Annabeth cut him off. “She was the bravest demigod I ever knew. She fought valiantly and she met a hero’s fate.”

“She met a pinecone’s fate,” replied Percy, pointing at the tree in the horizon. 

Y/N scoffed, turning her back on him, taking a few steps and coming beside Annabeth. She turned around. “You have no respect,” she stated, crossing her arms, bearing a wild look in her eyes. 

Percy met her gaze, confusion simmering in his ocean eyes. 

“Forbidden children are always in danger, even the strongest one, even Thalia. And you are not Thalia,” said Annabeth, her voice firm. 

“Forbidden children are a magnet for danger. Monsters,” added Y/N. “I’m guessing you don’t have a death wish.”

Percy shifted his weight. “No,” he mumbled, clearly annoyed. 

“Then, you’d better listen to us.”

“Do exactly as we say, and maybe you survive this,” said Annabeth. “Are we clear?” But she didn’t wait for a reply, as she turned on her heels, leaving for the border. 

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Are we clear?” she stressed, leaning forward.

Percy clenched his jaw. “Yes, ma'am.” 

She nodded, before turning around and catching up to Annabeth, bumping their shoulders. 

“Does she think she’s in charge?” she heard Percy ask Grover. She rolled her eyes.

“Who’d you think would be in charge?”

“I guess I assumed we’d do a show of hands or something.”

She scoffed lightly, before she passed the pine tree, her fingers softly caressing the bark. She threw a glance behind her shoulder, the sight of Camp Half-Blood reminding her of a home away from home. She smiled, before she jumped down, the unknown stretching before her eyes. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Y/N hadn’t missed the city. It looked the same as the day she left it: wild and untamed. She glanced outside the window, as she sat in the bus, towering skyscrapers passing by. She recognized many places. Like that one corner where she was almost bullied by kids twice her size just because she was different. And there’s that candy shop her aunt brought her to once after her first day at a different school than the one she was attending a week before. Her eyes narrowed. That one block seemed familiar. With a pang of heart, she realised it was the block her aunt lived in. If she still lived in it, and didn’t move away. 

She sighed, falling back into her seat. Annabeth was soundly asleep next to her, the chest rising and falling with every breath. Y/N took in her fluttering eyelashes, sweetly kissing her cheek, and Y/N figured Annabeth didn’t sleep the night before. She knew her friend too well. She knew that Annabeth always worried, always strategized, was always one step ahead. 

She tucked a stray strand of  hair  behind Annabeth’s ear, lightly putting her head on her shoulder, shifting more comfortably in the seat. 

The skyscrapers rolled by, until they were nothing but passing, flashing hills.

Her gaze caught Percy looking at them. He was trying to be discreet, Y/N could tell. “What?” she whispered, careful to not wake Annabeth up.

He only shook his head, before turning to look straight ahead. “Nothing,” he simply answered. A second later, he turned in his seat, towards Y/N. “You’re great friends,” he stated, nodding his head toward the sleeping form of Annabeth.

Y/N’s gaze slipped toward the girl. “Yeah, so?”

“Nothing. Just asking.”

Y/N’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you always this curious?”

“I’m not,” mumbled Percy, his ears turning slightly red.

“Yeah, you are. Not only do you always ask stupid things, but you also stare an awful lot. Did your mommy never taught you it’s not polite to stare?”

“I’m not staring!”

“Right, and I’m Zeus’ child,” she replied, sarcasm dripping down her tongue. “Just stop staring. It’s pissing me off. If you’ve got something to say, just come out and say it.”

Percy looked her in the eyes, his jaw clenching. “I don’t”

Y/N only nodded. “Great. I don’t either.” She turned her head to gaze out the window. The city was long gone and she let herself be whisked away by the green scenery.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

“There is no way this is what sacred smells like,” said Percy, turning to look at Annabeth and Y/N, as a rocker in his fifties came out of the smelling WC of the bus. Y/N scrunched up her nose, a waft of what she could nicely only describe as garbage passing by. 

“We’re soldiers on a mission. It’s not a vacation,” retorted Annabeth.

“Thank you for clearing that up. But if this is so important, why didn’t Chiron spring for plane tickets? This seems kind of low priority, doesn’t it?” Percy asked, shifting the gaze between his three companions. 

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed. “What? No one told you?” She moved her gaze onto Grover, who withdrew into himself. “You didn’t tell him?”

“Sorry, I assumed someone had told you,” replied Grover, eyes full of remorse.

“Tell me what?”

“Percy, it isn’t just the monsters who are gonna be trying to stop us. You’re a forbidden child,” explained Grover, tilting his head. “Zeus might decide to take a shot at you himself. The sky is his domain. We’d be serving you on a silver platter to try to travel through it.”

“And flying would be like an act of war, it would mean you’re defying him,” added Y/N. “And you do not want to defy the god of the skies and the king of Olympus.”

Percy searched her face, eyebrows furrowed and lips parted. “Yeah, no one mentioned that,” he eventually replied, his voice full of annoyance. 

The bus slowly pulled to a stop in a gas station, Y/N catching sight of far away trees and she was strongly reminded of the fresh air back when she was living with her mother in a cosy cabin. But that was years ago. 

“Okay, I’m gonna get us some snacks,” announced Annabeth, getting up from her seat and straightening her purple jacket. 

“I wanna come too,” said Y/N, getting up and dusting her pants. 

“I’ll come with you,” voiced Percy, trying to get up on his feet but being pushed back by Annabeth’s firm hands.

“No, you’ll stay right there.”

Percy’s face morphed into a look of disbelief. “What? And how come you’re letting her go, but not me?” he looked towards Y/N, before quickly moving his eyes back on Annabeth. 

“She has a name. And because I asked her,” piped in Y/N, eyebrows furrowing. She crossed her arms, the blood in her veins starting to boil. 

“Yeah, well, I asked her too. Didn’t seem to help,” furrowed Percy. 

“You’re staying here and that’s final.”

“Monsters can’t smell you through that, so that’s where we want you,” added Annabeth, nodding her head. 

Percy’s eyebrows twitched. “I wanna vote.” He briefly looked at Grover, who was worryingly watching the interaction, his gaze shifting back and forth as if he was at a game of tennis. “Who thinks that we should all go get to breathe fresh air and buy our own snacks?” he asked, gazing at Y/N, one eyebrow slightly arched. He deftly raised his hand. 

“There’s no voting,” Y/N and Annabeth said in unison. 

“Chips and sodas okay for you guys?” questioned Annabeth. 

“I don’t think you should just get to decide we don’t vote.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Annabeth voiced, sarcasm lacing her words.

“There’s no point in voting. I just said you’re not coming. Annie agrees,” replied Y/N, leaning forward, looking Percy in the eyes. Her blood was still boiling in her veins and her skin was hot and she knew she would soon reach her limit, before she’d start to erupt, much like a volcano would, but she kept her voice even and her face devoid of any emotion. 

Percy’s lips curled in disdain. “Of course she does! She agrees to whatever you say!” 

Y/N’s lips twitched. “She knows it’s for the better. You, on the other hand, don’t.”

“Okay. I wanna vote on whether you get to decide we don’t vote.”

Y/N’s frown only deepened and bolts thundered in her gaze, flashing. Percy met her eyes, a storm brewing in his ocean gaze. 

Annabeth sighed. “Grover, please, can you help your…” Her voice faltered as Grover started clapping slowly, smiling awkwardly  “...friend?”

Y/N swiftly moved her gaze onto him, confusion lacing her features. She blinked. 

“I really don’t wanna be a tiebreaker,” Grover said, taking all of them in, shaking his head. “I have a better idea.” His clapping increased in a quick rhythm. He opened his mouth and his voice rounded in swift sounds to sing. “Oh, golly, the road’s gettin’ bumpy ‘cause I got me some friends who just can’t get along.”

Y/N’s eyebrows raised, her lips parting. 

“Oh, dear! When the team’s gettin’ bumpy the trick to gettin’ through it is singin’ this song–”

“Dude, what are you doing?” asked Percy, his voice flat. 

Grover blinked, and he moved his gaze from Percy to Annabeth to Y/N, smiling slightly as if the answer was clear as day. “It’s the consensus song,” he simply answered. “Verse two encourages us to say nice things about each other.” 

Percy looked at Y/N, who was still bearing a confused look on her face. Her eyebrows did lower, though. 

“You get a few rounds in and you’d be amazed at how disagreements just kind of… fade away,” continued Grover, his voice faltering at Annabeth’s bored look on her face. 

Silence settled for a few seconds and Y/N briefly glanced at Percy, who was blinking and looking ahead at nothing in particular.

“Chips and sodas okay for you guys?” repeated Annabeth, her hand in her jacket’s pockets. 

“Whatever.”

“Yes, please.”

Y/N scoffed before she left Annabeth’s side, heading for the bus exit. The air was as fresh as remembered. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The sliding doors opened, making way for Y/N and Annabeth to enter the gas station. The cashier was a plump woman in her forties, her face empty of any emotion. She looked bored at best.

“Alright, let’s split up. I’ll get the chips, you get the sodas, okay?” said Y/N, looking around, body tensed. 

Annabeth nodded, before going in the direction of the candies. Y/N looked at her departing figure, before she passed the cashier and stopped in front of the snacks aisle. The refrigerators were humming behind her and she moved her gaze down the alley, trying to read the products. The letters were jumbling together, swirling in front of her eyes in a tangle of mess. She blinked and furrowed. She reached a hand out and took hold of a Lay’s chips bag. She whispered the letters. “La… le… lein?” She shook her head. “That didn’t sound right.” She sighed before she picked up three more identical bags and turned her head to search for Annabeth. She recognized her dark braided hair behind the candy aisle. A small smile blossomed on Y/N’s lips and she let her gaze slide away, taking in the shop around her. 

The smile fell off  her face when her eyes caught sight of a woman staring at her over the drinks aisle. She shifted her weight before she left for the cashier, turning to glance behind her shoulder. Annabeth was just coming beside her. “Don’t look now, but I think we’re being watched.”

Annabeth gave a subtle nod before she dumped all the candies and sodas on the cash register. The cashier raised her eyebrows before she started scanning the products. Athena’s daughter glanced behind her shoulder, as Y/N gave the chips bags to the blonde plump woman in front of her, who was suspiciously checking them both out. “Are you dears alone?” she asked. 

Y/N gritted her teeth. “No.”

“You were right,” Annabeth whispered to Y/N, from the corner of her mouth without looking at her. “Do you think it’s…?”

“Yes,” nodded Y/N, throwing the cashier a tight-lipped smile. 

“That would be 10 dollars,” announced the cashier. 

Y/N searched her pockets before she pulled out a green bill, the face of Alexander Hamilton greeting her. She slammed the money on the cash register, took the bag full of chips, candies and sodas and pulled Annabeth out the gas station. The sliding doors closed behind her with a whoosh sound.

They quickened their steps, Annabeth glancing behind her shoulder, a frown on her face. 

“Don’t panic,” Y/N voiced, looking at her, as they entered the bus. 

