#demigoddess! reader

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

A freebie just in case

Again on the steps.

Again you died.

But this time- this time- through the crack in the door you could see... something. Markings and carvings that you didn't understand. And someone? Something?

Had they been the source of the whispers?

_____

Jason stroked a sweat-damp lock of hair away from your face and took your pulse.

Your heart rate was always slow. It crawled now though. "Where do you keep going?" he murmured.

Where did you go? Whenever you did close your eyes, you didn't STAY here. Your body was here, sure. But- it was almost like being in the room with a coma patient. You seemed to be hovering.

If it weren't for the sweat and the tension- well. He'd probably think you were dead. Or close to it.

"Again?" Tim said frowning, keeping his distance while Bruce moved closer.

"She was reading," Jason said. "Magazines Steph found for her. To try and jog- something. Anything."

"Hn."

Jason glanced up at Bruce and frowned. "Don't start-"

"Pulse?" Bruce asked.

"Crawling," Jason said, "But steady. Same as it is every time."

Bruce nodded, frown deepening, "Nothing new?"

"Nothing," Jason said shaking his head. "The only thing she remembers is cold. And scrapes on her hands."

"Consistent, at least," Bruce said.

"But not much to go on."

"No," Bruce sighed. "But at least we know it's true." You'd allowed Diana to use her Lasso. And- well. You really had no memory. You couldn't lie under those conditions. Still too many missing pieces for his liking. And he didn't like the way Jason was looking at you.

[lambiconic]

blessings (price)

ancient greece ! john price x goddess reader

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

John was never a very religious man. 

I mean, he knew of the gods. He believed in the gods.

But he wasn’t the worshipping type. If he passed a temple, he might toss a coin or two. His version of a nod, a casual “Hey, I see you.” But real devotion? Lifelong loyalty to a god? That was never his thing.

No matter how many gods filled the heavens, not one of them ever felt like *his*.

But when he stumbled across *your* temple, something shifted.

It was crumbling. Overrun with vines, half-swallowed by the earth and time itself. Clearly forgotten. Abandoned.

And yet, he felt drawn in, like a thread tugging at his chest.

He stepped past the broken archway, just far enough to stand before the ruined statue at its heart. Moss-covered, weather-worn… but still watching.

He knelt without meaning to, brushing dirt from the placard beneath your feet, reading the name etched into stone. Faded, but not erased.

The Demigoddess of Good Fortune, Sunlight, and Growth.

The words were worn but still legible. Like they refused to be forgotten. Like *you* refused to be forgotten.

He stared at them, heart pounding, the air suddenly warmer around him, lighter somehow.

Sunlight filtered through the cracks in the ruined ceiling, catching the edge of the statue’s broken hand. Your hand…still reaching, still open. 

For him.

He didn’t trust in gods. He never had. 

But in that moment, with dust in his lungs and ivy brushing his shoulders, he whispered your name like a prayer.

After that day, John made a choice. He set out to rebuild your temple.

Stone by stone, vine by vine, he cleared the ruin with calloused hands and stubborn devotion. What started as a passing impulse became a purpose. Years of labor. His own money. His own sweat. No help. No recognition. Just him and the silent echo of your name in the wind.

He spent months sourcing the right materials, and years more crafting your new statue. Shaping it with more care than he’d ever shown another soul. He’d never sculpted before, but still he tried, over and over, until it felt right. Until it felt like you.

He had no idea what you looked like.

Demigods were always harder to trace than their divine parents. Footnotes in old tomes at most, often overshadowed or erased. But you… you barely existed. Nearly invisible. Like the world had tried to forget you on purpose.

Your name appeared only once in all his years of searching. Buried in a dusty old text about Ares, gods, and war. One paragraph. One chilling line.

A slaughter of millions, beneath the gaze of the sun.

It didn’t make sense. You were meant to be the demigoddess of good fortune, sunlight, and growth. Not war. Not death.

The contradiction haunted him.

Had you been cast out? Branded a traitor? Forgotten because of what you’d done…or what they’d *claimed* you did?

Was that why no one spoke your name anymore? Why your temple had fallen to ruin?

And yet, despite it all… he kept building.

“You’ve been working for a long time..”

The voice nearly stopped John’s heart.

It wasn’t loud. Barely more than a whisper but it struck like a thunderclap. His head snapped up, eyes scanning the treeline. No one should be up here. The path was still overgrown, untouched. He hadn’t even carved out proper steps yet.

And yet… there you stood.

Not emerging from the woods. Not stepping out of shadows. Just there, like the sunlight had shaped itself into a woman.

He knew. Instantly.

It was you.

“You’ve captured me quite well,” you said, tilting your head as your eyes moved from him to the statue. Your likeness, standing proud at the center of the newly rebuilt temple.

You gestured lazily toward it, amusement tugging the corners of your mouth. “A little dramatic around the eyes…quite the body, but flattering.”

John couldn’t speak, his throat dry, chest rising fast, pulse thudding in his ears. Awe, disbelief, reverence. It was all there.

And then, quietly, he managed. “You're real.”

You held your hand out in front of you, inspecting yourself as if you’d just now learned this fact yourself. “I am.”

“I…I have so much to ask you—so much to say! I…I…”

John’s voice trembled, his words lost as he slowly circled you, eyes wide with wonder, like you might vanish if he blinked too long.

You didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. You let him look. Let him marvel.

His awe flickered, just for a moment, into hesitation. Fear.

“Did you…” he paused, swallowing hard. “Have you… I read that you killed people.”

“I did.”

The air around you didn’t shift. No darkness crept in. The sun still bathed your figure in gold.

“You slaughtered millions,” he said softly, the words not accusatory. Like even he didn’t believe the things he’d read.

Your lips curled into…something. Not quite a smile. “I tried to save them.”

He watched tension settle in your body, your eyes glossing over as you recalled a memory. “But when gods go to war, it’s rarely the divine who bleed.”

John’s throat tightened. “They cast you out.”

“Well..they needed someone to blame.” You looked toward your statue, sunlight glinting off its face. “So they chose the one who was half-mortal. The one who made things grow. Because when crops die and cities fall, it’s easier to say I turned away. From humans, from Olympus. Than to admit they stopped asking me to help.”

 “I still came when you called, John.” You say, turning to him. “I still helped you grow. Does that ease your hesitation?”

He felt the breath catch in his lungs.

You’d said his name like you’d known it forever. Like it belonged to you. Like you’d crafted him, his being, named him yourself.

“I didn’t…” John started. “I didn’t call you. Not properly. I didn’t even know how.”

You stepped towards him slowly, like you were approaching a startled doe. The light seeming to follow you.

“But you believed in me,” you said softly. “Even when the world had long stopped...”

His hands balled at his sides. “I didn’t do it to summon anything. I just… you were forgotten. It didn’t feel right.”

“Most don’t rebuild temples for lost gods out of a sense of fairness,” you replied, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You gave me more than faith. You gave me presence. That’s all it ever takes.”

John looked back at the statue. The hours he’d spent, the cuts on his hands, the late nights carving features he could only guess at. And now here you stood, matching what he imagined more perfectly than reason allowed.

“And now what?” he asked, his voice shaking. “Are you here for good? Are you… going to disappear again?”

You stepped close...so close he could feel warmth radiate from your skin, and gently placed a hand over his chest, right where his heart beat quick and frantic.

“That depends,” you murmured. “Do you want a goddess in your life, John?”

“I already have one,” he whispered, eyes locked to yours. “I just didn’t know she’d answer.”

Your smile deepened, it seemed to make you glow.

“Then I won’t leave.”

[floatyflowers]

Dark! Percy Jackson Reverse Harem x Reader|| Chapter Two

<<< Chapter One

Your eyes widen when you see Chiron being half horse half man.

"You are a centaur"

Chiron chuckles at your shocked expression.

"Indeed, I'm, and I'm here to guide you"

"Thank you, sir"

"Are you not going to greet me, (Wrong name)?"

You turn your eyes to stare at the dark haired dark eyes man with confusion.

"My name is (Y/n)" you correct him before asking "And you are?"

"Dionysus"

"As in the god who has a cult?"

"That's me, I miss my cult"

You nod in agreement, unsure if that was meant to be humor or a genuine confession.

"Yes, I used to rule an entire cult in ancient Greece. They all worshipped me and offered me sacrifices."

You feel a twinge of unease at the thought of being in a cult, especially one led by a god like Dionysus.

Still, you don't want to be rude, so you just smile politely and say.

"That's... great."

Dionysus nods, seemingly satisfied with your response.

"Well then," he says,

"Shall we continue on? I can show you around the camp and introduce you to some of the other demigods."

Chiron frowns, looking at Dionysus, finding his behaviour strange.

Dionysus is never friendly towards any demigod.

But now, he is offering to show you around.

Chiron never understood the gods obsession with you.

He assumed it has something to do with your powers.

"There is no need, but thank you for the offer, Luke showed me around the camp"

You say before turning towards the centaur.

"I will be going now if that's all"

The moment you take your leave, Dionysus sighs in disappointment.

"If only she was my daughter"

°°°

The cabin is all pastel pink and surrounded by flowers and cherubs statues, and it is also close to Aphrodite's cabin, which is not surprising.

But what made you uncomfortable is the glass window in your room.

You will need curtains for that later.

What is surprising is that you found tons of gifts on your bed and your wardrobe is filled with clothes.

And a note that says 'From your beloved grandmother. Aphrodite'

Also there are gifts from different deities.

For example, Hermes gave you a golden caduceus pendant with a blue diamond.

Apollo gave you healing potions.

Ares gifted you a dagger and also has a note with it 'Sharp enough to kill your enemies'

But what astonished you the most is the gift from Etos, it's a music box.

A cherubs music box, when you turn it on, it starts playing very enchanting music.

There is a long letter too.

My sweet demigoddess,

I write to you on this fine day to express my deepest love and adulation for you.

Your strength, courage, and power all demonstrate your divine ancestry, and your beauty and grace shine with the warmth of the sun.

My heart aches for you from far away, and all I desire is to embrace you in my arms and to watch you flourish with all that you are and can be.

This music box is a gift from me, once it starts playing, all monsters will flock away from you.

From your father,

Eros.

The strong fragrance on the letter makes you calm down.

To be honest, you don't hate Eros even though he never was by your side when you grew up.

Maybe the new life for you here, isn't bad after all.

°°°

"Capture the flag? As in fighting other demigods? no thank you"

You say, walking by Percy's side.

The boy showed up at your doorsteps first thing in the morning, and asked you to walk with him.

"Don't worry, I will protect you, if you stay by my side" 

You stop and look at Percy and cross your arms over your chest.

"Why did you tell Luke that I'm your girlfriend?" you inquire.

Percy smiles.

"Because you have always been my girlfriend, remember in grade one where you wanted to marry me and made a promis-"

You quickly stop him, your cheeks heating up from the childhood memories.

"I was a child"

"I don't care, a promise is a promise"

"What if I fall for another?"

Percy shrugs, with the smile still on his face.

"It would be like Icarus flying too close to the sun"

You raise an eyebrow but he continues.

"Another might get close to you but they will never reach you before they fall to their deaths"

Chapter Three >>>

[djuvlipen]

i'm so shook on your rick riordan rb whaaaat. i didn't know aaany of this shit. defending arranged marriage is crazy

the rr crit tag is a very interesting rabbit hole to fall into if you have time, here is a masterpost

the thing with rick (i'm calling him by his first name, in true former pjo fan fashion) is that he doesn't do research when it comes to representation. like he doesn't even do the bare minimum. so samirah (the muslim character in Magnus Chase) is pretty religious but she takes her hijab off in front of the thousands of men who live in walhalla because she "considers them as her relatives". this doesn't make sense. another example; he has a native american character in Heroes of Olympus (piper) and she wears a feather in her hair to "reconnect with her heritage". she's literally just wearing a feather in her hair. and another third example; in Magnus Chase (again), there is a deaf character who is constantly described as being super expressionless (in terms of facial expression), and hard-of-hearing readers have constantly explained why this literally made no sense as being expressive is a p important part of sign language (if i remember correctly)

it is lazy representation, and he is only including it because it gives him some clout among the liberal audience. you can tell it's lazy writing and lazy character work because he never really thinks about how being from [insert ethnic group / sexual orientation / religion] might impact a character's life. example 1: hazel (in HoO) is a 13yo african-american girl who was born in 1928. she dies and comes back to life in the 2010s. it is said she faced horrific racial abuse in the 1930s but this somehow had no real psychological impact on her character, she isn't really shown (although it's stated, but once again that's lazy imo) to be struggling adapting to the 2010s, and like. the massive discrepancy between life as an african-american girl in the 30s and the life of an african-american girl in the 2010s isn't even mentioned. not even once. even though many things happened in the USA between the 1920s and the 2010s wrt civil rights for black people

second example; nico was born in the 1930s fascist italy, his mother fled to the US with him at the start of wwii, then he got stuck in a time loop of which he got out in the 2000s/2010s. he is gay. the impact that growing up in 1930s italy (a fascist and v catholic country) had on his relationship with his sexuality isn't ever brought up. like with hazel, it's vaguely stated but this doesn't have any real impact on his character, it didn't really shape him in any way shape or form. that's unrealistic as fuck

(nico and hazel are canonically hitler's half-siblings. rick didn't really think about how this would have impacted their life or their relationship with hades (hades is hitler's dad). but also he backtracked on demigod!hitler and implied he meant hirohito or mussolini instead. who knows. maybe all three are demigods)

third example; lavinia (in Trials of Apollo) is a jewish roman demigoddess. jewish people were systematically discriminated against in the roman empire. but this is never addressed. and if you're wondering how lavinia and samirah factor in their monotheist religion with the fact that ancient gods exist... this is not explored! they don't have a problem with it, it's barely even addressed!

he just writes straight, white characters and then slap an "oppressed" label on their forehead without really thinking about the implications of what he is writing. he doesn't even google the basic stuff. a lot of his characters are walking stereotypes (leo is the one that comes to my mind rn)

his retelling of greek myths brings nothing to the table. he doesn't bring out new, interesting takes on greek mythology (the way the musical Hadestown does for example). but his goal isn't to depict ancient greek culture and mythology as accurately as possible either (we don't hear about ancient greek cultural holidays, about ancient greek sports, about the olympics, about the tragedies, about the philosophy. misogyny, homophobia and slavery in ancient greece aren't ever brought up. and obviously he did not have to bring it up BUT if he had wanted to actually advocate for women and minorities' rights, as he so often says, i think it's a road he could have easily taken if he had given it just a little thought). so instead we are stuck in a weird limbo where we don't learn anything new but we are also NOT being presented with another perspective on what we already know. it's lazy.

and the misogyny. hera is one of the recurring villains of the books; she is portrayed as the literal embodiement of the "bitch wife/evil stepmother" stereotype, and all the aphrodite children are presented as shallow. the one i'm the most pissed off about is artemis. she requires her hunters to be single and kills the ones who break the rule. in Trials of Apollo, it's revealed this rule ALSO applies to lesbian relationships. so you have this elderly lesbian couple who had to flee from the hunters otherwise they would have been killed. lesbians having to flee their community because they might be killed is a very important conversation to be had but the fact it's treated so lightly (it's mentioned a few times, the lesbian couple feels grateful because artemis actually "let them live" and this whole experience didn't really traumatize them in any way) is a pretty flippant way to handle lesbophobia and femicide. the fact that the perpetrator of lesbophobic violence is artemis (and that it's implied that she has killed lesbians in the past!!) is also particularly distasteful. artemis has long been associated with the feminist movement for refusing to partner with men, for running a female-only group of hunters and being the goddess-protector of pregnant women, mothers and women fleeing male violence. this also erases the fact that the biggest perpetrators of sexist and lesbophobic violence are men.