“I’m not panicking.” Annabeth stopped in the middle of the aisle. “You go ahead,” she said before she put on the Yankees cap, disappearing.

Y/N sighed, as she approached the boys. 

“Look, I’m not against the idea of consensus, I’m just not sure the song is doing what you think it is, is all,” she heard Percy say. She threw the bag onto his lap and he whipped his head around, his eyebrows furrowed. “Hey!”

She shushed him, waving her hand, and looking at the place where she knew Annabeth would be. She strained her ears, hoping to catch bits and pieces of anything that would alert her of the presence of monsters. 

“What are you doing?” asked Percy, closely watching her. 

Her eyes widened when she saw Annabeth reappear, a frantic look on her face. “Open the window,” she urged Percy, pushing him. 

“What?” 

“Just do as I say!”

Percy opened his mouth to retort, his ocean blue eyes darkening, but he was interrupted by Annabeth. “Guys, you need to open that window! Now!” 

“I don’t think these windows are supposed to–” replied Grover, panic overtaking his features once he saw a Fury getting up from her seat. “Oh, no.”

Y/N swore under her breath and she backed, taking hold of her bow. 

“Go, go, go, go, go!” Grover yelled, getting up and pushing Percy. 

Y/N took out an arrow, and she raised it, not taking her eyes off Alecto, as she slowly advanced towards them, her wings stretching menacingly. She heard the boys forcing the window open, the bus alarm filling the air. 

“Everyone, leave your belongings and exit the front of the bus,” the driver spoke up. 

Y/N inhaled, taking a step back as she made eye contact with the Fury. People got up from their seats, swarming the aisle and slowing down Alecto.  

“Y/N, Annabeth, let’s go!,” yelled Percy, touching Y/N’s arm. She shook his hold off, hearing shrieking. 

Another Fury flew in, breaking a window and turning her attention to Percy. 

“Hey!” Annabeth yelled, taking out her dagger. 

“For gods’ sake!” Y/N mumbled as she raised her bow and launched her arrow. It cut the air, before it targeted the Fury’s forehead at the same time the dagger stabbed her heart. The Fury gave out another shriek, her eyes turning glossy. She turned into an ashy dust and Y/N huffed. 

“We’re done here, let’s go!” said Annabeth, picking her dagger up and jumping down the open window. 

Y/N took hold of her fallen arrow. “Come on, Percy!” she yelled over shoulder, looking at the boy as he picked up the box she recognized as being Luke’s. He nodded, and she took it as a sign he would follow her out the window.

He did. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Birds were chirping and Y/N was happy to be immersed in nature once again. The wind was dancing through the tall pine trees and light was filtering through the deep green leaves. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine she was back home, at the cabin with her mother. But she was on a mission. And she couldn’t let herself be distracted. Not even by the slightest breeze or bird song. 

“Somewhere up ahead this turns into a satyr path,” voiced Grover from behind her. 

“What’s a satyr path?”

“It’s a road through the wilderness. Satyr explorers use them. Harder to track us.”

Y/N’s Converse scuffled, hitting a strayed, small rock. She watched as it rolled down the dusty path. 

“That’s great but if we stay in the wilderness, how are we gonna find a phone?”

She frowned at hearing Percy’s question. She turned to look at him. The blond was holding the box as it was the most sacred thing he’d ever get to hold, and envy’s claw squeezed her neck. 

“What do we need a phone for?” Annabeth voiced the question that was swimming in Y/N’s thoughts and mind. 

“So we can call camp,” stated Percy as if the answer was obvious and plain. 

“For what?” asked Y/N, stopping in her tracks. 

“To get help.”

“We’re not getting help,” she replied, resuming her walk. 

“We don’t need help. We’re fine,” added Annabeth. 

Percy scoffed. “We’re fine? We haven’t even gotten to Trenton, and we’re wandering through a forest. I didn’t even know they had forests in New Jersey, but we’ve found one. I would say we’re the opposite of fine.”

“It’s a very pretty forest, though,” mumbled Y/N, looking up at the towering, sheltering trees. 

On hearing this, Grover threw her a small smile.

“We were sent on a quest by the Oracle, by the gods,” Annabeth said, turning to look at Percy over her shoulder. “What’d you think, it would be easy? It’s supposed to be hard. That’s why only certain people are chosen. If we call camp, we’re basically saying it was a mistake to choose us.”

“I’m completely comfortable with that,” replied Percy, shrugging. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

Y/N scoffed. “We can’t afford to make mistakes. This is a one time only chance.”

Percy blinked, looking at her. He opened his mouth to reply, but Annabeth spoke up, stopping in the middle of the path and turning to look at him. “Why are you so afraid of who you are?”

“What?” frowned Percy.

Grover looked between them, inhaling. “You know, what’s interesting about this particular satyr path is it’s actually the one my Uncle Ferdinand took when he set out on his own quest.”

Percy ignored him, looking at Annabeth. “What was that supposed to mean, afraid of who I am? I’m not afraid.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. She was getting tired of his attitude. 

“Yes, you are,” emphasised Annabeth. “You aren’t just a kid. Just a kid doesn’t do what you did to Clarisse back at camp. Just a kid doesn’t have Hades sending top lieutenants to retrieve them. You know, you are a part of something so much bigger than we can understand right now. We have to move forward whether you like it or not, whether you want to or not.”

Percy shrugged. “You don’t want to call camp, fine. Then, at least let’s call your mom.”

Y/N uncrossed her arms, lips parting. She shifted her gaze onto Annabeth. She knew her friend well. All too well. She knew that right at this moment Percy had unleashed a storm upon Athena’s daughter. She knew that million thoughts were currently racing through her mind, swirling around and clouding her vision. She knew that she was holding herself back. She knew her friend very well, because they were mirror images of each other. Y/N worryingly searched her face and took a step closer to her.

Annabeth blinked several times in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“Athena? Your mother?” continued Percy, as if he was talking about the weather. “I’d call my father, but we aren’t exactly on speaking terms. You know, because of the lifelong neglect and all, but you and your mother seem close, So, why don’t we ask her for help?”

“Grover, will you explain to your friend that he needs to pull himself together?” fired off Annabeth, looking fixedly at Grover who shook his head, looking between them, lips parted. 

Percy’s face morphed into one of understanding. “You can’t ask her, can you?” There was an edge to his voice, one that cut deep. “When was the last time she talked to you?”

Y/N took a step forward. “Alright, cut it out. We’re losing precious time here.”

Percy’s gaze snapped to hers. “What about you?”

Her eyebrows arched, hiding behind her hairline. “What about me?”

“Miss Bossing-everyone-around, left and right. What about that?”

Her face fell and she scoffed. “I’m just trying to help, but if it bothers you that much, seaweed brain, maybe I should stop. Leave you to do the honours, but as far as I can see, you don’t even know where to start.”

“You did not just make this about me, we were talking about you,” furrowed Percy,

taking a step towards her. 

Y/N threw him a tight-lipped smile. She stepped towards him, meeting his gaze with furious eyes. “Really? I thought we were saying what was bothering us.”

“Grover,” sighed Annabeth, a plea for help.

Percy whipped his head to her. “I don’t know why you keep pulling him into this. He’s on my side.”

“What makes you think that?”

“He’s my Protector, it’s his job,” stated Percy, raising his eyebrows. 

“He was my Protector first!”

Y/N heard Grover sigh and she took a step back from Percy, turning around and settling on a log. 

“First?” flared up Percy. Her mouth twisted in disdain. “What do you mean first?”

Everyone turned to look at Grover, who shifted his weight and cowered beneath their furrowed gaze. “Very exciting, getting to walk in Uncle Ferdinand’s footsteps. Next best thing to getting to talk to him again”

Y/N swore under her breath, her gaze sliding away from the trio. Her blood was rushing through her veins like hot mercury. She had an itch in her heels, her leg jumping up and down. She raised her gaze upwards, catching the sight of the azure sky between the deep green leaves of the forest. 

“Thalia, Luke, and Annabeth had a satyr protector,” Percy slowly voiced. “That was you.” Then, his voice tensed. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Grover furrowed, sniffing the air curiously. “Do you guys smell that?”

Y/N glanced at him, slowly getting up. “Are you smelling something, Grov?”

“Grover, I’m not kidding–” 

“Neither am I. Just shush.”

Silence settled between them, heavily, induced with tension. Y/N glanced from the corner of her eyes at Percy, who was already looking at her, confusion lacing his features. 

“Hamburgers,” announced Grover, taking off. 

Leaves crunched under Y/N’s Converse as she rushed off after Grover. 

“Grover! What are you doing?” voiced Annabeth from behind her. 

“Somebody’s making hamburgers in the middle of nowhere, on a satyr path,” explained Grover, still confidently leading the way. Soon they came out onto a road, a clearing in the depth of the emerald forest. “Whoever it is… They’re from our world.” 

Y/N’s hand clenched around her bow, knuckles turning white. Her stomach churned. “I have a bad feeling about this,” she mumbled. 

Percy threw her a curious look before he continued on his way. 

Grey, gruesome statues stretched menacingly towards the skies, their mouths twisting in pain. Y/N’s lips parted at the sight. 

“Oh, come on,” exclaimed Annabeth from beside her. 

“What?” asked Percy from the other side, turning to look at Annabeth over Y/N’s head. 

The feeling in her stomach intensified and Y/N gripped her bow as if it were a lifeline. The carved wood was familiar at her touch. 

“Aunty Em has a garden full of petrified stone folks. Yeah, this is someone from our world, all right,” scoffed Annabeth. 

Y/N dodged an outstretched finger as she passed the petrified form of a bearded man. His eyes were bulging out of their sockets in fear and remorse and his mouth was open in a silent, neverending scream. She tore her eyes away, a shudder running down her spine. 

“Anyone wanna guess what Em is short for?”

“Medusa,” echoed Y/N as all of them stopped in front of towering petrified monsters. Her answer came as a breath. Short. Rapid. 

“Oh,” replied Grover in defeat and realisation. His face had fallen, regret painting his features.

Y/N took a step back, goosebumps chilling down her arms. 

“Let’s get out of here, please, while we still can,” voiced Annabeth, an urgency in her tone. 

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

They all turned around but stopped in their tracks at the sight of a furious Alecto. Her wings were outstretched and she rolled her shoulders, raising her chin. Y/N took out an arrow and she raised her bow, targeting her heart. She felt Percy shuffle beside her, handing Grover his box and taking out Riptide. 

“You should have accepted my offer when you had the chance,” said the Fury, looking at Annabeth and taking a step forward, her claws glinting in the sunlight. 

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She straightened her back, not taking her eyes off of the target, even if her mind was screaming at her to turn to look at Annie. To search her face for unsaid answers. 

“Offer? What offer is she talking about?” asked Percy. 

Tension filled silence laid heavy between them and Y/N counted her breaths, preparing herself to let the arrow fly through the air. Heels clicking on concrete cut the silence, a sure voice echoing soon after. “Not today, friends. Not on my doorstep.” 

Alecto hid her face in a raised wing, scarlet scales catching the sunlight, and Y/N didn’t need to turn around to know who was fast approaching. 