(and don't get me started on reyna's character)

oh, also. in Heroes of Olympus, Amazon (yes, Jeff Bezos' company) turns out to be actually owned by the Amazons, who are portrayed as a group of female supremacists who wear tight leather clothing and whips. they keep men in cages and use them as slaves. yes, this sounds like the plot of a female supremacy fetishist porn movie

also also. the age gaps. hazel is 13 and in a love triangle with frank (16) and leo (15). now i know three years age gap are not that crazy but i do think a 16yo boy and a 13yo girl are at two very different stages of their life (emotionally, physically, sexually) and when i was in high school, my friends and i always gave our male classmates who dated middle school girls side-eyes. anyway, that's hazel. but there's also sadie (from the Kane Chronicles), a 13yo girl who is in a love triangle with walt (16) and anubis (the god) (> 5000yo. he presents as a teenager though). and you know how this ends? that's right. she dates them both. they are a throuple. this doesn't make sense

anyway i don't agree with all the anti-rick criticism, some stuff that ppl criticize about his books make me roll my eyes bc i think they are really not that big of a deal. but these are the things that i do find pretty problematic. i also wouldn't care that much but i find him (and his fans) very hypocritical. he has vocally criticized jkr many times in the past and he is always presenting himself as the representation writer who actually cares about minorities (like, that's his whole pr), but some of the stuff he has written would definitely have gotten jkr a few dozen of thousands of death threats

[winterzxsoldierz]

Well You Know Me...

Avenger!Bucky Barnes X Goofy!Villain!Reader

Warnings: Reader being an idiot and a flirt, no mentions of Y/N, Reader is a Female and a demigoddess who loves to cause chaos.

Bucky's feet echo along the darkened hall, it's quiet, too quiet for his liking but he keeps moving, he doesn't know why he agreed to come here, to find you, you weren't really a problem per say but you are still on SHIELDS watch list as a threat and after that Loki issue Bucky wasn't taking no chances with you. Bucky gets to a door, it's large and steel, it's nothing out of the ordinary but he's still not lowering his guard knowing you're around, who knows what you'll do. He pushes open the steel double doors and walks in, it's dark, the only light is coming from a purple light in the desk on the corner, he's tense and looking around, he walks in further and feels around for a switch and turns on the lights when he finds it. He has to give it to you, you really have this little evil lair of yours going, with the purple and black furniture, the over dramatic gargoyle statue over the fireplace. He only stares at it blankly.

"Oh what's this? New meat for me to play with?" Bucky jumps out of his skin and turns around quickly, his gun trained on you, he didn't hear you, at all, you just appeared behind him. You smirk and tilt your head, while nothing but mischief gleams in your eyes. "You must be James?" You step closer. "I would give you my name...but that takes the fun out of my game." Bucky just stares not saying a word, his gun still pointed at you and his guard is still up, he was expecting a fight but you just stared at him like a child with a new toy to torment, you had a plate of pizza in your hand and a soda pop in the other.

"What are you doing?" Bucky asks, his eyes narrowed and weary. You laugh and shake your head "I'm on break duh, Evil people need food to." You bite a slice of pizza and grin at him. "Want some?" You say, outstretching your arm to hand him the plate with a raised brow. "No. i don't want your pizza." He scoffs, a grumpy frown forming on his face. "Okay first off rude, i'm not black death, secondly can you please put your gun away, i'm not gonna bite you....Yet."

Bucky's eyes roll, this was gonna be a long night, a very long night....

Two weeks later... "Hey James!" Again you catch Bucky off guard when he walks into your lair, this time though he has you in a headlock and of course you're grinning like an idiot, "Save these tricks for the bedroom James, you haven't even bought me flowers yet." he scowls and let's go of you "Shut up brat, the only flowers you'll get from me is at your funeral is when i kill you." your jaw goes slack and for a minute it's quiet, before a large grin appears on your lips, "Holy shit, that was hot, i knew you could flirt." Bucky blinks, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, he's only known you for a week and you're already driving him up a wall. "Shut up." Bucky grumbles and pushes past you into your lair. "Where is it?" Bucky asks. "Where's what?" You ask innocently. "The gun, with the green squiggly things, that shoots fire, that gun?"

Bucky demands, and stares at you. "Ohhh...that gun, his name is Blaze, and i don't have it."

You lie, Bucky is unamused, and waits for you to tell him. "You won't intimidate me." Your arms cross over your chest and you smirk, i can't give you Blaze, he's the best thing ever created since ultron" You smirk mischievously and chuckle at the look on Bucky's face, until you cave. "Fine, if i give it, will you protect him? it took me forever to birth him." "I'm not promising anything" Bucky grumbles and holds out his hand as you place the gun in his hand. "I'm going now." Bucky turns on his heels and begins to leave but you call out to him. "You know, you could at least leave your phone number since you're taking my son."

you knew he heard as he left and you can't help but laugh. you knew these encounters wouldn't end anytime soon.

i will post part two soon. let me know if this is good🖤

Part two here<-

[ukulelevillainwrites]

the guy with the list

one shot

Pairing: george karim x f!reader

Word count: 1.5k

Summary: George can't pick up on social cues so he makes a list

Comment: short little surprise george drabble for all the george fans out there, just a fluffy little fic on this rainy sunday afternoon

@maraschinomerry @neewtmas @avdiobliss @oblivious-idiot @bella-rose29 @bobbys-not-that-small @demigoddess-of-ghosts

George was terrible at picking up on social cues. He couldn’t take a hint to save his life. He learned that the hard way when Lucy moved in. Or at least what he thought was the hard way. He put his foot in his mouth enough times when y/n was around to really grasp the concept of embarrassment. He didn’t use to care about those things. Until she came around.

He had been oblivious to her signs, her flirting, her teasing. He took everything literally, including Lucy’s exaggerated looks or winks, which he mistook for dust getting in her eye. The first three months of their platonic relationship had been a landmine of misunderstandings and avoidable hurt feelings. So, when they finally managed to get their words out and address what was clearly going on – according to Lucy – he wanted to avoid useless fights as much as possible. For this purpose, he had started a list. Well, more like lists. Plural. One wasn’t enough to cover everything.

He reached for the notebook he kept in the third drawer of his desk. It had been the first one he had managed to find empty that night. His mind was still reeling from the look in her eyes, which he was able to interpret in hindsight as fondness. The way her hand had reached for his, her touch featherlight against his skin. The light tug at his wrist, which meant she wanted him to get closer, he noted. The soft, barely perceptible smile, tugging at the corner of her mouth. The hypnotic pink of her lips, which didn’t require any interpretation, he was just fascinated by it. Her nose tilting up and her eyes fluttering shut. He hadn’t believed in magic, but maybe he did now. He dealt with the supernatural every day, but nothing was more out of this world than the feeling of her lips against his. At that moment he had acted on instinct. Looking back, he wondered how he had known to put his arms around her waist, one hand pressed against the small of her back. How he had known to draw her closer. How he had known to deepen the kiss just enough to take the lead. How had he known when to pull back and look into her eyes? And how could he ever do it again if he didn’t understand that?

His first entry had been messy, trying to capture the moment, to immortalize the feeling forever. He didn’t want to forget it for anything in the world. But it had only brought more fears, more insecurities and doubts. How would he ever make her as happy as he had felt just a few moments ago? He needed to sort this out, into categories, lists by themes. He would be more observant, more attentive, more everything if it meant keeping her happy.

On the second page of his notebook, he had listed her looks. The fond look he had first written about, trying to describe it in vivid detail, blushing as the words filled the page.

He hadn’t needed to think about it for too long before the list grew more extensive. He thought of the way she gazed at him with bright eyes and smile lines tugging at their corner, usually followed by a playful, mostly harmless provocation; her teasing look he loved so much. She usually looked more exasperated when she made a sarcastic comment, most of the time at Lockwood for being too prideful. Lucy had called him out when she caught him smiling to himself when she did that. He also listed the way her eyes sparkled when she was full of enthusiasm. The way her eyes seemed muted when she said she was fine, but she really wasn’t. The thinly veiled fury when she said she was fine and she was, as long as you don’t mess with her. The disdainful one – that one was for Kipps. The eye roll that made him smile.

Further down the line he had managed to catch the stolen glances too, that had a mischievous air to them. He prayed he’d never have to see sadness in her eyes ever again. But if he did, he knew that a hug, a cup of green tea with bergamot and a piece of dark chocolate would do the trick.

He turned the page and remembered how Lucy had helped with a few hints, before he had caught on to y/n’s insinuations. Specifically, he had been dense about body language. He had been shocked to learn that the way she rested her hand lightly on his forearm when they were sitting at the kitchen table, talking seemingly innocently, hadn’t been so innocent. But it wasn’t like the way she bit her lower lip. The forearm touch was fondness. The lip thing was attraction. He had blushed when Lucy had told him that last part. When he had first asked y/n why she was doing that with her mouth, she had said something about dry lips and lip balm. Weird how she always seemed to have this issue when he was on chain duty.

Now that they were closer – a lot closer – he got to enjoy a whole new flourish of soft touches and attentions. She preferred to hug in the morning, the sleepier she looked, the longer the hug. He noted that it was worth extra point if he nuzzled her head in the crook of his neck with a kiss at the top of her head. He knew this because she hugged his waist tighter when he did it that one time. He also knew that if he took her hand in his and kissed the top of it, she would look fondly at him and stroke his neck, so he did. A lot. He knew that playing with her hair helped her fall asleep. After tough cases he always insisted for her to sleep in his bed, so he could watch over her and make sure she slept through the night.

He smiled reading through all her likes and dislikes, finding pieces of her in her tastes he had learned by heart. A unique brand of chocolate, a tea for each time of day. Flowers for every occasion and movies for every mood. His finger traced over the page. He was holding a piece of her in those words, his scribbled notes forming a portrait of her looking at him with a tender smile.

He could spend hours analyzing her smile. She loved to communicate with unsaid words. She preferred to look at him with a tug at her lips and a raise of eyebrows. Their own secret language. “They are so gone for each other,” she would say silently with curled lips whenever Lockwood and Lucy would stare at each other in that intense way they did. It happened often enough that it had earned a spot in the list.

“Nice work with the research,” was the subtitle of what he called her professional smile.

“Thanks for having my back,” was expressed with a shy, almost embarrassed smile.

He sometimes found her holding back a laugh, when she forced her lips to behave in front of a client to not give anything away. Uncontrollable tears always formed at the corner of her eyes and smile lines rose to her eyes despite her best efforts. Once the coast was clear, the dam would finally break with wrinkles on her nose and the laugh he loved so much finally escaping. He would do anything just to hear it again.

His favorite smile of all was always the one reserved for him, the one that matched her sparkling eyes when it was just them. It held too much power, because she knew he could never resist it. He was drawn to it. If she looked at him that way she knew he would have his forehead against hers in seconds, gazing at her with a matching intensity.

He often went over the lists before going to sleep, hoping sleeping on it would help him memorizing it faster. Last night however, he forgot to put it away. He only realized the mistake when he found her standing in his room, notebook in hand, with an unreadable expression on her face. That look wasn’t part of the list yet. His heart dropped to his feet when he noticed the tears forming in her eyes. This was a mistake. Guys who made lists didn’t have the best reputation from what he was told. He blushed with shame as he crossed the threshold of his room, stepping into what he expected to be their first fight. Maybe their last one too.

She turned around and a tear rolled down her cheek. Before he could apologize, she pulled him into a hug, her arms tightly wrapped around him. He couldn’t breathe, both out of surprise and because of the tight embrace.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice.

“This is the most attentive and caring thing anyone has ever done. I love you.”

“I love you too,” he answered, smiling as he kissed the top of her hair.

He held her close, relief flooding him. Those were happy tears. He needed a new list.  

[siswritesyanderes]

okay so the best characters that came out of descendants were clearly the sea 3, and harry's half a step from a yandere for uma already [everyone say thank you fandom!], but do you think that uma and gil could catch up? Do they have different strategies depending on if they're focusing on each over versus a Reader?

All correct, lol!

So yeah, like you said, Harry pretty much just IS yandere for Uma as his status quo, lol.