Annabeth exclaimed an “Oh, shoot,” before she turned around, hiding her gaze away, Grover doing the same. 

Y/N swore under her breath. Her hand gripped Percy’s elbow, forcing him to turn away. “Don’t you dare look at her, kelp head,” she whispered harshly, meeting his lowered gaze with furrowed eyebrows. He only nodded his head indistinctly.

“If you have something to resolve, why not come inside and I’ll help? Alecto? Will you be joining us?”

The Fury only turned her body away. 

“No, well I wouldn’t think you would.” A beat of silence. “She won’t bother you as long as you’re with me,” a honey dripped note seeped into her voice. 

Y/N slowly let her hand fall from Percy’s elbow. Her other hand was still clutching her bow and arrow. 

“But it isn’t as though she’ll leave either.” The voice raised in a venomous octave. “Not if it means reporting that she failed to retrieve the son of Poseidon.”

Y/N stiffened and she glanced at Percy. His eyebrows pinched together in confusion and he slightly turned on the spot, his gaze pinned to the ground.

“How did you–”

“A forbidden child has been claimed. How long did you think that secret would keep? It’s a pleasure to meet you, son of Poseidon. I’m Medusa.”

Percy swallowed thickly and risked a glance from the corner of his eye. Upon noticing this, Y/N took hold of his elbow once again. She was shaking her head in warning.

“Percy, don’t,” voiced Annabeth. “She’s a monster.”

“We all choose who we make our monsters, but right now, that one wants to tear you limb from limb…” Medusa replied in disdain. “And I’m offering you lunch. The choice is yours.” 

Heels clicking announced her departure. Y/N let her hand fall away from Percy’s elbow and she straightened her back, staring at the blonde’s profile with furrowed eyes. “You didn’t listen to me! I told you to not–”

“I think we can trust her,” Percy interrupted her, glancing at her before looking at the emerald trees surrounding them. 

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up and she felt her blood boil. 

“Dude!”

“What?”

“I can’t explain it, I just–” shrugged Percy, stumbling over his own words. He turned to look at Y/N, his gaze sincere. “My mom used to tell me her story. And the point was always that she isn’t what people think.”

Y/N opened her mouth to retaliate that they can’t take that risk now, not on this quest, not when she was on her way to find out who her father was, but her glare softened at Percy’s next words. 

“And I definitely trust my mom.”

She could relate to that. Even though she hadn’t felt the warm embrace of a mother in a long time. She closed her mouth and just stared back at him. 

“So I’m going in,” he continued, turning his gaze onto Annabeth and Grover. “You guys do what you want.” He looked one more time at Y/N before he turned to walk away, the sword weighing heavy in his hand. 

Grover stared at both of them, eyes wide as saucers before he left after Percy. 

“What are you–” Annabeth started to ask before her voice slowly died. She turned to look at Y/N, conflict written on her face. 

“We can’t leave them alone, Annie,” replied Y/N softly. “We came as a team, we’re leaving as a team.” She squared her shoulders and threw the bow and the arrow on her back. “And I also can't leave you alone either. So, are you coming? Or are we keeping Mrs. Alecto here company?”

Annabeth took in a breath and nodded her head. “I’m coming.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The bell chimed as Y/N opened the door and stepped into Aunty Em’s home. Immediately, a wave of sweetness enveloped her and her stomach grumbled at the sight of a filled table. She swallowed away her hunger. 

“Thanks for coming,” said Percy as his gaze found hers. She simply shrugged,her eyes roaming around the room. It strangely reminded her of a grandmother’s house. The kind that knitted and held mint drops in crystal, intricate bowls. Also the kind that was wealthy. She could tell by the antique carpet and the centuries old chandeliers.

“This isn’t the same for me as it is for you,” she heard Annabeth say.

“Why?”

Swift heels and a steady voice interrupted the conversation. “You’re concerned I would hold a grudge against you simply because you’re a daughter of Athena?”

Y/N closed her eyes and turned her head away. The sound of a liquid being poured in glasses reached her ears and a frail waft of lemonade tickled her nostrils. She tried to ignore her scratchy and dry throat. 

“You shouldn’t be,” continued Medusa as if she were talking about the weather. “We’re not our parents after all.”

Y/N frowned. Was she even like her father? She faintly remembered her mother saying she had the same eyes as him, but other than that, was she even her father’s daughter?

“And you and I might have more in common than you think.” 

She felt Annabeth stiffen beside her. She took her hand gently. A touch of reassurance. 

“Please, sit and eat.”

Y/N slowly opened her eyes and took in the sight of a thousand, fresh sweets. A glass was filled to the brim with lemonade and she had to tear her gaze away from it to not give in. She wasn’t sure if she could trust Medusa. She trusted Percy enough to follow him but her gut was telling her otherwise. She felt Annabeth squeeze her hand. She squeezed back. 

“So you’re not a monster, what are you then?” asked Percy as he took a seat at the table, chair scratching the wooden floor. 

“A survivor,” Medusa simply answered. 

A shiver ran down Y/N’s spine. 

“You must be a little more than that. There’s a Fury out there that seems terrified of you,” added Percy, while filling his plate. Y/N watched miserably as he started eating. 

Medusa inclined her head, hands laced. “Because she knows what I think of her.” She straightened her dress before she took a seat on a wooden carved chair. And by the squeak it gave out, Y/ could tell it was also old. If she wasn’t aware of whose house she was in, Y/N would have thought she just stepped into a museum or an antique shop. “I don’t like bullies. When one shows up on my doorstep, they end up spending a lot more time there than they planned for. The gift that gods gave me is that I cannot be bullied anymore.” Y/N could detect a small smile in Medusa’s words. She felt Annabeth’s hold on her faltering.

“What my mother did to you wasn’t a gift, it was a curse.”

A pause. “You are loyal to your mother.”

“Yes.”

“You stand by her?”

“Always.”

“You love her?” 

Annabeth took out her hand from Y/N’s and crossed her arms. “Of course I do.”

Medusa slowly nodded her head. “And so did I. So did I.”

Y/N shifted her weight and looked towards Grover who was stuffing his face with muffins. 

“Do you know the story of how I came to be this way?” inquired Medusa. Y/N felt as though she was once again in those stuffy classrooms, where other kids glared at the back of her head and where she never knew the answers to the questions addressed by the teachers (they always did seem to pick her in her least finest moments. Like that one time she saw an eagle perching itself on a wire and tilting its head at her, as if it knew her.)

“I do,” replied Grover, mouth full of food.

“Do you?”

The satyr blinked. “Do I?”

A bell tolled in the distance and that grumbling feeling in her stomach returned.

“Athena was everything to me,” started Medusa. The red on her lips was popping and she was speaking slowly. “I worshipped her, I prayed to her. I made offerings… She never answered. Not even an omen to suggest she appreciated my love. I wasn’t like you, sweetheart. I was you.”

“I think you’re in the wrong,” Y/N spoke up. It hurt speaking, her throat was too dry and the words came out scratched. 

Medusa moved her gaze on the girl. “Am I? How many times did your father show you a token of his love? Did he ever answer your prayers and offerings? Did he ever recognise you as his kin?”

Y/N remained silent. Her lips drew in a thin line and she exhaled through her nose. She could feel Percy’s stare at the side of her face. 

“I would have worshipped her that way for a lifetime… in silence,” Medusa continued as if she wasn’t interrupted just a moment ago. “But then one day, another god came, and he broke that silence. Your father. The Sea God told me that he loved me. I felt as though he saw me in a way I had never felt seen before.” Her words turned acid. “But then Athena declared that I had embarrassed her and I needed to be punished. Not him. Me. She decided that I would never be seen again by anyone who would live to tell the tale.”

“That isn’t what happened,” raged Annabeth. “My mother is just, always.”

“The gods want you to believe that, that they are infallible. But they only want what all bullies want. They want us to blame ourselves, for their own shortcomings.”

Y/N hated herself for finding mirrored truth in Medusa’s words, in bits and pieces of anger and broken trust. 

“That is not what happened. And you are a liar,” screamed Annabeth.

For a moment silence reigned between them and Y/N counted the seconds until someone spoke up. Ten. 

“Something’s burning,” said Medusa. 

Y/N sniffed the air. Nothing was burning. 

“Would you give me a hand in the kitchen? I think lunch is ready.” Receding footsteps echoed in the room. 

Percy turned his head to look at the girls. Annabeth shook her head. Y/N only glared at him, a clear sign that she wasn’t on board with what he was about to do. He blinked and followed the older woman into the kitchen. 

“He never listens,” sighed Y/N, staring after him.

“Grover…,” said Annabeth. The satyr gazed at her, a pastry sticking out of his mouth and crumbs falling down his chin.  “Get ready to run.”

“Or fight,” added Y/N, getting out her bow, determination glinting in her eyes.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

The dark always seemed to sharpen its claws everytime she was around, taunting her, as if it knew she was scared to find out what it was hiding. Doubt made a nest into her mind as she watched her Converse walking down the stone stairs and around the corner, following Percy. She blinked and furrowed against the thick blackness. The front of her sneakers caught onto a small rock and she tripped, her hand landing on Percy’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. He only nodded his head in response. 

Scorching fire travelled down the room, illuminating it whole. Percy turned around, coming face to face with a petrified victim, a woman who seemed to have begged for mercy in her last moments. Percy, startled, gasped and took a step back, bumping into Y/N.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. She didn’t answer. 

Thousands of statues stretched before them, losing themselves in the depth of the room. “Well, she definitely has a collection worth of envy in her basement,” said Y/N, sarcasm coating her words.

A door creaking and closing with a resounding slam alerted the group and Annabeth waved them over. “Come on.”

They ran through the labyrinth of statues, once in a while throwing a look over their shoulders. 

“There’s four of us and only one of her,” started Grover, his voice slightly wavering. “If we split up, she can’t be watching us all at once.”

Y/N shook her head. “She’s smarter than that.”

“I agree,” added Annabeth once they all came to a stop. “I don’t think it’d be that simple.”

“It could be,” replied Grover, sure of himself. “Here’s the plan. I’ll get in the air, I’ll draw her attention. As soon as you hear me say Maia, you guys–”  His voice got muffled by the sound of flipping wings and he was raised in the air. “Oh, boy! Okay! Um.. Off. Down.”

Y/N watched helplessly as Grover disappeared in the abyss of the basement, his whimpers and screams faltering. 

“So, we’re gonna need a new plan,” voiced Annabeth. 

“Yeah,” echoed Y/N.

“We are not our parents until we choose to be,” Medusa’s voice travelled to their ears, authoritative and powerful, a knife in the heavy silence. Y/N scrambled into a run, her Converse sliding against the stony floor. She settled behind the statue of a man with a back wide enough to hide her from petrifying eyes. Across from her, stood Percy, behind a crate, watching her with a fearful gaze. She raised a finger to her lips.  

“You three have chosen.”

She slowly took out her bow and arrow, her eyes catching sight of a stretching shadow. Hissing of snakes reached her ears and she raised her bow. 

“A daughter of a self-righteous mother, who chose self-righteousness for herself.”

She gritted her teeth and squeezed her eyes shut..

“A daughter of a stand-by father, who chose to remain deaf to the cries of the innocent.”

A familiar fire travelled through her veins, bringing her to a boiling point. She scowled. 

“And you, you could have shown your father what it means to stand up for someone you love. You could choose to save your mother, instead of doing your father’s bidding. If neither of you will help teach these lessons, perhaps you should be the lessons.”

Heels clicking alerted Y/N that Medusa was getting closer. She could hear the snakes better now. 

“When I ship your statues to Olympus… maybe that will get my point across even better.”

“You won’t,” Y/N’s voice boomed.

“The unclaimed one. Pity. I understand you, child. You’re forgotten, just like me,” Medusa’s voice echoed. 

“You understand nothing. You claim to know me, but you don’t.”

“Come out. Let’s have a look at you.”

Y/N came out from behind the statue with her head held high, bow clenched in her hands and an arrow raised. Her feet were unsure, though. It felt as though she was walking on thin air. 

Heels clicked and Y/N took a step back. She had to maintain a distance in order to launch her arrow. Her ears strained. From her left, she could hear Percy taking out his sword. 

“Don’t I? We’re the same, you and I. I feel your envy and fury. And I know how much you long after your father, how much you miss your dear mother. But I can help you. I can soften your pain. Open your eyes, child. Let me see your eyes. Let me see your father’s eyes.” 

She almost complied, like a lost child on the first day of school. The hold on her bow slightly weakened and she felt the pain she always buried deep inside her, the one she had lived with since her mother took her last breath on a hospital bed. She wanted it gone. Erased. But then she remembered the promise she had made to her mother on her last day, she remembered her aunt’s kind smile and the bow was raised once again, the arrows glinting in the firelight.

“No,” Y/N growled. And then she launched her arrow. A pained hissing reassured her that it reached its target, slashing one of the snakes in half. 

Grover’s yelling brought a smile onto her face and she ducked once she heard him zigzagging through the air towards her. “I didn’t really think this through!” He crashed into a pile of craters, breaking them. Y/N heard Annabeth yell “Now!” and she dared open her eyes.

She saw Percy’s sword glint before it came down, cutting the air and slashing what Y/N assumed to be Medusa’s neck. She inhaled before she came beside him. Somewhere behind her she heard Grover complain about his back and Annabeth fretting over him. Percy gulped before his foot kicked the air. Squelching filled the air and Y/N’s nose scrunched up. “Nasty.”

Percy kneeled and took hold of Medusa’s invisible head, grunting and scowling in disgust. “Aw, man.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t wanna be in your place either,” replied Y/N, eyeing the air between Percy’s hands. 

“You found it?” asked Annabeth, nearing them. 

“Hope so,” replied Percy, getting up.

“There’s one more thing we need to do,”  affirmed Y/N with her hands on her hips. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Watching Percy bravely take off the Yankees cap and petrify Alecto, sent a shudder down Y/N’s spine. If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought she was witnessing an already written Olympian legend, the kind written on time consumed, yellowed scrolls. 

She exhaled as Alecto’s petrified body fell to the ground, shattering in million pieces. Percy put the cap back on, turned on his heels and marched towards the door, where Y/N was patiently waiting. She opened it for him and they slowly descended the stairs towards the basement, the quiet settling between them.

She squinted against the darkness, but her feet tripped the second time that day. She huffed in annoyance, once she regained her balance and dusted off her pants.

“You okay?” inquired Percy, the ocean in his eyes shining in the dark.

“Just fine,” she simply answered, an edge to her tone. 

Torches lit their way and they came before a still Grover and a worried Annabeth, who was throwing them looks.

“Grov? What is it?” Y/N asked, as she stopped beside him. Her eyes caught sight of a marble white statue. A satyr. He had the ghost of a smile on his lips and a daring posture. Realisation dawned on her and she whipped her head towards her friend, watching him swallow tears away.

“Uncle Ferdinand,” replied Grover in a broken whisper. 

“Oh no,” voiced Percy. 

Y/N hesitated before she let her hand gently fall on Grover’s shoulder. She squeezed it for a second, trying to muster a soft smile. She failed. Y/N could never imagine losing her aunt. A pang pierced her heart at the thought of it.

“Grover, I’m so sorry,” said Annabeth, coming closer to him. 

“This is as far as he got on his quest. We aren’t even to Trenton. But look at him,” the satyr chuckled softly, his eyes shining with unshed tears. “He’s not like the others, he… He doesn’t look afraid.”

“Sounds like someone I know. It must run in the family,” smiled Y/N.

Grover met her gaze and softly smiled back. “Thank you, Y/N.”  He then blinked his tears away and cleared his throat. “You used the, um, you used the head to get rid of Alecto?”

“Yeah,” answered Percy, watching his best friend with concern simmering in his eyes.

“Good. That was the right move.” He wiped a stray tear. “Uh, we probably should get going. It’ll be dark soon.” 

“But what are we gonna do with the head?” interjected Percy, pointing towards what remained of Medusa. “I just took down a Fury with it and I wasn’t even trying. We can’t just leave it for someone to find.” 

Y/N crossed her arms and opened her mouth to reply, an idea already forming into her head, but Percy beat her to it. “Leave the hat on and bury it in the basement, that oughta keep it safe.”

Her arms fell to her sides and her gaze swiftly moved onto her best friend, but Annabeth’s face was devoid of emotion. Stone.  “Sure. Now, can we talk about the bigger issue here?”

“What bigger issue?” frowned the son of Poseidon.

Annabeth raised her eyebrows. “You could have saved your mother? That’s what she said to you, like you discussed it already. Is your mother still alive?”

Y/N looked at Percy expectantly. 

“She’s with Hades. But I appreciate your concern.”

Her mouth fell open and her eyebrows pinched together. “Is this why you’re on the quest?”

“Guys, just please stop,” Grover’s meek voice came from behind them. 

“Oh, I’m concerned,” continued Annabeth, her voice sharp as a knife. “What are you actually doing on this quest and why did we have to hear it from Medusa?”

Percy shook his head, his face scrunching up and he rolled his eyes. “Okay, while we’re at it, “You should have accepted my offer?” What’s that about do you think? And why did we have to hear it from Alecto? And seriously, Y/N? What was that stunt that you pulled?”

Y/N scoffed, cocking an eyebrow. “What stunt?”

“I feel your envy and fury? Let me see your father’s eyes? You almost lowered your bow. I saw you!” he screamed into her face, taking a step closer.

“But I did not!”

“Enough,” yelled Grover, turning around. 

A beat of silence. Y/N glared at Percy’s profile, lightning flashing in her eyes. She crossed her arms and shifted her gaze from him. 

“The hat was a gift from her mother. It’s the only thing she’s ever possessed that connects them. That oughta matter to you,” continued the satyr with a steady voice. 

“Okay, but how are we gonna make sure this thing is safe?” asked the blond.

“I’m not up to that yet,” Grover replied sharply. “And you know Y/N’s trying to find who her father is. You were like her once, too, Percy, so I’m sure you understand where she’s coming from. But she didn’t let her guard down.”

Percy shifted his weight awkwardly, gazing at the girl beside him. She caught her eyes with a still thunderous glare.

Grover turned to the girls. “And you girls, really? His mom’s alive. Can you imagine how confusing that must be for him? Feeling like he may have to choose between the fate of the world and the fate of the only person who’s ever cared about him?”

She could imagine. If her mom was still alive, she for surely, without a doubt, would have done the same. Y/N’s arms weakened but they didn’t uncross. “What are you trying to say?” she softly asked.

“Why are you talking like this?” added Annabeth. 

“Because all day I’ve been trying to keep this quest on track without upsetting either of you.” He deeply inhaled and exhaled, calming himself down. “But maybe things need to get a little upsetting before they move forward.’ He turned towards Percy. “She asked you a question back in the woods, and you never really answered. What are you so afraid of?”

Percy blinked and shifted his feet. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me.”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do. You’ve been fighting with them, you’ve been fighting with me.”

“ Because the Oracle said one of you would betray me. Okay?” flared up Percy. He sighed and licked his lips. “You shall be betrayed by the one who calls you a friend, and you shall fail to save what matters most in the end. That’s the rest of what she said to me. I chose Annabeth because I couldn't imagine we’d ever be friends. I chose Y/N because I thought I could rely on her to protect me, to protect us. And I chose you because I thought if I can count on anyone to be on my side, no matter what, it was you.” He squared his shoulders and his voice broke. “And now, I’m feeling so alone. I don't know what to think or who to trust.”

A silence settled heavily over them. Y/N sighed, her gaze still pinned to one of the statues. It horrified her but she didn’t have the courage to look anyone else in the eye. “I guess I’m jealous,” she eventually voiced.

She could feel Percy’s steady stare on her. “Why?”

“You’re claimed.” Her tongue weighed heavily and she had to swallow some of her pride away in order to speak. “And I’m not.” 

“It’s not like I have the best relationship with my dad. It’s practically non-existent.” 

She heaved, turning to look at him, her eyebrows still furrowed. “Maybe, but he sees you. He knows you, he cares enough to claim you. Mine didn’t and continues to don’t.”

Percy shuffled his feet. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need your pity.”

“Yes, I know, it’s just–” he sighed. “This is why you’re on the quest, right? To get the attention of your godly parent?”

She hesitated, averting her gaze for a moment. She almost had the urge to tell Percy off, to turn her back on him and return to the camp to drown her invading thoughts in archery training and tree climbing. But she didn’t and she let her arms fall to the sides of her, her eyebrows and eyes softening in a sad gaze as she turned her head to catch his ocean eyes. “To find out who I really am,” she corrected him softly. 

Percy nodded, at a loss at words. He raised his hand as if he wanted to touch her shoulder in a reassuring manner but changed his mind at the last second. “We’ll find out together.” He turned towards Athena’s daughter. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

Annabeth hesitated, looking at the ground. “Alecto offered to help our quest if I gave you up on her.”

“What did you say?”

“I killed her sister,” shrugged Annabeth. 

“Medusa offered to help me save my mom if I turned on the three of you.”

“And what’d you say?”

“I cut off her head,” he replied as if he was talking about a normal Tuesday.

Grover looked at all of them, wisdom swirling in his eyes. “You didn’t choose to be demigods. We didn’t choose this quest. But we can decide that as long as the four of us are together, none of us are gonna be alone.”

Y/N’s eyes caught Percy’s and she blinked. He pursed his lips. 

“And if we can’t do that, we might as well just head back to camp right now. ‘Cause we won’t make it,” continued Grover, a note of finality in his voice. 

Percy’s gaze shifted between them, a focused look in his eye. He slightly nodded his head, his curls catching the golden light of the torches. “I think I’ve got a better idea what to do with this.” 

He marched towards the desk settled between crates and forgotten statues. His green shirt fluttered and Y/N jogged to catch up to him. He got behind the desk and flipped through a notebook. From where she stood Y/N could see scribbles, black on white, some of them hastily written, others noted in cursive writing. “Hermes Express. She ships these things all over. Some of it goes to Olympus.”