Uma is a very fun intersection of "slow to trust new people" (since Mal betrayed her trust when they were kids) and "highly protective of the vulnerable", which honestly lends itself pretty well to yandere, under the right conditions.

First of all, within the Sea Three, the most outwardly yandere she'll be toward Harry and Gil will usually happen when they're injured or outmatched and require the full protection of a sea goddess/demigoddess. She'll demolish anyone who seriously harms her boys.

For an X Reader scenario, especially if it's Sea Three X Reader, I think the ideal character type to bring out the most interesting flavors of yandere in all three of them would be someone who can't fight, someone in obvious immediate danger, and someone who openly admires Uma.

I'm thinking, Reader is an Auradon kid who got sent to the Isle for politically defiant artwork or something of the sort. You're lost and scared and incapable of defending yourself from the villains and the meaner VKs. Maybe you're about to be cornered by the Stabbingtons and then Uma saves you. (Or Harry or Gil. It's an easier fast-track to the openly-admires-Uma character trait if Uma is the one who saves you, or for the D2 parallel, I could say Gil is the one who finds you, but I think I'll actually go with Harry for this. He doesn't get a ton of opportunities to come across as a hero.)

"Y-You saved me," you say, still trembling as Harry, with lethal grace, shakes the blood from his sword and saunters up to stand over your fallen form. He offers you a hand and a wry smile.

He takes you to Uma. You cling to him for the whole walk to the Chip Shoppe, and he laughs at you (and enjoys being treated as a comfort instead of a loose cannon).

He walks you into the Chip Shoppe and deposits you in the kitchen, where Uma is washing dishes. Her sharp, magnetic gaze lands on you, and you feel momentarily as if you should be doing some kind of gesture. Bow? Curtsy? That semi-formal dip of acknowledgement you do for nobles who are snobby enough to expect that sort of thing? She doesn't seem...snobby. But she manages to have a regal bearing, even as she washes dishes.

She smirks, and her gaze climbs to Harry. "You remembered."

"'Course I did, Captain," he said, soaking up her praise. "Mind, the Stabbingtons thought they'd have a piece, but I daresay they've learned better." He hands her a towel, and she dries her hands. They have a natural ebb and flow to their movements, almost symbiotic, like they know what to expect from each other at all times.

"I saw your hearing on TV," Uma says, addressing you for the first time. "Wasn't surprised they screwed you over."

Basically, she kept track of when you'd be arriving and she sent Harry to claim you on her behalf before you could fall victim to any of the Isle's bad actors. She treats you a bit like an indulged pet. Not in a wholly demeaning way, but she's in charge and you don't know anything about surviving on the Isle, so the vibe is definitely one where she lets you sit by her throne because you're adorable.

Uma, Harry, and Gil are all very protective and territorial.

Uma's protectiveness is all about sending a message. If someone harms or threatens you, her highest priority is making sure everyone knows that was a mistake. She'll make an example of them, usually via Harry.

Harry's protectiveness is most obviously in the realm of deliberate cruelty toward anyone who threatens you, looks at you wrong, flirts with you, etc. Actually, maybe not so much the latter. He definitely gets jealous when people compete for Uma's attention, but he might be more permissive about you flirting and being flirted with by other people. The relationship is just different. Still super protective, so he'll threaten them with what he'll do to them if they hurt you, but he also might joke with you if you have a crush on anyone. The Isle isn't as monogamous as Auradon.

But there's an understanding that Uma should really be the main person in your life. This isn't so much enforced by Uma. She is the jealous type, but she would never admit or express it to you, because she finds it to be a vulnerable feeling that she can't express with new people. Harry takes it upon himself to be the enforcer, in that regard. You're not allowed to make Uma feel like she's not the most important person in the world.

So yeah, he'll tease you if some child of one of the Dumbo clowns makes you blush, and he'll smirk knowingly as you flirt with them or have a small fling, if that's how things go, but the moment that person seems to become important in your life, he reminds you that Uma is the one who sent her protection to you when you were dumped on the Isle alone and vulnerable. Uma placed you under her protection. You shouldn't let anyone divide your loyalties.

He's very intense about her. He's very intense in general, but she's who he's most intense about.

Gil's protectiveness is accompanied by a lot of showing off. He likes getting to use his strength, and the flipside of his golden retriever energy is that he is just as excited to fight as he is to hug. He's lowkey vicious. He's not cruel like Harry, in that he's not focused on the suffering of whoever has harmed or threatened you; his focus is on triumphing over them. It's like play, to him.

He's also very cuddly and easy to talk to. And it helps that he's kind of in the pet-zone with Uma and Harry, most of the time, too. Again, in a good way. You might be spending the most time with Gil, out of all three of them.

The time that Uma spends with you always feels like an honor. Her crew worships her, and when she gives any of them singular attention, they revel in it. When she pets your hair (even though you just got here!) they're sooo jealous.

But, essentially, you're a little discarded Auradon treasure. A trinket that Harry fetched for her, that she keeps polished and safe.

[blueberrisdove-sideblog]

imagine that in the past the reader was also a demigoddess and after her death and the death of Mydei they become titans who lose their memory and sensitivity to each other. But they remember everything, remember their desire for a friend and a friend. Then they fuck and Mydei says that we will become his wife, if in that life he did not have time, then now we are his forever, and he wants us to become his wife

What if mydei is the wife..

[atlasthegreatest]

Mystic and Wonder / Cassandra Sandsmark x Doctor Strange! Male Reader

Y/n Strange senses a dangerous mystical disturbance and realizes he can’t handle the threat alone. Seeking assistance, he reaches out to Cassandra Sandsmark, also known as Wonder Girl. And despite the urgency of the situation, Cassandra wastes no time playfully flirting with the Sorcerer Supreme, clearly enjoying how easily she can make him flustered.

Word count: 4711

A/n: This was requested by an anon. Enjoy it!

The Sanctum Sanctorum was unusually quiet tonight. Too quiet. The air crackled with lingering traces of magic as Y/n Strange stood in his study, flipping through an ancient tome. The threat he sensed earlier still gnawed at him—an unknown force creeping at the edges of reality, waiting for the right moment to strike.

He needed help.

With a flick of his wrist, a portal shimmered to life, revealing a different part of the world. Specifically, Washington, D.C. And more importantly, her.

Cassandra Sandsmark. Wonder Girl.

The golden-haired demigoddess was in the middle of sparring at the Hall of Justice, effortlessly dodging and countering attacks from her training partner. The moment she noticed the portal, her lips curled into a smirk, curiosity dancing in her eyes. She parried one last attack, knocked her opponent down (a little harder than necessary), and strode toward Y/n without a hint of hesitation.

“Doctor Strange,” she said teasingly, stepping through the portal with ease. “What’s the matter? Did you finally realize you need a little Wonder in your life?”

Y/n sighed, already regretting this. “I wouldn’t have come to you if it wasn’t important.”

“Uh-huh,” the blonde demigoddess hummed, crossing her arms. “So you do need me.”

Y/n shot her a look before snapping his fingers, causing the portal to close behind her. “There’s a disturbance in the magical field—something powerful is trying to break through. I need an extra set of hands, and you’re one of the strongest warriors I know.”

Cassandra tilted her head, eyes flickering with amusement. “Flattery? Keep talking, Doctor, I like where this is going.”

Y/n cleared his throat, ignoring the way his face felt slightly warmer. “Anyway—I believe this could be tied to an ancient being attempting to breach our reality. I need someone strong enough to hold them while I perform the sealing ritual.”

The Amazon took a step closer, just enough that Y/n could catch the faint scent of sandalwood and something uniquely her. “So let me get this straight—you want me by your side, helping you save the world?”

“That’s… one way to put it.”

Cassandra grinned, resting a hand on the sorcerer’s shoulder. “You know, if you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked me out instead of summoning me for an emergency.”

Y/n’s brain stalled for half a second. “W-What?”

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, a magical battle sounds like an exciting first date,” she said, leaning in just enough to make the man’s pulse jump. “But I was thinking more along the lines of dinner. Maybe somewhere nice? Or are you the type who prefers mysterious candlelit studies filled with arcane books?”

The sorcerer opened his mouth, only for nothing to come out immediately. It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it before—Cassandra was Cassandra, after all. Confident, beautiful, and effortlessly charming. But he was Doctor Strange. He had responsibilities, and a duty to protect reality.

And yet…

“I—uh…” Y/n rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling the weight of her gaze. “Are you seriously asking me out while we’re discussing a world-threatening crisis?”

Cassandra chuckled. “Multitasking. But hey, if we survive this, dinner’s on you.”

Y/n exhaled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Fine. If we make it through this, I’ll take you to dinner.”

Her eyes brightened with victory. “It’s a date, then.”

Y/n turned, summoning another portal to their destination. Even as the looming battle waited ahead, a part of him couldn’t help but smile.

Perhaps this wasn’t the worst deal he’d ever made. And he'd make worsen.

The portal shimmered as Y/n and Cassandra stepped through, emerging atop an ancient temple hidden deep within a jungle. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and magic, the ruins humming with an eerie energy. Strange symbols glowed along the temple walls, pulsing like a heartbeat. Whatever was trying to break through… it was getting close.

Cassandra placed her hands on her hips, surveying the area. “You know, for a first date, I was expecting something a little more romantic. Candles, music, maybe less impending doom.”

Y/n let out a dry chuckle, adjusting his Cloak of Levitation. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t usually take my dates to places teetering on the edge of reality collapse.”

“Wait—” Cassandra’s grin widened. “So you do take dates out?”

Y/n faltered for half a second, realizing what he just admitted. “That’s— I— that’s not the point right now,” he said quickly, clearing his throat. “The point is that something is trying to break through this temple’s seal, and we need to stop it before it does.”

Cassandra smirked but let it slide—for now. “Alright, Doctor. What are we dealing with?”

Y/n moved to the center of the ruins, holding his hands over an ancient pedestal. The air shimmered, revealing a translucent image of a monstrous entity clawing at the boundaries between realms.

“A Dormammu-class entity,” the sorcerer explained. “It’s been feeding on the ley lines around this temple, weakening the barrier between dimensions.” Y/n traced a sigil in the air, and golden runes flickered to life. “I can reinforce the seal, but I need time. That means keeping whatever comes through at bay.”

Cassandra rolled her shoulders, cracking her knuckles. “So you handle the magic, I handle the punching. Got it.” She pulled out her Lasso of Lightning, golden strands sparking as she twirled it effortlessly. “You know, I think I like this team-up already.”

Before Y/n could respond, the ground trembled beneath their feet. The air split apart like shattered glass, and from the cracks in reality, a towering creature emerged. It was all shadow and writhing tendrils, eyes like burning stars staring hungrily at the world beyond.

“Great,” he muttered. “It’s early.”

Cassandra didn’t hesitate. “Hey, ugly!” she called, launching herself at the creature with a burst of divine strength. She slammed into it with enough force to send a shockwave through the air, her lasso wrapping around one of its limbs. Electricity surged through the beast, making it screech in pain.

Y/n wasted no time, weaving spells with precision, and tracing protective wards into the air. The entity thrashed against Cassandra’s hold, but she held firm, every movement effortless and controlled. She was strong—incredibly strong.

“How’s that spell coming, Doc?” she called, dodging a swipe from the creature’s massive claw.

“Almost there!” Y/n replied, fingers moving rapidly as golden sigils locked into place. He could feel the energy shifting, the seal reforming—until the beast roared, sending a blast of pure chaotic energy toward him.

Before he could react, Cassandra was there.

The Amazon landed in front of him, bracing herself as the blast hit her dead-on. The shockwave sent dust and debris flying, but when the smoke cleared, she was still standing, her arms crossed. She looked over her shoulder at Y/n, winking.

“That’s twice I’ve saved you tonight,” she teased. “You definitely owe me dinner now.”

Y/n let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Fine—just keep that thing busy!”

Cassandra turned back to the monster with a grin. “With pleasure.”

With renewed force, she launched into battle once more, her movements fluid and powerful. It was impossible not to admire her—her confidence, her sheer presence.

Shaking off his distraction, Y/n returned his focus to the spell. The final glyph locked into place, the air around him igniting with golden energy.

“Now, Cassandra!” the sorcerer called.

The Amazon nodded, gripping the lasso tightly. With a mighty pull, she yanked the creature toward the rift just as Y/n unleashed the spell. The air crackled, and the beast let out a final screech as it was dragged back into the void. The portal sealed shut with a thunderous boom, and the ruins fell silent once more.

Cassandra dusted off her hands, turning to Y/n with an easy smile. “Well, that was fun.”

Y/n exhaled, the exhaustion finally hitting him. “That’s one way to describe it.”

The blonde demigoddess walked up to him, close enough that he could see the amusement in her bright blue eyes. “So, about that date—”

Y/n rubbed the back of his neck, the realization settling in. “You’re actually serious about that, aren’t you?”

She arched a brow. “Doctor, I just saved your life twice and helped stop a reality-ending disaster. The least you can do is buy me dinner.”

Y/n opened his mouth to argue but found himself… oddly flustered. It wasn’t just the adrenaline; it was her. The way she looked at him, the confidence in her stance, the sheer charm she radiated.

Y/n sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. “Alright. Fine. Dinner it is.”

Cassandra grinned. “Good choice. Just don’t make me wait too long—I’m not known for my patience.”

Y/n gestured, summoning another portal. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

As they both stepped through, Y/n couldn’t help but wonder: had he just made a deal with something even more powerful than the forces of the cosmos?

Possibly.

And strangely, he didn’t mind.

——————————

The portal shimmered as Y/n and Cassandra stepped back into the Sanctum Sanctorum, the familiar warmth of his study replacing the eerie energy of the jungle ruins. The battle was over, the rift was sealed, and yet, despite the exhaustion tugging at him, one thought lingered in his mind.

Did he just agree to a date with Cassandra Sandsmark?

Y/n glanced at her as she strolled through his study, taking in the arcane artifacts and shelves stacked with ancient tomes. She whistled, picking up a small, glowing relic and inspecting it with clear amusement.