Upon hearing this, Y/N frowned and she took a step closer to the desk, taking hold of the notebook and turning it towards her. Her eyebrows raised in slight surprise. Right there, in neat handwriting stood her father’s address. 

Mount Olympus, 600th Floor, Empire State Building New York, NY

“Percy, you can’t ship Medusa’s head to Olympus,” replied Annabeth in disbelief.

“Why not?”

“Because the gods won’t like it.”

“At all. At all at all,” added Grover, shaking his head. 

Percy frowned and leaned his hands on the desk. “Why? That’s what you do with dangerous stuff. Like batteries, you just send ‘em back where they came from.”

“Okay. Look, this is a bad idea,” voiced Annabeth, a clear worry seeping into her tone.

Y/N raised her eyes from the notebook. A slight smirk was pulling at the corner of her lips. “I think it’s a brilliant idea. Make them see us.”

The blond turned his gaze onto her and shared her smirk. There was mischief shining in his eyes.

Annabeth scoffed and threw her best friend a pointed look. “They will see this as impertinent.”

“I am impertinent,” shrugged Percy.

“Yes, but we’re not,” puffed the daughter of Athena.

The satyr shook his head. “Really, very not.”

“I am,” said Y/N as she crouched down and took hold of an empty box, passing it to Percy. He threw her a brief smile, putting in the invisible head. He slammed the box onto the desk.

“Look. Medusa tried to derail our quest. She’s got serious beef with your mom. When you look at it that way, this seems kinda like tribute or something, doesn’t it? And besides…” He reached into the box and took out the blue cap with a grimace painted on his face. He held it to Annabeth. “...this way, a part of your mom’s still with us.”

She hesitated before she let her fingers wrap around the familiar fabric of the cap. “Thank you.”

He smiled at her lightly, warmly, as only a friend would. Y/N found a tape, forgotten on the corner of the desk, and she passed it to him, still smirking. He raised his gaze to her and took it from her, their fingers touching only for a fleeting second. “Be sure to sign my name as well, seaweed brain.”

His smirk broadened. “Will do.”

“So this isn’t exactly what I meant. By choosing each other,” Grover shook his head. 

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Lighten up a little, Grov. We just took down Medusa together. There will be fewer statues in the world now.”

“That’s not what I meant and there are actual dangers involved here that cannot be–” 

Slow clapping filled the air and Y/N’s smirk turned into a full blown grin.

“You’re gonna sing the song, aren’t you?”

Percy met her gaze and he started clapping faster.

“Okay,” continued Grover evenly. 

“Oh golly, the road’s gettin’ bumpy.”

“Whatever.”

“Consensus.”

A giggle escaped Y/N’s lips. Yeah, she could trust Percy. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A/N: Percy and Y/N being partners in crime is my Roman Empire. Also, I introduced Y/N's fatal flaw in this chapter. Can you guys guess which one it is?

If you'd like to be added to my main tag list or the series tag list, drop a comment or send me an ask!

Lots of love xx

Main tag list: @bohemianrhapsody86 @andreead @asgards-princess-of-mischief @islayhawkin

Series tag list: @mynicknameisgasoline @constellation-archive @leptitlu @br3nt-12 @utterlyunawarewriter @spidermansfangirl

[potentialbreakupscng]

“oh fuck off, prongs,” he mutters at his teasing, though a gentle smile appears on his lips. he allows james to touch and silently ask whether he’s actually okay and he turns his head when he does. his large hands gently catch his wrist, and he places gentle kisses upon the tips of his fingers. “i promise, love. i’m alright. i’m happy,” he states softly, his dark gaze flicking along his face while his thumb traces gentle circles along his wrist. he understands the concern. maybe not telling james of the absolute wreck of a person he had been the twelve years he had before he began teaching was a mistake. barely sleeping. heavy drinking. finding himself in a strangers bed in the mornings. he had his time to grieve, he doesn’t need more. he’ll tell him one day, but today is not that day. his long arm wraps around him as he settles against his side, and calloused fingers begin to draw soft patterns along his arm while he drops the other mans hand with a soft sigh.

he lets his eyes close as his head rests back against the tub, his smile growing when he feels james’s hand seek out his own. he peeks open an eye when james speaks again, before opening both of them so he can watch him. his thumb runs along the side of his hand. “well thank you for giving me permission to swear,” he teases, shifting so he can place a kiss to the top of his head. so strangely affectionate for a man who used to struggle with this type of intimacy. he had been so hard and so closed off for so many years, he’s just so tired of it. james has always been someone he’s felt so comfortable with — someone who encouraged being soft and affectionate. he’s too old to hide anymore — especially aroubd someone he’s missed so much over the years. talking to james when he couldn’t respond was the worst — especially at the beginning when he would wait and even beg for james to say something. james potter was never quiet or held his tongue for too long — and he shudders at the memory of it.

he pauses for a moment, just enjoying the feeling of being so close to one of the people he loves the most. he casts his gaze over to the open door for a moment when he hears a shift in the bed, his arm around james tightening before he hears the barely audible snores that come from sirius. he levels his gaze back on james as he speaks again. “you know — you’re allowed to talk about it, and feel tired and sad and whatever else you may be feeling.” he brings their intertwined hands up to his lips, placing kisses on each one of the other man’s knuckles while still keeping an eye on him. “it isn’t going to dampen the mood or make me upset. talk to me.” he rests their hands back on his stomach, eyes never leaving his. “how are you? and don’t bullshit me.” because he’ll know — james was always terrible at hiding his true feelings.

it says a lot about where james is, the way he enjoys and lingers. he's worn out from the night's earlier events and the emotional roiling that came with them, but still ever eager for any thread of love. a less exhausted night he probably have pressed to very literally pick up where they had left off, but this...this is what he needed right now. it always had been a wonder to him that remus could do that without them ever speaking on the matter; he somehow just knew. always.

even when a pause to breathe is required, he's content exactly where he is. tiny thrills race under his skin when remus's hands move, james undeniably entranced by the fountain of affection. he couldn't imagine a lifetime of being away from this when he'd barely handled it before-- and then he hears it. or rather he registers it after there's suddenly space between them again and remus has pulled away. the near-break in the other's voice that reminded him one of them had had a lifetime being away from this.

he's initially too stunned to actually say anything, caught in the whirl of the bathroom's cool air prickling against his throat where warm hands had been a few seconds ago. then he's being told not to say anything, and for once james listens. gives moony the moment to collect himself that was necessary and surprisingly patient until he's invited close again. " and there i was thinking we didn't need a swear jar anymore, " he teases as he does so, this time nestling against remus's side so neither of them have to twist uncomfortably to look at each other or hold hands. still, he can't help a concerned trailing of fingertips across the other's cheek down his jaw, a silent check in to avoid the mess of trying to find the correct words to ask any questions.

a concern he realizes might also just as easily tip things again, but he doesn't take it back. just seeks out the hand unoccupied with holding him close to lace their fingers again. " guess it has been that kind of night though, huh? " the question is rhetorical, of course. a tired approval of the cursing so aptly describing the interruption and its wake. maybe a little bit admitting defeat, which he hated to do, but the night had been long and not easy on any of them.

[r0semultiverse]

In case you didn’t know or needed to hear it, things do get better after you turn 18. Your life isn’t over even when you hit 21. 💜

This is me at vaguely around my mid-twenties. I’m trans & I’m here & while I don’t have everything figured out, I certainly have figured myself out way more than when I was younger. 💜 Yes it gets better. Yes you can grow older & be trans. There are people out there willing to love & accept you for you. There are partners, friends, family to be found. Don’t give up! 💪 Be proud, be loud, & let your rage out! Down with cis! Let’s rock this joint & keep on living!! 🖤 Things will be less noisy eventually, just please live! ⭐️

💖 You are worth it & it gets better! 💜

[floral-hex]

fuck, I hate telehealth, but ya know, I think I’d actually like it if it was in minecraft instead of a video call. Let’s do therapy in roblox or something.

[e-m-p-error]

MULTIMUSE QUESTIONAIRE

Tagging: @infernalight, @infernal-feminae, @heartsofhell, @questionablemuses, @because-i-simp, @frostworkxfiction, @deepspacevivarium, @hotelbitches, @voxiiferous

RULES: Answer the questions with the Muses that would best fit the answers. Bonus if you give details why. If tagged, copy and paste into a new post – DO NOT REBLOG!

1) Rank your softest Muse and your toughest Muse. (Personality-wise)

My softest muse is definitely Vick. He's a 0 on the toughness scale, he's a big teddy bear and he will choose kindness over anything else at any point.

My toughest muse is probably Barbie. Girl is tough as nails and will not be stopped if she puts her mind to something. She doesn't take pain as a reason to stop and will go harder when it hurts.

2) Which Muse would blow through $1000 quickly?

Valentino, hands down. He spends $1,000 every day easily on things he doesn't even need. He loves to buy expensive things and will do so at all hours. He especially loves spending Vox's money. $1,000 is a drop in the bucket for him and he doesn't even notice spending it.

3) Do any of them have nicknames? Is there a meaning behind them?

Quite a few of them do!

Valentino answers to Bunny from his lovers, it's a subspace trigger word for him. I assigned him Bunny because he's Cute And Horny, aka a rabbit, and a bunny sub is fairly common.

4) Are any of them up-to-speed on the latest trends? Anyone more old school?

Velvette, Vox, and Valentino are obsessed with always being on top of the next new thing.

Alastor hates new things and will fight them as much as he can.

5) Who has the best relationship with their siblings?

Valentino had a fairly good relationship with his siblings when he was alive. He had seven of them, plus three live-in cousins that were like his siblings.

6) Karaoke night! Who is likely to grab the mic first and bust out a tune?

Beelzebub, Ozzie, Valentino, and Ostello! They all love to sing and party, and they're all pretty good at it. Ostello was a pop-jazz singer when he was alive and before he died in Hell, too!

7) Who is least likely to enter a beauty pageant/model?

Gretchen. She doesn't think that she's very pretty, and would just feel embarrassed even going to watch.

Travis. He is constantly told he's very ugly, and he doesn't have a very high opinion of his looks.

8) If your Muses visited a haunted house where actors scare you, who would panic and who would be unfazed? 

Chazz, Gretchen, Charlie, Anya, Magpie, Summer, Travis, and Vick would be the easiest to scare!

Valore, Dimas, Cash, Glitz, Stu, Paimon, Alastor, Darío, Niffty, and Vox would be the hardest to phase.

9) Are any of your Muses particular about taking certain modes of transportation?

Vox prefers to be driven around and doesn't like driving himself.

Valentino only likes to drive occasionally and prefers pretty sports cars when he does.

Anya and Darío are motorcycle people.

Emily enjoys bicycles!

10) Share a little-known fact about any Muse.

Adam is actually a very good father and he loves kids and babies. He is very tender with children even if he can be harder on them once they have grown into adults.

[inkykeiji]

I AM SO EXCITED FOR UR CHAT GAME LFKOSOSKZOQKSHI EACH TIME U TALK ABOUT IT I CRYYYYYYY

I AM SO EXCITED THAT U ARE SO EXCITED i have so many ideas and i’m really really really eager to get feedback from everyone who’s interested in it so i can move forward in a more productive manner!!!!!

ha ha ha every time i talk about it i cry as well bcoz it literally makes me want to jump off a roof sometimes lol 。ﾟ(ﾟﾉД｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡ but i think ultimately it will be worth all the work n tears

[yours-etc]

hi all! just wanted to stop in and remind you:

there is no “right” way to grieve

grief is not linear

you don’t owe anyone an explanation for how you deal with loss <3

[moechies]

kinktober ⋆౨ৎ entry #1 ; cockwarming w toji fushiguro .ᐟ

dear diary ♡,

a couple days ago, mister toji taught me how to 'cockwarm.' it's where i simply sit on his . . . cock, and warm him up -- he says. i was so nervous ! he is so big , and i thought it was going to hurt tons ! it burned a little , but felt so much better after settling a little. mister toji was touching me so softly all over, calling me sweet things, and even played with my tail! i'm so embarrassed -- i must've been blushing so much! i think i may ask him to do it again today , i hope he doesn't get angry . . . i love mister toji so so sooooooo much ! ♡

“c—can we do it when you’re done?”

“what?”

he can tell by the way you’re fidgeting and your ears are twitching— you need something. you pinch at the skin of your thigh, nervous with little courage as you ask.

“the— the thing you taught me. last week. the warming one?” you quip, tugging on toji’s shirt as he finishes up cleaning the dishes in the sink.

“oh.. y’want my fat dick in y’r lil bunny pussy is what ‘m hearing, is that right ?” he emphasizes on dick. he’s so blunt, and it makes you want to crawl and hide. he turns to you with a checkered apron hanging onto his neck, hand leaning against the sink. his smug smile spreads across his face, seeming to enjoy the way you grow flustered.

you whine at his choice of words, thighs rubbing against eachother with need. he acts as if he doesn’t see you writhing besides him, your arm purposefully pressed against your chest to suppress your sore tits.

he can practically smell the sweet slick spilling from your pussy bunny, smearing over the crotch of your panties.

toji briefly tugs at the string that holds the back of his apron together, swiftly pulling it over his head before tossing the piece of fabric onto the dining table. he steps forward, figure pressed against yours and you unconsciously stumble back. he makes you so weak.

“uh huh—“ you’re about to beg again, but he’s quick to scoop you up by your legs, hoisting you up into his arms. you yelp, but make no effort to get away — instead, nuzzling your face closer into the crevice his neck, dizzy at the detected mixed scent of his woody colonge and tart sweat.

he chuckles when you huff at the intial drop of your body onto the matress of your shared room, your plush body sinking into the pillowy sheets. your legs part naturally, taking up your invitation and having him slot himself right where you need him most. his broad shoulders press up against your plush thighs, spreading them further than before.

“bad bunny. y’know you can’t just have cock in ya twenty-four seven, right?” his left pointer finger tugs your flimsy shorts aside, and right thumb presses against the soaked patch of your cunt. you mewl under his touch, soft pads of your feet coming up to press him away. you gently shove at his bicep, but he barely moves. he knows you don’t want him to move anyway. “‘m n—not a bad bunny!”

“you are.”

“n—not, ‘m not mister!”

“hmm, i dunno about that.” he hums, pressing against your clothed clit. “are ya ever not in heat?"

"sir, please, n’more questions!" you whine in fustration, yelping when his pointer and thumb meanly pinches at your swollen bud. your eyes bulb with tears, meeting his that suddenly glare so meanly in comparison to his often soft, emerald ones.

"do you know who you're talking to?" toji growls, squishing the chub of your folds together, the slight simulation to your clit making you flinch.

"y—yes, sir. but please . . . mister, need you here, need your cock here!" you whine, ears sullied and pointed low. your hand moves his to take ahold of his finger, pressing it against your aching slit.

"there there . . ." he coos, thumb sliding over your clothed slit but paying it no attention. he presses a warm kiss on the soddened fabric, low lidded eyes and a smug grin that meet yours when he does. you're adorable like this — absolutely worked up and so terribly desperate; it's his favorite version of you.

"m—mister," you stammer,

"c'mere doll." he sits up against the headboard, pulling you onto his lap. you yelp when you feel the chub of his cock pressing against your folds, grinding down senselessly. toji laughs, getting a hold of your bicep to halt your hips movements. "don't be so greedy, bun."

"hnn—" you whine, tail thumping against his thigh. you slowly tug down his sweats, ears perking up when you realize the missing piece of fabric below — he's not wearing boxers!

he notices the way your eyes light up, cheeks begin to flush, and your expression grows brighter than before — you're one step closer to where you need to be. he almost hates the adorable expression sprawled across your face, chuckling when you look up to him with big-doed eyes searching for a green light.

you salivate when you tug the sweats just low enough, his cock slaps against his stomach. he scoffs, watching his cock leak against his soft skin. he’s getting old.

“inside now— mister—“ you pant, drool spilling at the corners of your mouth. you whine again, hands weakly tugging aside your shorts along with your panties, and aligning his cock head with your fat slit. “mister . . .” you whine, hinting for help.

“y’can do it.” toji grunts, placing a hand onto your plush hip. “ mmh, you got it.”

maybe you don’t ‘got it,’ because it burns so terribly when your folds swallow his cock!

“m—mister, mister !” you whine, quickly pulling yourself off his bulbous tip at the initial burn. he watches your slick stretch from your wet slit to his cock head, making him groan.

“calm down . . y’r rushin,’” he readjusts you, pulling your quivering hips close before you’re hovering over his cock again with small tears. “my bunny can’t do it herself, can’t she? whatta dumb lil’ thing.” toji chuckles, “there there.” he whispers with a sultry voice, making your cunt quiver around nothing.

you whine when you feel him tug down at your hips, whining when his hot tip presses against your slit once again — your slits kissing.

“big sir, s—so big,” you whine, a stutter in your voice from the stretch down low.

“slow down, hurts ‘cause you’re rushin.’ see?” he coos, lifting and lowering your hips over and over, fucking you on his tip. no — you don’t see because you’re awfully lightheaded, hands weakly stabilizing yourself above him but little do you know it’s solely his support keeping you up.

your cunt squelches with each and every single movement, a low ‘pop’ that elicits from your pussy whenever he moves you. “good girl. you can take it, am i ever wrong?”

“i—i can, can take it . . .” you slur, head fluffy and hands weak against his pelvis. “good girl. now sit.”

he grunts, pulling your hips down suddenly all the way, your cunt kissing on his dewy balls. “fuck, damn it.” toji groans — you cry at the stretch, cunt sore and raw when he grinds you down further than possible. “m—mister !”

he chuckles again, breath labored as he pushes the loose strands of his hair back. “worst part’s over, doll.” toji presses down at your arch to lay you against him. he can still feel your body twitching from hiccups of your previous fit — poor bunny. “i—it is . . “ you hiccup. he pets at your soft ear that trails down to your waist, giving your plush skin a soft pinch with a hum. “mister . . feels good . .” you purr, tail twitching incessantly again.

“course it does.”

[honeypiehotchner]

Juno (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Hello again! This goes from zero to 100 in two seconds flat don't @ me!! Sabrina's new album came out and reawakened something in me (everyone say thank you Sabrina) (also this is not beta'd I wrote this in a short n' sweet haze)

Summary: Aaron is working from home but what paperwork he needs to do is the absolute last thing on your mind.

Warnings: smut! 18+ only! this is so filthy! in no particular order: multiple orgasms, cockwarming, choking, brat tendencies, stoplight system, unprotected sex, breeding kink (briefly), face fucking, overstimulation

WC: like 3,400 I lost my damn mind clearly

You’re not sure what’s gotten into you. Blame it on period hormones (probably) or the fact that Aaron looks absolutely delicious right now in his tight black t-shirt (most likely), but you’re going to go insane if either of you have clothes on for another five minutes. 

The problem is, Aaron is trying to focus. It’s one of his days where he works from home, an idea you gave him when you realized how easy it would be for him to do the same paperwork just from the comfort of your living room. It was a brilliant idea at first. You got to see him more, and were able to do your own thing around the house while he did his work. You got to have lunch together, and offer a genuine mental break in between his mountain of paperwork. 

Now, though, you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck about whatever needs to be signed, who needs to clear what, and what phone calls he still needs to make. 

“Honey,” you call sweetly from the kitchen. You watch him from over the island, your thoughts going all sorts of ways -- namely, deep into the gutter. “Want to break for lunch?”

You see Aaron shake his head, still typing furiously on his laptop. “It’s not even noon yet.”

“Brunch?” you try again, walking out of the kitchen. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms over your chest in the way you know he loves because of the view it gives him of your cleavage. And you’re wearing a v-neck shirt today for that exact reason, too.

Aaron still doesn’t look up. “I’m sorry honey, maybe in an hour?”

You let out a huff that you know he hears because he finally looks up, eyebrows raised just so. It’s a look that you love. Curious, veering toward that playful annoyance that you can’t seem to go a few hours without his undivided attention. 

Which, you can, by the way. You’re more than capable. It’s just that right now, it’s a crime that his eyes have been looking at paperwork when they should be looking at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and there’s some hesitation in his voice. You know he’s assuming the worst. That you’re not okay mentally, and that’s why you need him to take his lunch break now or maybe for the rest of the day. He’s done it before on your darker days.

But you’re okay. You’re perfectly fine. You’d just be even better if he put the damn laptop away and put his fingers to use somewhere else.

Which is exactly why you come to a stop in front of him and reach forward, tilting his screen down and down until it closes. He lets you.

He lets you take his laptop and put it on the table beside the couch. He watches you, his fiery brown eyes taking in every second. He lets you straddle his hips, your arms circling his neck.

“I see now,” he smirks, his hands finding their rightful place on your waist and squeezing lovingly. “By ‘lunch break’ you mean…”

“Put a baby in me,” you blurt, rocking your hips against his.

He stills, his hands making you stop your movements, too. His eyes are darker now in a way you haven’t seen in a while. “What?”

“Please,” you say, leaning your forehead down onto his, trying to move your hips again. “Need you.”

“Honey, we can’t have--”

“Yes I know the semantics, Aaron,” you mutter, now annoyed and lifting your head to glare at him. He has a vasectomy, you get that. “I mean fuck me like you’re putting a baby in me.”

His hands squeeze again. “I see.”

You frown. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not,” he smirks, one hand leaving your waist to stroke your cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re horny.”

You roll your eyes, peeling yourself off his lap. He lets you go, albeit with a curious look. You turn and head for the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he calls out after you, still with that damn smirk lacing his words.

“To get myself off,” you reply in a deadpan. “Since someone--”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence before Aaron is right behind you, hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him. That look full of fire is back again, stern this time.

“Did I say you could do that?” he says in a low tone.

“Did I ask?” you retort, backing out of his grasp and darting into the bedroom. 