“I gotta admit, Doc, your place has a certain… mysterious charm to it,” she said, rolling the relic between her fingers before setting it back down. “I can see why some people might find this whole sorcerer thing attractive.”

Y/n crossed his arms, leveling a look at her. “Some people?”

The Amazon smirked, stepping closer. “Well, one person in particular.”

And there it was again—that effortless confidence, the way she spoke as if everything was a game and she was always three moves ahead. Y/n wasn’t used to this. Not that he was inexperienced with women, but Cassandra had a way of keeping him off balance.

The man cleared his throat. “I still don’t understand why you’re so insistent on this whole… date thing.”

Cassandra tilted her head, pretending to think. “Hmm. Maybe because you’re interesting? Smart, powerful, kinda broody, but in a way that’s more ‘mysterious protector’ than ‘emotionally unavailable.’” She gave the sorcerer a playful nudge. “And let’s be real, watching you get flustered is adorable.”

Y/n instinctively reached up to adjust his Cloak, using the movement as an excuse to avoid looking at the Amazon for a moment. “I am not flustered,” he muttered.

Cassandra’s laughter was warm, lighthearted. “Sure, Doctor.”

Y/n exhaled, forcing himself to regain composure. “Fine. You want dinner? I’ll take you to dinner.”

Cassandra’s smile widened. “Now we’re talking.”

“But,” he added, “I pick the place.”

The Amazon held up her hands in mock surrender. “Deal. Just don’t take me somewhere boring.”

Y/n raised an eyebrow. “Do I seem like the kind of man who does boring?”

Cassandra’s grin turned mischievous. “We’ll see.”

With a flick of his wrist, Y/n conjured another portal—not to some war-torn battlefield or ancient ruin, but to a cozy, dimly lit restaurant hidden away in the heart of New York City. A place that wasn’t on any map, existing somewhere between the physical and the mystical.

Cassandra stepped through first, glancing around with an impressed nod. “Okay, I’ll admit it. This is a solid choice.”

The sorcerer followed after her, letting the portal close behind him. “I told you—not boring.”

The Amazon slid into a seat, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the man in front of her. “So, Doctor Strange,” she mused. “Tell me—what does the Sorcerer Supreme even talk about on a date?”

Y/n sighed, shaking his head with a small smile. “I have absolutely no idea.”

Cassandra chuckled. “Good. That makes two of us.”

For the first time in a long while, Y/n allowed himself to relax. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

——————————

The restaurant was unlike any typical dining spot in New York—hidden between dimensions, existing in a pocket of space only accessible to those attuned to the mystic arts. The warm glow of floating lanterns bathed the intimate space in golden light, casting flickering shadows against the dark wooden walls inscribed with ancient runes.

Cassandra looked around, clearly intrigued. “I’ll give you credit, Strange—this is definitely not boring.” She leaned back in her chair, crossing one leg over the other. “Do all your dates happen in secret interdimensional hideouts?”

Y/n smirked as he removed your Cloak of Levitation, draping it over the chair. “Only the special ones.”

The Amazon arched an eyebrow. “So I’m special?”

Y/n hesitated for half a second, realizing his choice of words had given her even more material to tease him with. “That’s… not what I meant.”

Cassandra grinned, obviously enjoying how easily she could get under the man’s skin. “Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that, Doctor.”

Before Y/n could respond, a waiter—if you could call a floating, translucent entity a “waiter”—drifted over to the table. The being hummed with arcane energy, its form shifting between different shapes as it handed Y/n and Cassandra menus written in glowing script.

Cassandra tilted her head as she studied the menu. “So, what’s good here? Because I’m not sure if I should be concerned that half of these dishes sound like incantations.”

Y/n chuckled, appreciating her ability to take things in stride. “The cuisine here is… unique. Some dishes are enchanted to enhance flavor, others to improve energy and focus.” The sorcerer pointed to an item on the menu. “That one, for example, is said to bring clarity of mind.”

Cassandra smirked. “Yeah, I don’t need any more clarity. I already know I’m into you.”

Y/n nearly dropped his menu.

Cassandra, as expected, looked thoroughly entertained by his reaction. “I swear, this is way too easy.”

Y/n cleared his throat, regaining some semblance of composure. “You’re impossible.”

The Amazon rested her chin on her hand, watching the sorcerer with amusement. “And yet, you still agreed to dinner with me. Makes you wonder, huh?”

Y/n shook his head, biting back a smile as the waiter returned to take their orders. Cassandra—ever the adventurer—told the entity to surprise her, while Y/n ordered something more familiar.

As the waiter floated away, Cassandra leaned forward slightly, curiosity flickering in her blue eyes. “So tell me, Doctor—when you’re not out saving reality from collapsing, what do you do for fun?”

Y/n blinked. “Fun?”

“Yeah, fun,” she repeated, swirling the condensation on her glass with her finger. “Or is the great Sorcerer Supreme always brooding and solving cosmic crises?”

Y/n considered the question for a moment. It had been a long time since someone asked him about his personal life—outside of magic, outside of duty. “I read,” he admitted. “Study new spells, expand my knowledge.”

Cassandra arched an eyebrow. “Nerd.”

Y/n rolled his eyes. “You asked.”

The blonde demi goddess grinned. “Come on, there’s gotta be something else. What about hobbies? Music? Movies? Do you even have a favorite food?”

Y/n hesitated, the normalcy of the conversation catching him off guard. “I… suppose I enjoy classical music. Jazz, sometimes. And as for food, I have a preference for simpler dishes—though I do have a weakness for good tea.”

Cassandra studied the man for a moment before shaking her head. “Man, you really are all business, huh?”

Y/n frowned slightly. “And what about you? What do you do when you’re not out saving the world?”

The Amazon leaned back in her chair, shrugging. “Training, mostly. Hanging out with Donna, bugging Diana, causing a little mischief when I can.” She smirked. “And, you know, flirting with handsome sorcerers in my free time.”

Y/n sighed. “Of course.”

Cassandra laughed, then rested her arms on the table, her expression softening just a little. “But seriously? I like experiencing new things. Life’s too short to waste time hesitating. That’s why I go after what I want.”

Y/n met her gaze, feeling a shift in the air between them. There was a sincerity beneath her playful nature—an undeniable confidence that drew him in.

For the first time in a long while, he felt… present. Not weighed down by the responsibility of guarding the multiverse. Not trapped in the endless cycle of duty and sacrifice. Just here, in this moment, with her.

The food arrived, breaking the quiet tension, and Cassandra immediately dug in, her expression lighting up as she took her first bite. “Okay, this? Really good.”

Y/n chuckled, taking a bite of his meal. “I told you I don’t do boring.”

She winked. “That’s why I like you, Doc.”

Y/n shook his head, but for once, he didn’t argue.

Maybe—just maybe—Cassandra Sandsmark was exactly the kind of chaos he needed in his life.

Bonus Chapter:

A few nights had passed since Y/n’s unexpected—yet undeniably enjoyable—date with Cassandra Sandsmark. The sorcerer wasn’t sure how to categorize what was happening between them, but one thing was certain: Cassandra had a way of keeping him on his toes.

And tonight was no exception.

Y/n had been deep in study, his focus locked onto an ancient tome detailing the unstable nature of certain dimensional rifts when the faint crackle of divine energy rippled through the Sanctum Sanctorum.

The sorcerer didn’t even need to look up. “Cassandra.”

A voice filled with amusement responded from behind him. “You know, most guys would at least pretend to be surprised when a beautiful woman sneaks into their place uninvited.”

Y/n sighed, closing the book with a quiet thud before turning around. Sure enough, Cassandra stood in the middle of his study, looking far too pleased with herself. She had teleported inside—again—despite Y/n’s very specific spells designed to prevent such intrusions.

Arms crossed, Y/n gave her a pointed look. “I really should reinforce those wards.”

The Amazon smirked. “You could try. But let’s be honest, you kinda like having me around.”

Y/n didn’t dignify that with an answer.

Cassandra strolled closer, casually picking up one of his artifacts from a nearby table. The golden ring glowed faintly in her palm, its inscriptions shifting as if responding to her presence. “You’ve got some interesting things lying around, Doc.”

Y/n plucked the artifact from her hands with a flick of his wrist, making it disappear in a swirl of magic. “And you have a habit of touching things you shouldn’t.”

Cassandra grinned. “Guilty as charged.”

The sorcerer shook his head, exasperated but—if he was honest with himself—not annoyed. Something was refreshing about her unpredictable energy. After years of dealing with the weight of magic and its consequences, having someone like Cassandra breeze into his life felt… different.

Unpredictable.

And, perhaps, dangerously tempting.

She hopped onto the edge of your desk, swinging her legs casually. “So, I was thinking…”

Y/n arched an eyebrow. “That’s never a good sign.”

The Amazon ignored his comment. “Since you dragged me into your whole ‘reality-ending disaster’ last time, I figured it’s only fair that I drag you into my world for a bit.”

Y/n gave her a skeptical look. “And what exactly does that entail?”

A mischievous glint flashed in her eyes. “A night out.”

The sorcerer blinked. “A what?”

“A night out,” The demi-goddess repeated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “No magic, no interdimensional threats—just a normal, fun night. You do remember what fun is, right?”

Y/n crossed his arms. “And what exactly does ‘fun’ entail in Cassandra Sandsmark’s world?”

She smirked. “You’ll just have to come with me to find out.”

Y/n stared at her for a moment, debating whether this was a terrible idea. On one hand, he had pressing magical research to attend to. On the other hand…

Cassandra was looking at him like she already knew he was going to say yes.

Y/n exhaled, rubbing his temple. “Fine.”

Her face lit up. “I knew you’d cave!”

“I didn’t cave—”

“Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, Doc.” The Amazon hopped off his desk, grabbing Y/n’s wrist before he could even think about changing his mind. “Now come on, let’s get out of here before you remember how to be boring again.”

Y/n barely had time to protest before she whisked him away—no divine teleportation, no magic. Just Cassandra, pulling him out of his comfort zone with nothing more than a mischievous grin.

And against all logic, the sorcerer found himself not minding one bit.

—————————

The moment Cassandra pulled him through the doors of a dimly lit rooftop bar, Y/n knew he was completely out of his element. The place was buzzing with energy—music thrummed through the air, neon lights cast a soft glow over the sleek modern decor, and people were scattered across the space, chatting, laughing, and drinking like they didn’t have a care in the world.

Cassandra let go of his wrist, turning to face him with a triumphant smirk. “See? Normal fun. No mystical artifacts, no dimensional rifts—just a good time.”

Y/n sighed, adjusting his coat. “I don’t exactly… do places like this.”

“Yeah, I figured,” The Amazon said, leading the way toward the bar. “Which is exactly why we’re here.”

The sorcerer followed reluctantly, his senses still trying to adjust to the sheer normalcy of it all. No eldritch whispers in the air, no arcane auras lingering around objects—just the steady hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter from a nearby table.

Cassandra slid onto a barstool and gestured for the man to do the same. “Come on, Doctor, take a seat. You do sit, right?”

Y/n rolled his eyes but complied, resting his hands on the counter. The bartender approached—a man with a cybernetic eye and a glowing tattoo running down his arm. Y/n wasn’t sure if that was just a fashion choice or if there was something actually mystical about him.

Cassandra tapped the counter. “I’ll have a whiskey neat.”

The bartender nodded and looked at the sorcerer.

Y/n hesitated. It had been a long time since he’d had a casual drink. He typically preferred tea, something grounding—but Cassandra was already watching him with an expectant grin.

Y/n sighed. “Old fashioned.”

Cassandra’s smirk widened. “See? You do have taste.”

The bartender left to make their drinks, and Cassandra turned her attention fully to Y/n, resting her chin on her hand. “Alright, Strange—since we’re playing by my rules tonight, no brooding, no lectures about the fabric of reality, and no sneaking off to ‘go check on something.’ You’re stuck with me for the night.”

The sorcerer scoffed. “I wasn’t planning on sneaking off.”

The demi-goddess gave him a look.

Y/n exhaled, shaking his head. “Fine. I’ll play along.”

“Good,” she said, looking satisfied. “Now, let’s talk about something not magic-related. Like… have you ever been in a bar fight?”

Y/n blinked. “What?”

“A bar fight,” The Amazon repeated, amused. “Because you look like the kind of guy who got into one before the whole ‘Sorcerer Supreme’ gig.”

Y/n hesitated for a moment before sighing. “…Once.”

Cassandra grinned. “Knew it. What happened?”

Y/n rubbed his temple, recalling the memory. “It was during my residency. I was arrogant—thought I could say whatever I wanted to someone without consequences. Turns out, some people don’t take well to that.”

Cassandra laughed. “Let me guess—you got punched?”

“More than once,” the man admitted.

She shook her head, still grinning. “I would’ve paid to see that.”

“Yes, I’m sure watching me get knocked around is very amusing to you,” Y/n deadpanned.

Cassandra chuckled. “Hey, at least you survived. Besides, you’re a little less insufferable now, so maybe you did learn something.”

The bartender returned, setting their drinks down. Cassandra grabbed hers immediately, raising her glass slightly toward the sorcerer’s. “To a night of not saving the world.”

Y/n hesitated for half a second before mirroring her motion. “To whatever this is.”

They both took a sip, the warmth of the drink spreading through them.

Cassandra leaned back, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “So, Doctor… do I get a second date after this?”

Y/n nearly choked on his drink. “Cassandra—”

She laughed, reaching over to tap the rim of his glass with her finger. “Relax, Doc. I’m just messing with you.”

Y/n gave her a skeptical look. “Are you, though?”

She smirked. “Guess you’ll have to find out.”

And just like that, Y/n found himself smiling—genuinely—as the night carried on, the weight of his responsibilities temporarily forgotten.

—————————

The night stretched on longer than they expected.

Somewhere between the drinks, the stories, and the teasing, Y/n found himself relaxing—a rarity in his life. Cassandra had a way of making things feel lighter as if the weight of his responsibilities could be ignored, even if just for a little while.