Now there’s a smirk on your lips. It’s quickly approaching shit-eating grin territory, which you know will only egg Aaron on further. This little game of cat and mouse happens to be your favorite, and he knows it.

You’re barely two steps into the bedroom when Aaron is attached to your back yet again, this time wrapping his arms around your waist, locking you in.

“Color?” he whispers, his lips right at your ear, sending shivers straight down your spine.

You groan. “Green. Neon green. So green, I need you to--”

He spins you again, this time backing you into the wall and attacking your lips. Finally, you think, though you know you’re in for it now. The thought has a grin crawling up your lips, and you’re unable to stop it.

“What’s so funny, hm?” he scolds, moving his lips to your neck instead, to the exact spot he knows makes you weak in the knees. Like clockwork, he has to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you upright, your knees buckling when he bites down just so.

“Nothing,” you manage through a moan, tipping your head back onto the wall. “Shit.”

“You’re ridiculous sometimes, you know,” he says, but he’s smiling against your skin. “Can’t let me focus on work because you need me to fuck you.”

“In my defense,” you try, your hands scrambling for his shoulders, for something to ground you. “You didn’t fuck me this morning.”

“I fucked you last night,” he reminds you, as if you needed the reminder. It’s the reason you slept so soundly. “Was that not enough?”

You can’t help it; you laugh. 

He lifts his head, raising an eyebrow at you. The same question as before on his lips.

“Sorry, I thought you were joking,” you say. 

“You’re insatiable.” 

“Guilty,” you grin, grabbing his face and pulling him back in for another kiss.

You make out against the wall for too long like two teenagers behind the bleachers at school. You hook one leg around his hips, pulling him in and grinding against his obvious erection. It’s enough to have him groaning into your mouth, pressing you against the wall with renowned vigor. 

You can feel how wet you’re becoming and fuck, neither of you have even taken a single article of clothing off yet.

Aaron notices, one hand traveling south without you paying attention, too busy relishing the way he licks into your mouth, stealing your every breath. The kissing becomes increasingly sloppy when he works his hand into your leggings, under the waistband of your underwear, and into you.

“Oh my god,” your back arches against the wall, pushing his fingers deeper. He doesn’t bother with one, starting right away with two, curling them when you grind harder.

“You’re soaking my hand,” he practically growls into the next kiss, adding a third finger after only a few thrusts. Your body accepts it willingly, always ready for him. “Jesus.”

“More,” you gasp, pushing him deeper. “Aaron, more, I’m serious--” Your words break off as he scissors his fingers, making your eyes roll back instantly.

“I can feel you already,” he smirks against your cheek, pressing a kiss there, an action so sweet and gentle compared to what the rest of him is doing. “Come on, honey. You’re cumming as many times as you want.”

That makes you inch closer to the edge at a frightening speed. He says you can cum as many times as you want, but what he means is he’s going to force as many orgasms out of you as he can. Until you tell him to stop or he decides you need a break. 

The thought of being an overstimulated mess in his embrace later has you climaxing against his fingers, your head falling onto his shoulder as his movements never cease, milking every last wave out of you. 

You lift your head in search of his lips again, which he willingly gives to you, his fingers slowing to soothing strokes as you whimper into his mouth. You’ve only had one orgasm and you already feel ruined. He can tell the way you tremble against him, so he checks in once more.

“Green?” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

You nod. “Green. You?”

He smirks. “Absolutely.”

He picks you up into his arms, inelegantly tossing you onto the bed behind you. You giggle as you bounce on the mattress, tugging your shirt over your head as he does the same to his. His hands move for his belt and you practically jump to the end of the bed, swatting his hands away.

“Since when is that your job?” you frown up at him, unbuckling his belt without looking.

He laughs, petting your head gently. “So sorry, you’re right.”

“What was that?” you tease. “I don’t think I heard you.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” you smirk, pulling his belt out of the loops and tossing it somewhere. You don’t wait for him to reply before you unbutton his jeans, yanking them down with his boxers.

There’s just something about his dick. You hate that you love it, or maybe you don’t hate it at all. All you know is you need it in your mouth right now.

So, you do that, without any warning. Aaron thrusts forward into your mouth on pure instinct, not expecting you to wrap your lips around him so soon. You slide down the edge of the bed onto your knees, pulling him back to you by his thighs. 

You take your time, pushing his jeans and boxers down further. When you pull back for air, he steps out of them and kicks them elsewhere, returning to you quickly, knowing better than to keep you waiting. 

You swallow him down again, moaning around him in the way you know he loves. It takes all of two seconds before he gently holds the back of your head, asking silently for permission that you were already about to grant. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes as you squeeze his thigh twice. Go ahead.

The thing about Aaron fucking your face is that it took a while for him to do it as hard as you really wanted. He’s always so gentle, a quality that drew you to him initially. You love how gentle he can be. But you love it equally as much when he is rougher with you.

Like now, when he has you pinned against the bed, one hand on the back of your head as he fucks into your throat. It’s blissful, quite frankly, the way he feels, and you thank the universe every time for your lack of a gag reflex. 

He holds you there with a deep groan, and you feel him twitch in your throat once before he pulls you off entirely. You frown up at him, once again not getting what you wanted, but he doesn’t have any time for that.

He picks you up by your armpits, hauling you back onto the bed. Your leggings and underwear are gone in a single second, along with your bra. He’s crawling up your body and crowding your space before you have a second to protest that he wasn’t down your throat for near as long as you wanted him to be. 

All frustrations leave your mind the second he pushes inside of you, immediately sliding home, his hips flush against yours. 

It’s a feeling you’ve grown to love, the way he hits you so deep. Another thing it took him a while to be comfortable doing.

He’s not average sized by any means, and you’re the first to admit it made you salivate the first time you saw. The first time he fed himself into you and worried that he was hurting you, meanwhile you were clawing his back because you wanted more. It hurt for a moment, only an uncomfortable pressure because he was bigger than your vibrator, but as soon as you were used to the size of him, you wanted all of him.

He stays there, deep in you without moving for a moment, grinding against you. His lips attack yours again before he pauses to lean his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath.

“You drive me crazy,” he says on a shaky exhale.

You wrap your legs around him, thrusting your hips up to take him a little more. His hips stutter, pushing in the way you wanted him to, the way you know you can make him do involuntarily.

“Fuck,” he bites out, turning his attention to your neck again.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging. “Exactly. So why aren’t you moving?”

He nips at your neck. “Because if I move, I will cum right away.”

“Who said I only want you to cum inside me once?”

He groans again, fingers digging into your hips as you circle them, though he doesn’t try to stop you. “Greedy” is all he says, but he finally moves.

The thrusts are slow at first, Aaron clearly trying to pace himself. You can’t say you’re doing the same, already chasing your second high as he slams his hips into yours. Your hand reaches down to rub your clit, but is promptly smacked away by Aaron’s hand as he glares at you.

“Since when is that your job?” he echoes you from earlier, only this time, there’s more heat to it. He grabs both of your wrists, pinning them above your head to stop any other temptation. “Not this time.”

His thrusts pick up speed and depth, his body moving against yours in the exact way that makes you fall apart. It’s not often that he doesn’t let you cum from added clit stimulation -- not that you can’t without it; it just makes the high feel that much better -- but sometimes he does. It’s an ego trip for him as much as it is for you.

It also adds an unpredictable nature to it, which is why your second orgasm takes you by such surprise. You seize against him, your hands doing all sorts of squirming to try to break free of his grasp, but he doesn’t let you, and he doesn’t let up. You don’t realize why until you feel the warmth spreading into you as he reaches his own peak. 

You’ve clearly worked him up as much as you worked yourself up because his thrusts barely slow down, and he doesn’t soften inside of you. 

Instead, he pulls out only to flip you on your side, sliding in behind you and pulling your leg up and back over his hips. The action causes some of his cum to spill out of you, but you don’t have any time to focus on that before he fucks back into you. 

You’ve ceased to have any coherent thoughts as Aaron whispers dirty nothings into your ear, one arm wrapped around your body to keep you pinned against him. The pleasure doesn’t stop and at one point, you question if your second orgasm stopped at all or if it has continued this entire time.

Aaron reaches underneath the pillow where he knows he’ll find one of your vibrators because he heard you using it this morning. No, he didn’t fuck you this morning, but you fucked yourself, and truly, at 8am, he should’ve known you’d end up like this by eleven. 

Your mind doesn’t register what the sound means until the vibrator is pressed against your clit. Your body jerks, scrambling for some grounding, your hands finding it in wrapping them around his arm. 

He switches hands on the vibrator, so one hand is free to wrap around your throat. Your eyes roll back as soon as you feel the gentle pressure, your body practically going limp against him. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs directly into your ear, his thrusts slowing to deep strokes. “You’ve got a couple more in you.”

“A couple?” is all you manage to say, your hand squeezing his wrist so he knows to squeeze your throat a little more.

“Mhm,” his voice rumbles in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body. “Is it too much?” His question is laced with just the right amount of pity that makes you shake your head against him. “I thought so,” he replies, switching the vibrator to a higher setting.

It sends you into your third orgasm instantly, squirming violently against him as he pushes into you deeper. He knows how much you love that, and loves how much you squeeze around him as he slides inside, fighting against your muscles that threaten to force him out. You’ve done it before, a mesmerized look on his face and yours when you both realized what happened. Since then, you told him you liked it more when he fought to stay inside. 

He takes the vibrator away as you calm down, his hips also pausing, keeping himself deep inside you. The pressure is soothing, and you take a moment to take a deep breath. His palm falls away from your throat, instead propping underneath your cheek.

It takes a few seconds before you feel yourself spasming around him. He chuckles against your back, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Still?”

You nod dumbly, rocking your hips again. “Yeah. I don’t know, I just-- Need more.”

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, pulling out again to roll you onto your stomach instead, one of your favorite positions.

You’re floating as you settle into the pillows, letting Aaron manhandle you wherever you need to be. You groan in your happy, blissed out state as he slides home again, draping himself over your back.

He is gentler now, knowing that’s exactly what you need at this point. The last orgasm he pulls from you is just as gentle, and he pushes deeper into you, letting you ride it out. 

He pulls your hips up and thrusts once, twice before he’s spilling into you. You didn’t realize he was that close again. The warmth is soothing this time as it spreads through you. 

Aaron leaves you only to settle behind you, spooning you once again. Your hand reaches behind you to find him, and he catches your wrist. 

“You need to rest,” he chides softly.

“I know,” you whimper. “Need you inside me.”

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck as he slides in again, still half-hard, but it’s enough. You settle down as soon as the weight of him is tucked inside you again. “Better?”

“Mhm,” you sleepily nod, pushing back into him so he holds you tighter. “Do you have to go back to work?”

He chuckles against you, sighing. “No, I’m done for the day, I think,” he says. “I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well.”

That makes you laugh. “We need a better excuse.”

“Or I need to go back to working in the office.”

You roll your eyes. “Like that’ll make a difference.”