Y/n wasn’t sure how she did it, but he wasn’t complaining.

Eventually, the two of them found themselves on the rooftop terrace of the bar, looking out over the city skyline. The hum of traffic below blended with the distant thrum of music, and the cool night air was a welcome contrast to the warmth from the drinks.

Cassandra stretched her arms over her head before letting out a satisfied sigh. “Alright, I’ll admit it—you’re more fun than I expected.”

Y/n huffed out a quiet laugh. “I feel like that’s not exactly a compliment.”

“It is. Just… not a big one,” she teased, nudging him lightly with her elbow.

The sorcerer shook his head, but before he could reply, Cassandra tilted her head, studying him with an expression he couldn’t quite place.

“You know,” she mused, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this relaxed before.”

Y/n glanced away, exhaling slowly. “I don’t usually have the luxury.”

The Amazon frowned slightly but didn’t press. Instead, she leaned back against the railing, a thoughtful look on her face. “Well, maybe you should make a habit of it.”

Y/n gave her a dry look. “And let me guess—you’d personally make sure of that?”

She grinned. “Obviously. Someone’s gotta drag you out of your wizard cave every now and then.”

Y/n rolled his eyes, but there was a warmth in his chest that he couldn’t quite ignore.

A comfortable silence settled between them.

For a moment, the world felt… still. No looming threats, no cosmic crises—just him and Cassandra, standing side by side beneath the glow of the city lights.

Then, before Y/n could overthink it, the demi-goddess shifted closer, her shoulder brushing against his.

“So,” she said casually, though there was an unmistakable playfulness in her voice, “since I was kind enough to drag you out tonight… I think I deserve something in return.”

Y/n arched an eyebrow. “And what exactly do you want?”

Cassandra smirked. “A kiss.”

Y/n froze.

Her confidence was unwavering, but there was a teasing glint in her eyes as if daring him to back out.

His throat went dry. “Cassandra—”

“Oh, come on,” she interrupted, stepping in just a little closer. “I know you’re overthinking it. So let’s make it simple—you want to kiss me, right?”

Y/n opened his mouth, but no immediate response came out.

The Amazon grinned. “That’s not a no.”

The sorcerer exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you still like me,” she countered easily.

Y/n wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol, the atmosphere, or just the undeniable pull he felt toward her—but before he could stop himself, he reached out, brushing a stray strand of golden hair from her face.

Cassandra’s smirk faltered slightly, just for a second, before she tilted her head up toward him.

Y/n hesitated—only for a moment—before leaning in.

The kiss was soft, far softer than expected from someone as bold as Cassandra. It was brief, but the warmth of it lingered even after he pulled away.

When Y/n finally met her gaze again, she looked… pleased.

“Huh,” The Amazon mused, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “So the great Sorcerer Supreme does know how to loosen up.”

Y/n sighed, shaking his head as he tried (and failed) to fight off the warmth creeping up his neck. “You’re going to tease me about this forever, aren’t you?”

Cassandra grinned. “Oh, absolutely.”

And despite himself, Y/n found that he didn’t mind one bit.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

hay ariiii!! have a freebie 💝

The heart of the forest.

Clothes of rags. You're more wraith than girl. Weeks of damp. Scavenging bark and gleaning rotting apples and withered berries.

Even Animals avoid this place. They fear the old gods. The ones with no names. No faces. No sigils.

Not even blight and hollow stomachs can drive them this far inland. But you are not an animal. And your desperation is greater than hunger.

Because it's not just your world at stake if your Godmother's plan succeeds. But. All worlds. The Caldera roils. It yearns. And you feel it as surely as you feel the sun going down and the moon rising.

But youth and strength can only carry you so far. And as you walk up the steps, you hardly reach the top of the third step before you collapse. Cold stone biting into your cheek. Your ribs. Your hands. And you know nothing. Not the twisted, gnarled roots- slowly reclaiming the temple. Not the grey sky. Nothing.

_____________

"Sweetheart," Jason murmured, turning to wrap his arms around you, "I'm here-"

"But where is here?" you pant, rubbing your knuckles down your chest.

"Gotham," he said opening his eyes. And not for the first time, he wondered what you saw when you closed your eyes. Where you went when you slept.

Your heart was pounding and your skin was cool. Almost cold. Despite the blankets he piled on you and the fact that he was inches from you. "In New Jersey. Earth." A human world? he added questioningly. You weren't terrestrial. Or not human. Of that they were all certain- but. What that meant- none of them were sure.

Only that you were... Benevolent. Or perhaps just tamed.

"What time is it?" you ask, rolling onto your back.

"A little after 3," Jason murmured, kissing your forehead. Wondering at the scar there. What had left it. Nothing tended to hurt you. You weren't Clark invulnerable. Not Bulletproof. But. When Bruce had taken a swing at you you hadn't flinched- even if you had dropped the bag you were holding. Full of food and not the gold bars they had thought.

"I should get up," you sigh.

"Or," Jason murmured, kissing your temple, "we can just watch a movie." Sometimes he could bore you back to sleep.

[aphroditelovesu]

Can you do a yandere! Annabeth x reader?

''You are mine and I am yours. No one can change this fact, I suggest you just accept the truth.'' — Annabeth Chase.

❝ 🦉 — lady l: I absolutely love Annabeth. As I would also be a daughter of Athena, if I were from the PJO universe, I understand my girl perfectly, so I'm more than happy to write to her! I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 🧡🧡

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, jealousy, mention of murder, manipulation, gaslighting, unhealthy relationships.

❝🦉pairing: yandere!annabeth chase x gender neutral!reader.

Annabeth Chase had always been incredibly intelligent, proud and insightful, perhaps because she was the daughter of Athena or because she was always like that. Since she was a child, she was always sure of what she wanted and when she wanted something she didn't have the habit of giving up. She was never the giving up type and that only surfaced within her when she met you.

She is naturally a strategist and everything she does is carefully planned, calculated and executed. She never acts out of emotion but out of reason. Annabeth considers those who act without thinking to be fools and she will never be like that. Not even with her obsession.

Annabeth knows that her behavior around you, the thoughts she has for you are considered ''morally wrong'', but she doesn't care about that. She's a demigoddess, she has other issues to deal with than caring about morals and whether what she does or thinks is wrong.

She is extremely controlling and wants everything to be done her way, which suggests that she is arrogant. In a way, that's true, but Annabeth cares about you more than anyone else and she doesn't want you to get burned, so you should do things her way, the right way.

Annabeth is quite possessive, she hates it when you're around other people. You belong to her. From the moment you capture her attention, you become hers and she will not tolerate you betraying her in any way.

She hates it when people get close to you and she will use her intelligence to her advantage to keep people away from you. Whether manipulating you or them, she will not allow you to be stolen from her. Annabeth prefers not to get her hands dirty, so she will get rid of troubles in a way where she doesn't have to kill. At least not directly.

Annabeth admires you, she adores you to a certain extent, but she wants you to adore her more, to venerate her. She is a very proud daughter of Athena, she feels great pride and admiration for her mother and hopes, no, she wants you to worship her as much as she worships the gods.

She worships all gods, even those she has animosity towards their children, Annabeth respects them greatly and expects you to do the same. If you don't pay attention to the gods, she will have to correct you to fix this.

Annabeth is very affectionate, even more than she likes to admit. She wants physical contact for as long as possible, hugs, cuddles and kisses are precious to her and they are all yours. She loves it when you let her read to you, tell you about the gods and their stories. These are her favorite moments together, not only can she boast of her knowledge but also spend time with you.

She is very manipulative and will use this to her advantage, to keep you away from everyone she considers a threat to your relationship. At first, it was just campers that she didn't see any reason for you to get close to, but it quickly escalated to the point where she didn't even want your family around you. Annabeth is smart enough to know that you won't abandon your family that easily, but she will find a way. She always finds a way.

Annabeth will punish you for anything wrong you do, in this case, what she considers wrong. She wants to control you completely, to make you so dependent on her that you will need her for anything you are going to do. She's not the type to speak more than once and when she gives you an order, she expects you to obey without question.

All she wants is you, to be with you. And she knows she will have you. Annabeth just wants a peaceful life with you, without having to worry about others. You've been through so much, shouldn't you be able to be happy? Annabeth will ensure that nothing and no one, not even the gods, get in your way. She is ready to fight anyone for you.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Fertility

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey can i request a Dean Winchester x immortal demigoddess wife reader that is the daughter of whatever god or goddess and she is not a hunter just a normal girl that make Dean and Sam immortal with her magic and everyone in the hunting community know her as Dean innocent wife and she don’t cared about that, she is pregnant with Dean baby and know she is walking to the kitchen with Dean shirt and boxer because is comfortable and perfect for her pregnancy belly and him just loved. happy ending with a lot of fluff, kisses, and possible smut. 

Summary: You want Dean to meet your mother, the Goddess of fertility, love, beauty, and pleasure. Only problem? She lives in Egypt and Dean hates flying.

Square Filled: Delphinium for @spnonewordbingo (deleted bingo)

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Man, this Bunker really does have everything about everything. This small library has vast knowledge about virtually every single monster there is and has ever been. Some of them are extinct but it’s still good to know about them just in case. You’ve come to learn that anything can happen in the hunting life.

You flip through the pages of a lore book about Egyptian Gods and Goddesses when you come across one that makes your heart soar and a smile spreads across your face. You run your finger delicately down the page and stare at the Goddess trapped inside the book.

“Hi, mom,” you whisper.

Your mother is Hathor, the Egyptian Goddess of fertility, love, beauty, and pleasure. She is the protector of women, and she does a helluva job of it. You’re a demigoddess with only half of her powers, but you’re still like her in so many ways. Not only are you immortal, but you have the power to fight well in any hand-to-hand combat, mental manipulation, and mental torture. Your mother does it a lot better than you can, but you’ve done a good job at practicing over the centuries.

She offered you a place by her side in Egypt where she currently resides but you wanted to see the world and explore it on your own. You wanted to make your own adventures instead of being the shadow in hers. It’s a damn good thing you listened to your gut because you wouldn’t have met Sam and Winchester otherwise.

The first thing you did when you came to the United States was save a woman from being attacked by a man. This man wasn’t to exert his power over her by forcing her into doing things she didn’t want to do, and you put an end to it immediately. She got her revenge just like the thousands of other women you’ve saved from having the same fate. Saving women and torturing men has gotten you this far in life and you don’t plan on stopping, not within the next few centuries, at least.

The biggest thing you gained from your Mother is the power of fertility. You can’t count how many women you’ve come across who want to have children but can’t. They don’t know how it happens, but they wake up one day and realize they’re pregnant. Your powers have only been used for good and you don’t plan on stopping any time soon.

You just love bringing life into the world just like your mom.

The bar was in full swing, and you’re at the bar sipping your drink and watching everyone. You never know when someone is going to need you. There was a couple at the dart boards who were arguing over the point system. You kept an eye on them just in case you might need to jump in.

The bell above the front door rang as two people walked in. The shorter of the two made eye contact with you and it was as if time stopped. Because your mother is the Goddess of Beauty, you’re naturally flawless. Even if you’re not someone’s type, you’re beautiful to them.

“Drinking alone?” he asked when he approached you.

“Not if you sit down and drink with me,” you flirted.

“Sammy, be somewhere else,” the man said and sat next to you. The taller one rolled his eyes and left the bar counter. “I’m Dean.”

“Y/N. Sammy your brother?”

“Yeah.”

“Younger or older?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you’re older. You have that energy about you, which means you’re just my type. I like them older.”

You were not about to tell him that you were centuries older than him.

You and Dean hit it off that night and not because he took you back to his room. That night also was the night you learned they are hunters. You saw the weapons in their bags and made a deduction paired with the fact that he had an Anti-Posession Tattoo on his chest. There was no time beating around the bush so you told both of them who you were, who your mother is, and the fact that you’re immortal. Dean didn’t care so that’s how you started seeing the eldest Winchester.

You’re not a hunter. You have no desire to be a hunter. You just help people where you can but instead of monsters, it’s humans. After a few years of being with them, you made both of them immortal per their request. You don’t make anyone immortal without their consent, and the brothers had plenty of time to think if they wanted this or not. You have the ability to take it away, but the years will catch up to the person immediately. That usually means death.

Still, you’re happy with the family you’ve made and wouldn’t trade it for the world.

You close the book on Egyptian Gods and Goddesses before getting up. You place a hand on your swollen belly and pat the area where you know your child can feel it. Once he gets old enough, he’ll be able to choose if he wants to be immortal or not. After he turns eighteen, of course, and you’d do it for him.

You’re wearing one of Dean’s shirts since they are so comfortable so when he sees you enter the kitchen, he grins. He even has your favorite flowers on display on the table. Such a gentleman.

“Damn, just when I think you can’t get more beautiful, you walk in wearing that.”

“Good morning to you, too,” you greet. He kisses you quickly and bends down to kiss your stomach. “I want to take a trip with you.”

“Where?”

“I want you to meet my mother.”

“You want me to meet an Egyptian Goddess?”

“Yeah. She’s really sweet. I think you’d love her, and I know she’d love you.”

“I guess that’ll be okay.”

“We have to fly there. She’s in Egypt, naturally.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” he says in a quiet voice.

“Are you sure? I know you hate flying.” He nods without saying anything, and you grab his face so he’s forced to look at you. “I can ask her to come here, but I don’t think she’ll take well to leaving Egypt. She has her own business that she won’t part from.”

“I’ll be okay.”

You lean up and kiss him quickly.

“I’d like to go before I get too pregnant to fly.”

The gears in Dean’s head turn as he thinks of a solution that will benefit you both.

“Why don’t we visit her until after the baby is born? That way she can meet him, too.”

“You just don’t want to fly. You’re pushing this as far as you can, aren’t you?” you chuckle.

“Sweetheart, I can’t help it. They’re dangerous.”

“You’re a big baby, you know that?”

You leave his side and sit down at the kitchen table so he can finish cooking in peace.

“I promise we can go after he is born. I really would love to meet the woman who made you.”

“Maybe afterward, we can meet your mom!” you gasp. “I can get us into Heaven. I know a God.”

“One parent at a time,” Dean chuckles and plates the food.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[bitethedevil]

WIP - Raphael as the "dad who didn't want a dog"-meme

(This is just a silly little WIP for something that happens much later in my fic More Than Our Fathers (Raphael x Demigoddess!Reader). I just had a weird urge for Raphael to become a dog-dad)

While Raphael was talking to someone, you wandered around a bit. It was all a lot to take in. There were so many miserable soldiers of the Blood War. The conditions on the ground were awful and the camps were, of course, sectioned after hierarchy. The further you walked, the worse the conditions became.

You stopped in your tracks when you heard the hollow sound of what sounded like a tiny bark behind you. You turned around and looked down on the ground. Your eyes softened immediately as you saw the small fiery creature on the ground in front of you.

It looked like a hellhound, but it was much more dog-like than the huge beasts you had seen walking around. It was just a puppy. It had red glowing eyes that were looking up at you. It was clear that it would grow up to be huge from the big floppy ears it had and big paws. Its fur was a rusty reddish color. It was absolutely adorable.

“Hello, you,” you said to it in a baby-voice.

Its tongue lolled out of its mouth and its little tail started wagging. It barked at you and a puff of smoke came out of its mouth. It was the cutest thing you had ever seen during your time in the Hells.

You cast a spell that made you immune to fire. You cast another to make your hand numb, in case it would bite you with those already strong jaws. You knelt down and let it sniff your hand. Its tiny nose sniffed you with curiosity and it let you pet it.

“Oh, aren’t you precious,” you cooed and smiled.

Your smile faltered slightly when you remembered where you were and the fact that this pup would most likely grow up to be fodder for the front lines.

Animals had always been your biggest weakness. You weren’t too fussed about people, but the thought of animals being hurt tugged at your heartstrings.

Raphael had just left the tent where he had talked with the lieutenants, when he found you outside waiting for him. He looked at the puppy in your arms and then at your pleading eyes.

“No,” he said firmly. “Perish the thought.”

“But—”

“No,” he said again. “No pets. Let it go.”

“’It’ is a she,” you said. “She could be a working dog, a guard dog!”

“Sibylla,” he said tiredly.

“You wouldn’t let me get a cat either,” you said. “I’ll take care of her. She won’t go in the furniture, and she’d be well-trained and everything. I’ve owned lots of dogs before.”

“It is not a dog,” he said.

“She,” you corrected.

“Fine. She is not a dog,” he said and pointed at the puppy in your arms. “Not entirely at least. Her mother might have been from the looks of it, but ‘she’ is a hellhound. I am not taking that half-breed into my home.”

You looked at him in outrage and lowered your voice.

“So, what if she’s a ‘half-breed’? So are we, if you want to be technical about it,” you said defensively and held the pup closer to you. “No need to be rude about it.”

“I grew up around those beasts,” he said with disdain as he looked at the pup. “My father has a fondness for them. I am not budging. Let it go.”

“What will happen to if I do?” you said. “Will it survive? Be honest.”

Raphael sighed and gritted his teeth.

“It will not,” he said. “It is the product of a hellhound breeding with a simple dog. The mother never survives, and hence the pups rarely do for long either. It is the way of nature. Now, let it go.”

Your heart broke and you held the pup closer. You felt its warm little nose nuzzle into your neck as you held it, and tears were threatening to fall down your cheeks.

“Don’t,” Raphael warned at seeing your tears. “Not here.”

He looked around to see if anyone was looking in your direction. You started sniffling when the dog licked your cheek.

Raphael groaned in frustration.

“Fine. Keep the damn mutt,” he groaned. “But it will need to be trained and if it ruins any furniture or makes any trouble at all, we are getting rid of it. Understand?”

“Yes, yes,” you said relieved and nodded. “Thank you.”

Raphael looked at the pup with clear disdain. It was staring excitedly at him with its tongue out of its mouth.

“Such an ugly little thing,” he said.

The puppy yipped at him, and smoke and sparks came out of its mouth. Raphael was quick to take a step back. Was he scared of hellhounds? You weren’t going to press him on it now that he had finally said yes.

“I think I’ll name you Asha,” you cooed to the pup. “Do you like that?”

Raphael mumbled something that sounded like ‘spare me’ and rolled his eyes.

Mephistopheles suddenly turned his attention to Asha who had been sitting beside you like a statue for the entirety of the impromptu meeting from your father in law. She was the size of a big grown up dog now, and she was still growing. He looked at her with a toothy smile that could have been interpreted as fond, if you did not know that he was just as much of a performer as his son was.

“Well-trained, isn’t she?” he said in that smooth breathy voice of his. “Impressive. Especially considering that you do not speak Infernal.”

You looked down at Asha. Her red eyes were following Mephistopheles’ movements intently.

“She understands common just fine it seems,” you said. “I have had her since she was a pup.”

“They are quite intelligent creatures,” he said.

“Indeed,” you said. “I understand you have an interest for hellhounds as well.”

“Oh yes,” he said. “I have been breeding my own race of them. It has been a little pet-project of mine for quite some time. They are tougher, meaner, and larger than even the largest of the Nessian warhounds. Of course, they are purebreds, and not mutts like your attentive little girl there.”

You smiled politely, though the smile was strained.

“I’ve always found that mutts have their own charm,” you said.

“Certainly,” Mephistopheles said and turned his attention to you with a charming smile. “Though they are, of course, completely unpredictable. You never know if the pups will grow up to take after their simple dog mothers or their hellhound fathers. No matter what, the blood is diluted, and you often end up with a hound that is of little use. A half-breed pup does not stand a chance in a pack of purebred hellhounds, and they more often than not end up as dinner…”

He might have still been smiling, but you could easily tell in his pale eyes that you were not talking about dogs anymore. His smile widened even more when he heard the familiar ‘poof’ or Raphael appearing behind him. Raphael looked from you to him with a look of surprise and then annoyance.

“Mephistopheles,” Raphael greeted his father with a cold tone. “My apologies. I did not expect a meeting.”

Mephistopheles did not even look back at him but kept his eyes on you.

“I was not here to meet with you, dear son,” he drawled and walked up the steps to where you were sitting. “A pleasure to properly make your acquaintance, Sibylla.”

He kissed your hand while still making eye contact. You pressed back against your seat as he did. Despite yourself, he did terrify you.

He looked down at Asha and smiled. He reached out to pet her. Had he not moved his hand away fast enough, she would have bitten him. The snap of her strong jaws echoed through the throne room. Mephistopheles’ eyes widened for a second, but he quickly brushed it off with a chuckle. Asha growled at him.

“Apologies,” you said to him. “As you said yourself…half-breeds and their unpredictability.”

He smirked at you with just a hint of admiration in his eyes before disappearing in a flash of smoke and embers.

You sighed in relief and the tension in your body disappeared the second your father-in-law did. Asha quickly returned to her cheerful self and started wiggling her entire body in joy as she went to greet Raphael. For once, he leaned down to scratch her behind her ear and her tail started wagging even more.

“Such a good girl,” he praised and petted her. “Yes, you are, darling.”

“Don’t teach her it’s fine to bite guests,” you said to him.

“She is a smart girl,” Raphael said and rubbed Asha’s belly. “She is allowed when the guest in question is my father.”

You rolled your eyes at him but could not help but smile.

[winterzxsoldierz]

Well You Know Me...

Avenger!Bucky Barnes X Goofy!Villain

Part two

Warnings: Reader being an idiot and a flirt, no mentions of Y/N, Reader is a Female and a demigoddess who loves to cause chaos.

"Frosty the Bucky was a grumpy grumpy soul...and his arm was made of black and gold." Your voice rings through the loud speaker of the intercoms of your lair as Bucky walks in. "Hey James, looking fine per usual." You say with a chuckle and Bucky could just hear the smirk in your voice, he rolls his eyes, "Where are you?" he scoffs, already fed up with you, "Ah ah ah, you gotta find me, with those white wolf senses." You tease, and again he rolls his eyes. "Oh, hey there." You smile as Bucky approaches from behind, you spin in your throne chair for the evil effect and you grin.

"You're being an insufferable nuisance." Bucky tells you simply, while glaring at you, the chair you're in, it's ridiculous, he can only describe it to be unicorn vomit, if that's even a thing.

"More like an irresistible nuisance because you just keep visiting me, what's this like now...your third time i believe. you know what they say, third times a charm." A cheeky smirk grows on the curve of your lips and you laugh. "How much charm will it take for me to get that shirt off?" You slip in and tilt your head, the smirk on your lips grows seeing the pink tint Bucky's cheeks.

"Enough of the games, where is he?" Bucky demands, his tone taking on some sternness, as he eyes you wanting to see if you slip.

"Where's who James? gonna have to be more specific." You say, your tone mocking innocence. "Are you assuming i kidnapped someone because i most definitely did." you smirk wickedly. "He's alive, i think." Bucky blinks, "You think?" he stares at you. You smirk and nod. "Yes i think, i hadn't checked on him after i hit him with that." You point over to the long clown fist sitting on your desk, Bucky is about to speak but you raise you hand to silence him. "In my defense he was trying to rob me, i ain't rich, so i had to do something to protect my McDonald's money." Bucky face palms and nods, "Just show me where he is."

When you get to were your hostage is you grin wickedly and chuckle, Bucky isn't amused, as usual but you don't care, you walk slowly and speak animatedly "Ladies and Gentlemen, prepare yourself for my hostage and clutch your man bags and purses tightly, because he will try to steal your gas money or-" Bucky cuts you off "For Christ sake open the damn door." You bow and smirk "I love it when you're mean." Bucky's eyes roll "Why do i deal with this." he whispers but you hear him and laugh. Opening up the large purple door that has a large sign up with the words danger on it, it reveals a boy tied to a chair with a paper bag over his head that says punch me in big bold letters, but the bag isn't what Bucky was looking at, it was the suit the boy was wearing, a specific spider suit and Bucky loudly curses "What the fuck" You snicker "LANGUAGE." you snip in and toss the key to the chains in the air, Bucky catches it, "Good to see you're not dead bug boy." you watch as Bucy removes the chains from Peter

Bucky looks at you with a glare "He wasn't trying to rob you, just so you know." Bucky shakes his head "And his name is spider-boy."

"Bug boy." you retort.

"Spider-boy." Bucky says back."

"Bug boy." You roll, your eyes.

"Spider-boy." Bucky says again, a little frown on his face.

"Bug boy." You say again, determined to win this argument.

Peter just stares at you both, his eyes going back and forth to both of you as you both argue about his superhero name, he raises his finger "Actually it's, Spider-Man."

"No." You and Bucky say at the same time looking Peter's way." you look back at Bucky, now with a plan to trick him.

"Spider-boy." You say a knowing grin coming to your lips.

"Bug boy." Bucky argues and the pauses." "No wait- how." Bucky stammers and you laugh." "I win." You sing as Bucky grumbles and walks with Peter to the exit."

2 months later

Back in the compound Bucky sits, a bored expression on his face, no missions were happening at the moment, he looks down at his phone and sees about 5 text messages from you, how you manged to get his phone and put you number in it he'll never know. "I see you're texting your girlfriend." Sam teases, making Bucky jump a bit, he wasn't even sure when Sam came in but he glares at Sam grumpily and scoffs "She is not my girlfriend Sam." Bucky grumpily replies but to Sam it sounded defensive to defensive. "Sure sure, not your girlfriend, but you always visit her." Sam smiles, it's smug and Bucky hates it. "Whatever." Bucky shoves his phone into his pocket and gets up. "Where are you going Buck? i was only messing with you." Sam says, with a teasing smirk watching Bucky walk off. Sam is 100% sure it's to go see you.

Tag list: @hisredheadedgoddess28

i'll make a part three, stay tuned😉 part one here <-

[ukulelevillainwrites]

we're not gonna be friends

one shot

Warnings: none

Content: not enemies, more like annoyed at each other, to lovers, f!reader x George

Word count: 6.8k

Summary: George and y/n can't stand each other, but Lucy can see through their annoyance. Maybe she should help them out a little bit.

Comment: it took me an embarrassingly long time to write this but i'm so happy it's finally here! It was inspired by the song We're not gonna be friends by PJ Frantz which is attached to this

@neewtmas ; @maraschinomerry ; @oblivious-idiot ; @bella-rose29 ; @bobbys-not-that-small ; @lewkwoodnco ; @clarabowmp3 ; @demigoddess-of-ghosts

The kitchen was silent like it often was before breakfast. Or was it lunchtime already? Despite the number of clocks in the house, y/n couldn’t keep track of the day. Unlike Tendy’s where every agent had to keep a tight schedule, Lockwood&Co taught her to be more spontaneous with her day. She’d been there three months already, but she still wasn’t used to the hours kept by her colleagues. They could eat breakfast at 3am or 11, sometimes had breakfast for dinner or the other way around. The only thing she knew by heart was the quietness before a shared meal. The only noises came from George’s cooking. They would soon be replaced by uninterrupted chatter, the scraping of chairs against the floor and the kettle that was kept on most of the time.

She tried to appreciate the peace before the storm but it was tainted with the heavy stillness of the room. With his back turned to her, George couldn’t see her disappointment at the lack of conversation between them. Despite her best efforts, she hadn’t managed to find any sort of anchor with him. She had tried her best to be friendly, helpful, grateful for everything he did around the house but nothing had worked. Even the best conversation starters she could find about the Problem would get shut down in two sentences or less. Once, she mentioned the conversation she had overheard between two of her ex-colleagues, theories on the best ways to stop the Problem. His eyes had lit up, eager to respond and keep the debate going. He had only taken part of the conversation to contradict whatever the agents had said, but she was glad of the progress she made. However, she had made the mistake of smiling at him which instantly turned him mute once again before exiting the room without finishing whatever thought he had started.