He shakes his head, his mind remembering the same memories that you are. The many lunch hours when you went to eat with him, and ended up with your back pressed into the couch, his tie stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Go to sleep,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer. “I’ll make us lunch when we wake up.”

“Perfect,” you smile, nuzzling into him. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey,” he says, pressing little kisses to your neck and cheeks, wherever he can reach. “Now sleep.”

You’re already halfway there. The combination of him nestled inside of you and the post-orgasm exhaustion is enough to lull you into a restful sleep.

[suskz]

Saw jockchan x nerd reader. I was wondering if you could write something about swim captain Chan x quiet female reader ?

pairing: SwimCaptain!Chan x Quiet!fem!Reader

t/w: smut ; semi-public sex ; secret relationship ; oral (f!rec) ; jealousy ; exhibitionism kink (but no exhibitionism) ; unprotected sex (be smarter, don’t do that).

w/c: around 1,8k

a/n: It’s 1:45 a.m. here, I’m going to sleep now. Hope you like it! ♡

18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

There are 25 minutes left until the end of the training session when you arrive.

"Come see me at training today, it will bring me luck for tomorrow’s championship." This was his sweet request this afternoon, and you naturally said yes; it's just a pity that you arrived an hour late.

Your quick steps to take a seat in the stands can’t be heard by the guys as they talk near the pool, but Chan notices you the moment you enter.

His head turns in your direction and he smiles at you, waving a hand at you. You do the same, returning the greeting.

Immediately, his eyes shift to Changbin and Jisung though, members of the team, who seem to be arguing, and he approaches them.

It doesn’t take you long to understand that they were arguing about who is the fastest swimmer of the two, as shortly after they are giving each other challenging looks as they get into position and enter the water when Chan gives them the signal.

You like seeing him in leader mode in moments like this. It’s extremely hot, but also really cute when he turns in your direction to look at you, shaking his head in exasperation, making you giggle.

But your attention shifts a little further away from you when you hear a girl speaking.

"Did you see him? Now you can’t say he isn’t gorgeous." One of the two girls says to the other.

“He’s freaking perfect, oh my God,” the other girl comments. “What did you say his name was?”

“Bang Chan; I’ll give you his Instagram.”

Your teeth clench at the last sentence. Are they talking about Chan? Your Chan?

The same Chan who kisses, fucks, and cuddles you every day?

You briefly consider letting them know. You should turn to them and tell them to their faces, but there’s something holding you back, keeping you still. And this thing prohibits you from letting them know how things really are, so you sit there in silence, enduring their annoying compliments about him for what feels like endless minutes.

Yes, his body and muscles are stunning. Yes, his voice is sensual and his laugh is sweet. Yes, he has an irresistible gaze. Do they really need to keep repeating that?

When the training ends and you think you’ve finally gotten rid of them, they’re in front of him before you can make a move.

You watch them from afar, standing and waiting, trying to appear as normal and indifferent as possible while they congratulate the captain for his hard work as a leader. Ah, and also for his hard work in the gym.

He chuckles with his dimples showing, first shaking his hands in front of himself in a gesture of denial, but ending up scratching the back of his neck as he thanks them cordially. The two girls look at each other and giggle.

But a few minutes later, it’s you who finds yourself in the locker room with him, his hands on your hips and his lips on yours, feverish and needy.

“Were you jealous?” He grins teasingly, but deep down he feels immense tenderness and perhaps a little embarrassment knowing that you love him so much that you can’t stand other girls complimenting him in that way.

You don’t respond, looking at his bare chest and hoping he’ll stop.

His smile grows, “I saw how you were looking at them, your eyes were burning flames.” He stifles a chuckle as you raise your head with a guilty expression.

“Was I that obvious?” You ask, your cheeks starting to blush, embarrassed by your exaggerated reaction.

“Yes, but I like it.” He leans in to kiss you again, but soon his hands slip under your shirt and you break the kiss.

“Chan, we can’t do this here.” you whisper against his lips. All the other guys from the team are just meters away, taking a shower. You risk being heard, and you don’t want that to happen.

“But I need you now.” he whispers on your neck, starting to leave warm, wet kisses.

You don’t respond, but you tilt your head to give him more space and don’t stop him, and he takes this action as agreement.

He licks and sucks on a patch of your skin, leaving a red mark that will be prominently displayed for days. He might get completely hard just at the thought of you walking around with the mark of his presence on your body, even if others don’t know whose it is.

He pulls away and admires it, then gives it one final kiss, making you hiss from the slight pain.

Needy, his hand grabs yours and pulls you into the bathroom. You don’t resist; you follow him, silent, and together you enter one of the showers, closing the curtain. The one in the corner, with an empty shower next to it.

And then, Chan turns on the water, wetting both of you, although not completely.

“Chan, you finally came in, why did it take you so long?” Changbin yells from a few showers away.

“I just had a moment with Y/n.” Chan responds casually, as if he weren’t currently lowering your shorts and underwear at the same time.

“Oh, she’s already gone?” This time it’s Jisung’s voice.

“Yeah, she went back to the dorm.”

There’s something, something that arouses both of you at the idea that you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing while his friends are there, just meters away from you, unaware.

His fingers move skilfully between your folds, rubbing your clit with one finger quickly while two of his other fingers hold your pussy lips open as your hips move back and forth instinctively.

When his fingers enter your cunt, they do so easily from how wet you are and from all the times his cock has been inside you.

You take his face in your hands to bring your lips closer to his ear so you can talk to him, “We don’t have time, put it in already.” You whisper, and his cock twitches in the tight shorts he’s wearing, reminding him of how damn tight they feel.

He withdraws his fingers and turns you around, replacing them with his dick, entering you slowly to allow you to more easily suppress any sounds that could be heard by the others.

His hands hold the lower parts of your cheeks to spread them apart to get in deeper as he moves inside you. It’s not the best position, but you can’t bend over because you’d risk slipping.

Your moans are silent. Your heavy breaths are fortunately hard to hear with the shower water running and their voices humming.

Chan tries not to fuck you too hard to avoid the sound of your skins slapping together. Because you’re not alone, and no one must hear you. Even though, maybe, he actually wants someone to hear you. He wants someone to find out about the dirty things you’re doing without their knowledge, right there near them. Maybe he secretly wishes someone would open the shower curtain and see you in this situation.

And maybe you want it too.

But these thoughts don’t stop both of you from freezing at the sudden sound of Hyunjin’s voice. “Does anyone have shower gel?”

His movements pause only for a moment. He should feel embarrassed, mortified to hear his friend’s voice so close to you in such a situation, but instead, it sends a jolt of pleasure to his cock, and he immediately starts moving again.

You look at him with an expression now fearful, but this arouses you as much as it does him.

Jeongin’s voice is quick to respond, “I do, here it is.”

“Thanks Jeonginnie, love you.” Hyunjin thanks him in his sweet voice.

Chan pulls out of you, but before you have time to say anything, he turns you around, grabs your thighs from behind, and lifts you, pushing you against the wall. His arms slide under your knees and spread you open, re-entering you.

“That’s better.” he whispers against your lips, and you nod in agreement with quick breaths.

The pleasure intensifies for both of you. A soft moan escapes his lips, not being able to hold it back, causing him to bite his lower lip and hide his face on your shoulder, his ears turning redder as he failed to contain his pleasure.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling strands, causing his hips to buck up in a harder thrust, making your head slide back against the shower tiles.

It’s at this moment that the others start coming out of the showers, and soon they are out of the locker room after greeting Chan and telling him to hurry up.

When everyone is out, you both look at each other, then chuckle.

“I couldn’t hold back anymore.” you admit.

“Me neither.” he says.

“I noticed.” you tease, and he looks at you with narrowed eyes and furrowed eyebrows in an offended look.

You clench around him on purpose, eliciting a needy moan from his lips. In response, he thrusts into you, and this time it’s you who whines.

“You’re as needy as I am.” he grins, resuming his movements. This time you’re a bit freer to let out your voice, but you need to hurry. His thrusts are faster now, reaching deeper spots inside you, being able to fuck you harder, eliciting a series of staccato moans from you.

“Touch yourself.” he orders and you immediately obey, without needing to be told twice.

His movements become more erratic. He’s close, and you can tell by the way his cock twitches inside you and releases small droplets of pre-cum.

His moans grow deeper, and he closes his eyes, trying to hold back from coming with all the self-control he has to make you reach your climax too, with him. But it’s difficult for him, and soon he has you back on your feet, giving a few final thrusts before pulling out of you and stroking his cock quickly through his orgasm.

He tries not to throw his head back in pleasure, wanting to see the ropes of his hot cum covering your pussy and thighs as you stand there with trembling legs.

Your mind is still fogged with pleasure, and you don’t notice what’s happening until you feel his tongue on your clit, which makes you let out a whimper. You look down to see your boyfriend on his knees with his head between your legs, looking up at you.

You run your fingers through his hair, and he pulls away, “You need to come quickly, someone will be coming for spot checks soon.” He warns you before returning with his tongue between your folds and two fingers inside you, stroking at your sensitive spot.

[wilwheaton]

In a long essay about the televised incident, Wheaton makes a lot of salient, emotionally vulnerable points about his reaction to David’s stunt, tying it in to memories of parental abuse he suffered as a kid—pointing out, among other things, that, within the agreed-upon fiction that we all adhere to pretty fervently around all things Muppet or Muppet-related, Elmo is a child. Writing, Wheaton notes that “Elmo is an avatar for children all over the world. Children who are too small to understand Elmo is a puppet will know that a man attacked someone they love for no reason, and that will frighten and confuse them.”

Wil Wheaton condemns Larry David for his Elmo-based violence

This story is a week old, and has blown up today. The right wing smoothbrains are out in force, doing their usual thing, until they get distracted by the existence of a successful woman somewhere in the world and have to go rage against that.

I don’t know why this is happening today. I don’t know why right wing clout chasing incels have decided to make this their Thing today. It’s all very confusing, especially a week after the fact.

But I want to put something here that I added to my post on Facebook, that those dudes (it’s always dudes whose entire personality is “MONSTER ENERGY DRINKS!”) need to hear but won’t understand:

A lot of us who had the same visceral reaction to a grown man putting his hands on a child (Elmo is 4 years old) in anger, without consent, and then laughing about it all share an experience that you should be grateful you don't share with us. And when you say your shitty little toxic and cruel thing, when you reduce the whole thing to a puppet and a joke, you're doing to us what the adults around us did when we were kids. And it hurts all over again. Are you really someone who wants to hurt another person simply because you can? Maybe take the impulse to be a jerk and redirect it into being grateful you have no idea why this is so upsetting to so many of us.

Larry David put his hands on another performer, without consent, in a segment he was not part of. That, alone, is not okay. It is not EVER okay. The fact that so many people don’t get that, or are deliberately choosing NOT to get that, is telling.

But as I said, Elmo is a child, and he is a friend to children, so all the kids whose parents were watching the Today Show with them, because Elmo was on to talk about sharing big feelings and caring for your mental health, got to watch this man storm into a set, and angrily attack Elmo.

That’s indefensible behavior, and calling me names doesn’t change that.