She had grown frustrated of the situation. Frankly, if it hadn’t been for Lockwood and Lucy, she would have given up entirely. But they kept insisting that they could be the best of friends and if she was honest with herself she felt insecure about wrecking the harmony between the three roommates. She already felt guilty enough for making Lucy share her room, no matter how much she insisted that she liked having her here. So, she attempted a new approach: instead of talking to him, she would try to help him out, be of service.

She waited patiently for him to finish whatever step he was on in his recipe to get the plates from behind him. When he rested the spoon he had in hand on the side of the pan, she stood up and went for the plates. He got there first and turned around carrying the four plates. Instead of handing them to her, he avoided her eyes and set them down himself, practically walking through her. She didn’t let his rudeness stop her from helping and opened the cupboard where sat the glasses. He was faster once more and slid his fingers inside the glasses to grab two with each hand. Refusing to back down, she took the forks and knives out and set one of each next to the plates. She went next for the napkins but was stopped in her tracks by the sound of metal hitting plates. She turned around to see George rearranging her table setting, visibly sighing as he placed attentively the forks on the left face up and the knives on the right blades in. He once again avoided her gaze and went back to his dish still cooking on the stove.

“Should I bring the napkins or do you have preferences for that too?” She tried to say on a light tone but her annoyance bled through.

“However you want is fine.”

“Apparently not…” she mumbled.

“They’re just napkins, y/n.”

“They were just forks.”

“That’s differ-“

She slammed the door behind her before he could finish. She wasn’t sure if she was hungry anymore. The front door opened and she came face to face with Lockwood who was coming back from whatever errand he and Lucy had run in the morning.

“Hey,” he said as she passed by him. “Aren’t we about to eat?” he asked, but she was already climbing up the stairs.

He and Lucy exchanged a look before the girl decided to go after her. Even though y/n hadn’t said anything, Lucy was pretty sure George had to be involved. She couldn’t really blame her. She and George had had a difficult start too. But it hadn’t taken this long for the researcher to warm up to her. And y/n was much more polite than she had been. Something was off and he had some explaining to do. She would ask him about it after she made sure y/n was okay. She climbed the stairs up to the attic and found y/n angrily fluffing the pillows on her bed. She didn’t have to ask to know whose face she was picturing while violently adjusting the stuffing of a forest green throw pillow.

“So…” she started carefully, “how was your morning?”

“He is the most obnoxious and condescending jerk I’ve ever met.”

“What happened now?” she asked cautiously, but she couldn’t help the smile pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“I have tried so hard to be pleasant and helpful. I talk about subjects he is interested in, I help out on chores he does, I do everything to be nice and a good roommate and he still won’t talk to me for more than thirty seconds and he won’t under any circumstances let me help out.”

She threw the innocent pillow on her bed to punctuate her annoyance.

Lucy felt torn by the situation. On the one hand she felt bad for her. Getting used to living with George hadn’t been easy for her either, but compared to how he was treating y/n, she had had it easy. He had been irritable lately and he snapped at the slightest inconvenience. On the other hand, she might have an idea of what was really going on.

“Why don’t we go back downstairs and eat something, it’ll make you feel better.”

“And deal with him? No thanks.”

She resolutely sat on her bed, crossing her arms to mark her words.

“I’ll bring up a plate for you.” Lucy said as she made her way back down the stairs.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Lucy said as soon as she entered the kitchen.

“Where should I start?” The skull countered in that invasive way he had of barging in on her conversations.

She ignored him and tapped George on the shoulder, making him look away from his cooking.

“Please, Lucy, we’re about to eat.”

“Yeah, well y/n’s not coming down because of you.”

“She’s not?” Lockwood chimed in.

“Our dear friend George annoyed her away.”

Lockwood smiled somewhat fondly. This was classic George.

“I didn’t do anything.” He said flatly.

“You didn’t let her help, you keep leaving her out!”

George took a deep breath before affirming decidedly

“I don’t like the way she sets the forks and knives.”

She and Lockwood exchanged a look. He couldn’t be serious.

“George, please,” Lockwood started, sensing Lucy’s annoyance.

“She doesn’t check if they match and she sets them haphazardly because she can’t be bothered to place them on each side of the plate, it drives me nuts!”

She looked across the table to see Lockwood smiling at her, silently acknowledging his friend’s quirks.

“George,” he started, “I can’t have two team members unable to work together over forks and knives. I’m gonna need you to make an effort, try and be friends.” He punctuated his words with one of his charming smiles.

George stood up and grabbed his plate.

“I can’t be friends with her.” He declared before going in his room.

Lockwood sighed in defeat.

“Don’t worry about it too much.” Lucy told him.

“How can I not? They’re this close to being at each other’s throat.”

Oh I don’t know about throats but something else surely. She didn’t want to say anything yet, but she had a hunch. George was rude, more so than he had ever been to her. He claimed he couldn’t stand y/n, yet he somehow always managed to be in the same room as her. If he truly couldn’t spend a minute in her company, why did she find him researching a case in the library on several occasions with y/n reading nearby instead of going in his room? And why would he spend twice as much time cleaning if not maybe to see her coming in? He may have his preferences when it came to cleaning, but her instincts told her there was something else at play here.

“Maybe we could make them collaborate more…” She told Lockwood with a grin.

They shared a complicit look.

George was halfway through an article when Lockwood called him down. He wondered what could be more important than being prepared for a case but with Lockwood it could be anything. Without looking up from the newspaper he was reading he went downstairs, only to be greeted with Lucy’s insistent stare. She had that look on her face. It instantly filled him with dread. Whatever they did, it obviously meant more work for him.

“What did you do?” he asked.

“Nothing!” Lucy answered too quickly. “We just…”

He left the article on the nearest table to cross his arms. He looked back at Lockwood.

“We knocked over a few boxes while training.”

“So? Just clean it up.”

“They’re yours. It’s your records and research on the Problem…”

George stormed downstairs. Dealing with Lockwood’s recklessness in the field was already a lot, but carelessness in the house they all lived in, that’s where he drew the line.

“I’m sorry George,” Lockwood chased after him, “I want to help but I don’t know your system.”

“You’d mess it up anyway. It’s fine, I’ll take care of it.” He sighed.

“At least let me get you some help,” Lucy said, already halfway back into the hall.

Before he could protest, she called “y/n! We need your help!”

The girl arrived shortly after, visibly unhappy about the situation.

“We have errands to run, but have fun you two!” Lucy said cheerfully, quickly exiting through the front door before anyone of them could protest.

George stared at the closed door with round eyes. He wasn’t mad about the files anymore. This was worse. So much worse. How was he supposed to get anything done while she was around?

“What do you need help with?” y/n asked flatly.

Without sparing her another glance he rushed back downstairs to evaluate how much damage had been done. He didn’t want to try and explain his system. Frankly, he wasn’t sure he could. He was aware of his quirks and weird habits, and he was aware that it didn’t make sense to most people. Lockwood had made that clear. And even though Lucy made efforts, his filing system was where she drew the line. He didn’t want to hear the same thing from y/n.

Papers were scattered across the office floor. The filing box labelled ‘Problem’ was upside down, balanced between two chairs and on the verge of joining its content below it. The tabs he had placed inside to keep everything organized hadn’t survived the attack. This would take hours.

“So, you’re not even going to talk to me now?” y/n’s voice resonated from the kitchen.

His heart started to beat faster. With wild eyes, he started to pick up the papers mechanically while his mind reeled. What was he supposed to say? Her footsteps resonated louder as she stepped further down into the basement. The air grew thicker with tension as she did so. He wished he would break through the window and run away from this awkward situation.

“George?” she started, crossing her arms as she reached the last step.

Reluctantly, he lifted his eyes towards her, silently cursing himself for screwing up their relationship this badly. He blinked, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Fine.” she let out, slightly louder.

The look on her face made him ache. She looked terrifying when she was angry. He froze halfway through collecting the papers at his feet. She frowned at him, probably wondering what was wrong with him. She bent down and picked the papers up for him, organizing them in neat piles on the one desk that Lockwood and Lucy had spared.

“You know,” she started, “you’re probably the most confusing person I’ve ever met.”

He still stood in the middle of the room, paralyzed by the coldness of her voice. He stared blankly as she angrily collected the papers and forcefully sorted them, creasing some of them in the process.

“I tried to help around the house, but you never let me. I clean, you clean again after me. I initiate conversation and you find any excuse to leave the room.”

She looked down at the last papers she picked up. They were newspaper cuttings about the most relevant outbreaks of the Problem. She smiled as she read the titles and it sent a chill down his spine. Whatever was coming next was not going to be good.

“I spent hours reading all I could find about the origin of the Problem. Lucy said that was how she got you to open up. I thought we could finally have something to talk about. Instead, you walked out after two minutes.”

George looked back at her, a knot forming in his stomach. Having all his mistakes lined up this way made him realize how badly he had handled the situation.

“Am I really that hard to live with?” she asked. There was a crack in her voice.

He couldn’t stay silent. Not this time. But no matter how much he wanted to find the right thing to say, he came up short.

“I’m sorry!” he blurted out.

She looked up, surprised.

“What was that?” she said, eager to make him apologize again.

“You heard me…” he mumbled.

“No, I don’t think I did,” she smiled. “George Karim apologizing? That’s more unlikely than seeing a ghost hula hooping.”

He smiled back. They stared at each other for a few seconds, long enough to make the air feel warmer in the basement. The first crumb of complicity gave him enough courage to try to make up for his rudeness. He added the papers in his hand to the pile on the desk in front of him before continuing.

“I never wanted to make you feel unwelcome.” He looked down, ashamed to admit he had badly misread the situation. “I’m just used to Lucy pushing back and when you didn’t, I thought… that maybe you were faking it? That you were talking about the Problem just to make fun, and you helped out just to annoy me and slow me down-”

“Oh, being nice is annoying now?”

“I don’t know! I’m a jerk, I see that now.”

“At least we can agree on that.”

He looked back up expecting to see her frowning.

“Why are you smiling?”

“You’re finally honest with me. I take that as a victory,” she said decidedly as she reached for the upturned cardboard box.

“So I’m guessing you have a system to organize your files?”

The question caught him off-guard. Was she really moving on from three months of feud that easily? It felt like a trick. She stared at him expectantly.

“Just… chronological.” He said cautiously.

“I don’t think you’d use that many tabs if it was just chronological. You must have subcategories, right? Like at least geographical and then maybe by source…”

Whatever trick this might be, it was working. He couldn’t resist correcting anyone about his filing system.

“I always start with the chronological order and then I file everything according to geography. For each year, I like to organize the records by city then order them by region and finally-”

“Alphabetically?”

“No,” he said with a smile. “I take the region most located South then move back up East, then North and finish West.”

“Why?”

“It’s easier to visualize on a map.”

She laughed. “I wouldn’t expect any less from you.”

When she and Lockwood came back from their errand, which really consisted of going to the coffeeshop closest to the house to let George and y/n have it out, Lucy was shocked to discover that her plan had actually worked. Well, not that shocked. She knew there was something there. They just needed a little push.

They had to climb down the stairs to the basement to finally find them because none of them answered their calls from the hallway. They were deep in conversation about the Problem. The files and boxes had been entirely cleaned up, everything was back on the shelves and… Wait, did George just laugh at something y/n said? How long had they been gone?

Lockwood had a confused look on her face, matching hers. It didn’t leave him the entire way to the client’s house that evening. There was no more tense silence, awkward avoidance or strange atmosphere in the group. The change was radical. Had she known it would have been this effective, she would have locked them up in the basement three months ago. She had been worried they would have ripped each other’s eyes out in such close quarters. In this moment though, they stared intently at each other more than they looked murderous. She smiled to herself, only making Lockwood more confused. She threw him a look. They are so gone for each other. He looked at her sideways, seemingly in disbelief. She raised her eyebrows. I swear! You’ll see. He seemed unconvinced, but she knew. “I can’t be friends with her” George had said. Yes, quite literally, she thought.

The cab came to a halt in front of their workplace for the night. 11 Hall Road. Lucy would have loved to have an exciting new case that she could add to her journal, but the truth was that most cases were plain. An old person dies, the inheritors need to clear the house before living there or selling it. Those who had become apathetical to the Problem said it was just another expense to plan alongside the funeral. She wasn’t in the mood for apathetical. Not when she had two idiotic friends practically holding hands after being at each other’s throat for the past three months. It comforted her to see them remain focused on their tasks without breaking conversation, and she almost didn’t want to tell them to stop to allow her to use her talent. A job was still a job though.

When silence hit them, so did the cold realization of all the sorrow surrounding them. Wailing filled Lucy’s ears and soon the faint outline of the phantasm haunting the place appeared in the corner of her eye. She couldn’t perceive it very well, but its screams made it hard for her to think. Lockwood stepped in front of her, rapier drawn and ready for a fight, while George tried to yell over the disembodied screams what the source could be. y/n was running through the house following his directions but to no avail. His last idea was a miniature car in the bedroom at the end of the hall.

“Found it!” y/n called from upstairs.

But Lucy was the one with the silver nets. She drew her own rapier, aiming for the stairs. The phantasm was faster. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the figure floating upstairs, so fast she doubted her mind for a second. y/n’s scream confirmed she hadn’t been dreaming. Lucy saw the girl running past her in the opposite direction, only stopped by the chest of drawers stationed on the landing. She hit her side with a definite thump, bringing her down and leaving her paralyzed on the floor of the corridor. Lucy hurried up the stairs and came to stand between y/n and the ghost, drawing intricate patterns she had practiced with Lockwood. When she heard the boys climbing the stairs, she used her other hand to take the silver nets out of her pocket. They got caught in her belt and the second she looked away was enough for the visitor to float closer to y/n, still lying a few feet behind her. Using her remaining strength, y/n threw a salt bomb, winning enough time for Lockwood to join Lucy’s side, covering George while he took care of the source.

None of them really spoke on their way back, still shaken from the close call they avoided. Y/n didn’t suffer major injuries, just a few bad bruises, which was a relief. It was enough for Lockwood to tell her to stay home for the next few days. She hadn’t protested, probably because she was exhausted from the night and the drive had rocked her to sleep. When they arrived in front of Portland Row, George didn’t let Lucy wake her up. Instead he carried her inside and despite the night they’d had, she smiled.

The rays of light shining on her face hurt her closed eyes, but not as much as the bruises in her side that decided to wake up as soon as she emerged from her heavy sleep. She was sore, thirsty and only managed to groan when trying to move in what was definitely not her bed. She reached over, eyes still closed, and encountered something cold. Her reflexes kicked in, knocking the glass over and effectively pouring its content on her. She jerked up and immediately screamed at the pain stabbing her side.

“Are you okay?” George asked, worried, as he crashed back into his room.

Desperately trying to get away from the cold wet blanket, she pulled herself up, only managing to hurt herself more.

“No, no, no, slow down. You’re only going to hurt yourself more if you do that.”

He gently nudged her back down, elevating her head with a pillow and removing the blanket to toss it on the floor. She shivered.

“How did you sleep?” he asked as he casually laid something else on her.

“Terrible,” she simply said as she managed to open an eye.

“Do you remember last night?” he continued while helping her sit.

“Yes… I think.” She looked around with half-opened eyes. “Why am I in your room?”

“Lockwood almost passed out after the first flight of stairs.”

She opened her second eye and stared at him dubitatively.

“Fine I wasn’t doing great either.”

She laughed lightly but it only triggered her injury again.

“Here, drink this,” he handed her a cup of tea, “and today you’re on bed rest. No work, no chores, nothing. Not even laughing.”

“I should keep you around then,” she said, before taking a sip.

He threw her a look, but even with eyes half open she could see the shadow of a smile on his face.

He went back downstairs, leaving her to savor her tea, its warmth welcome after having been awakened in such a brutal way. She looked back down and noticed what George had draped over her. His own sweater, the one he wore in October when the days started getting colder, sat gently on her shoulders, smelling faintly of cedarwood. She hadn’t realized how soft it was, having only touched it with her eyes. The night after the case was a blur, but she could have sworn that only one person had carried her upstairs. She smiled to herself as she looked around his room. Papers were left scattered on his desk, some fallen on the floor. Trinkets were gathered on every shelf that wasn’t already full of books. It was messy, disorganized, but comforting in its own way. She wondered how someone who kept such meticulous files on the Problem could live in a room like this. If she tried to make sense of it, she would probably spend the day here, and she simply refused that. Staying still was out of the question. She carefully sat back up before she tried to get onto her feet. The whole ordeal took about ten minutes. This might not be the brightest idea, she thought to herself, but she was finally making progress with George, they had a semblance of connection and she certainly wouldn’t let one wound stand in the way of her friendship with him.

One painful shower and a whole hour later, y/n made her way downstairs and joined George in the kitchen. She hadn’t even made it through the door that she could already hear him telling her off for getting out of bed. He chastised her about the dangers of disregarding health and how irresponsible it was of her to push her body to its limit. She just took a seat at the kitchen table and smiled at him. He had been talking to her for five uninterrupted minutes with eye contact and everything. Technically it was to yell at her, but still. progress was progress. He gave up when noticing her smile wouldn’t budge.

“Why did you come down anyway?”

“I was hungry,” she said while grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl in front of her.

“You could’ve just told me I would have brought something for you.”

“Actually, since I’m on house arrest and you’re finally speaking to me, why don’t you let me help you out today? You know like cleaning, cooking… everything you do all the time for everyone and never let me help with?”

“No. You’re injured. You shouldn’t move that much.”

“How about research then? That’s just reading.”

“No,” he said decisively, punctuating his rejection with a pointed look.

“Stubborn idiot.”

“Well, I am not the idiot who tripped and almost shattered my hip on a dresser.”

She scoffed and threw the orange in her hand, aiming for his head. He caught it just in time before it made contact with his cheek. He stared back at her with round eyes.

“What the hell was that?” he asked with an edge in his voice. Did she just imagine his voice getting deeper? The slightest grin formed at the corner of his mouth, giving her chills. “You’re insufferable.”

“You’re just jealous because even injured I have better aim than you.” She blurted out, hoping the redness of her face wasn’t obvious.

When he didn’t respond, an idea popped into her head.

“And you probably don’t want me to help because you’re scared I’ll be better at research than you are too.”

He smiled, set the orange down on the table and turned back to the dishes he had started before she got there.

“You really think I’d fall for that? Who do you think I am? Lockwood?”

She took back the fruit and slumped into her chair.

“Can you at least let me help? I can’t stay still for so long, I’ll go mad”

She fidgeted with the orange in her hands, planting her short nails into its skin the best she could. She only managed to pull off small pieces each time.

“You’ll slow me down, and I can’t allow myself to miss a single element. I don’t want last night to happen again.”

She looked up to find him already staring.

“I managed to keep up with your files on the Problem, why would that be any different?”

He didn’t have anything to say back. She smiled triumphantly.

“You have no more arguments, I win the argument! Where should I start?”

He sighed, dried the glass he was holding and sat next to her.

“By learning how to peel an orange properly.” He retorted, snatching the fruit from her hand.

Methodically, he sunk his finger under the peel, tearing it confidently. The fruit’s sweet perfume filled the air as George dropped the peel on the table in one piece. While she studied his hands attentively, he proceeded to tear the orange apart, setting its pieces on the table in front of her.

“I can do that myself you know.”

“Can you?”

“Jerk.” She laughed. Being friends with him wasn’t exactly what she had thought it would be, but she had to admit that she liked it.

He got up and snatched a piece from her hand.

“Hey, what was that for?”

“Compensation for my efforts.” He smirked.

He disappeared into the living room and came back with piles of materials in his arms. He did a second trip to bring books and case files, then a third to get notebooks from his room. When he got back into the kitchen, he sat next to her and wrote the name of the client on the thinking cloth. He pushed back his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s get to work.”

George knew that y/n was too stubborn to rest despite her injury, and she was too clever to be tricked into it. To be fair, he hadn’t tried that hard. He really was glad of the company. He gave her some context for their upcoming case and described his usual research methods. He realized he might have been explaining things too fast when he noticed her staring at him with round eyes.

“I lost you, didn’t I?”

“Sort of…” she answered, embarrassed. “Am I wasting your time?”

“Like spending time with you could ever be wasted time” he wanted to say. Instead, he simply shook his head and started his explanation over, shaking off the thought.

He was right, though. Not only was he greatly enjoying himself, she was also a quick learner. By the second hour spent gathering material, they had already uncovered crucial elements about the history of the place and they had started narrowing in on the type of object that could be a potential source. They made a good team.

The day had gone by without any of them leaving the kitchen. They were enthralled in their work with a comfortable silence between them. They sat side by side, sharing documents and exchanging notes on the Thinking Cloth with an appeasing familiarity. Deep down, George felt guilty that they missed out on moments like these in the past because he was too focused on keeping his new colleague at arm’s length. Their knees bumped every once in a while, each moment making his heart skip a beat. Out of surprise, that is, not that he paid it any mind.

In just a day he had learned to read her smile. The soft polite one was how she asked if he wanted more tea. The shy one meant she needed his help but didn’t want to ask. His favorite one was her triumphant smile when she finally figured out what the source must be. He held his hand out high for her to high five him back. She did, her touch electric against his. She didn’t let go and wrapped her fingers around his, lingering there for another second. He stared at their tangled fingers, oddly captivated. His eyes traveled down her arm and up her face to find her already staring. His breath caught. Suddenly he couldn’t care less about the case they had been working on. Nothing mattered except for the way the warm light of the kitchen lit up her eyes. Her lips parted, catching his eye before he could stop it.

“It’s late, I should probably get some sleep,” she quickly said when their eyes met.

“Yeah,” he let go of her hand, “good idea.”

She used his shoulder to stand up and flinched. He didn’t know if it was from the contact or the effort.

“Good night,” he said gently, trying to shake off some of the awkwardness he was feeling.

“Good night. Don’t stay up too late.”

“I can’t promise anything,” he mumbled as he watched her close the door behind her.

He found it ironic that she was giving him advice when she had been blatantly ignoring everything he said about her health all day long. He returned to the newspaper he was reading, every word on the page escaping his attention. What smile had she used when she left the room? He took a pen to keep his eyes from skipping five words at a time. She had touched his shoulder on purpose earlier, hadn’t she? This was useless. He gathered up the rest of the papers he hadn’t read yet and headed back to his room, conceding defeat to the butterflies settling in his stomach.

y/n woke up around 2 am, her aching body forcing her awake demanding a glass of water. Everything was dark around her, but she could hear Lucy’s steady breathing on the opposite side of the room. She did her best to get to her feet silently, ignoring the pain still twisting her side. The steps creaked lightly underneath her bare feet, the sound resonating loudly in the silent house. She reached the first landing discreetly with the hope that she wouldn’t wake anyone up. Instead, she was surprised to see a ray of light coming from under George’s door. It was ajar, so she pushed it lightly to see him hunched over his desk, still reading the newspapers she had left on the table a few hours earlier.

“You’re really stubborn you know?”

He didn’t seem surprised to hear her behind him.

“You’re one to talk,” he retorted.

She knew there was no point in arguing, especially at this hour.

“I’m getting some water, do you want anything?”

“Tea would be fine, thanks.” He turned around. His hair was visibly disheveled. Even though he didn’t put that much effort into it at regular hours, it was obvious that he was tired.

When she came back a few moments later, he was still absorbed by whatever article he was reading. He hardly paid attention when she set the steaming cup next to him. She didn’t really expect him to, so it really came as a surprise when he reached for her hand without taking his eyes off his notes. The contact of his hand on the bare skin of her arm almost made her spill her water.

“Take a look,” he simply said. He pointed at an annotation he had written in the margin of a newspaper article he was reading.

She sat on the stool next to him to inspect his findings. His scribbling was already hard to read in the daylight, but in the dead hours of the night it was almost impossible. He saw her squint and read aloud. The words evaded her. She blamed the lack of sleep and not the fact that his hand was still resting on her arm, gently swaying back and forth. She stared at it, its slow movements calming her down. It made her feel peaceful, appeased. She wondered however why her heart was beating faster if she was feeling so calm.

“y/n?”

“Hmm?” She looked up and was caught off guard by the gentleness in his eyes.

“You should go back to bed.”

“No, no, tell me. I’m listening.”

She could see the cogs turning in his head, weighing his options, whether forcing her to rest would be worth the effort or pointless from the start. He sighed.

“I found another death related to the client’s house. I’m trying to see if the haunting is caused by what we found earlier or if it’s something else entirely.”

“That’s way too much work to do by yourself in one night.”

“Someone has to do it. You should rest, I’ll tell you what I found in the morning.”

She got up, but she knew fully well she wasn’t letting him work all night alone. She took all the papers she could gather in her arms, ignoring his hushed protests, and made herself comfortable in his bed. He looked at her incredulously. She tapped the spot next to her, a large smile lighting up her face.

He sounded defeated when he said “why are you like this?”

“You look out for me, I look out for you.”

It shut him up on the spot. She got under the covers and organized the documents in piles around her while he stared silently, his mouth slightly agape.

“What? If we’re here all night we might as well get comfortable.”

His eyes were so round she thought it must hurt him. “We?”

She tapped the spot next to her again.

“Come on. You can’t tell me to rest if you’re not doing it either.”

Reluctantly, he joined her, looking like he was intruding in the sheets of a total stranger. At first, he pushed the cover aside. It was as if he was allergic to comfort. He kept his distance and even hesitated to reach over to grab a newspaper. They read in silence, the only sound coming occasionally from the turning of pages. He seemed to quickly forget about his awkwardness though, as he leaned in whenever he found something. He got closer each time and she took each opportunity to raise the blanket higher over him. He needed to sleep and he would, even if she had to sneak up on him. By the time he finished his mug, they were shoulder to shoulder, speaking in low voices in each other’s ear. Even in hushed tones, she could sense how enthusiastic he was about what he discovered one newspaper after the other. She could have listened to him talk for hours… if she wasn’t so exhausted. No matter how hard she tried to keep her eyes open, her head was drawing impossibly close to George’s shoulder. She was too comfortable to resist. When he noticed her dosing off, he spoke lower and lower before pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She sunk into a deeper slumber, George’s even breathing rocking her to sleep, until the turning of pages disturbed her ears. He wasn’t going to sleep unless she made him. With her eyes still closed, she traced her fingers up his torso to find his neck, his chin, and finally his glasses. She took them off before turning her back on him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Forcing you to get some sleep,” she mumbled.

“Give me back my glasses.”

“Come get them yourself.”

She was certain he would concede defeat after this. What she hadn’t expected was George laying down closer against her with his arms draped around her waist. She froze. His hands traced their way down her arms and his hands locked around hers, gently trying to nudge his glasses out of her hands. She held them tighter, unable to keep herself from smiling. He had his head in the crook of her neck and she felt a smile forming on his lips too.

“You’re impossible. You’re stubborn, insufferable-”

“You used that one earlier already.”

He laughed. “You’re just proving my point.”

A light laugh escaped her too, only it made her bruises act up again. She flinched.

George let go of her hand, his fingers traveling lightly over her side.

“Does it still hurt?”

“A little bit.”

He sighed in her neck, making her shiver.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t figure out sooner what the source was. I could have saved you the injury.”

Something clicked in her mind, clearing all desire to sleep for a moment.

“Is that why you’re staying up so late?”

He didn’t say anything back. She rolled back to face him, his hands now resting on her lower back.

“George, you’re not the reason why I couldn’t avoid running into a dresser.”

He laughed, but he avoided her eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault. Now please get some sleep.”

He looked back at her with intensity. His eyes looked dark in the dim light, almost black.

“On one condition.”

Before she could ask what he needed from her, he took it. His lips crashed against hers with a hunger she didn’t know he had. She was still in shock when he drew back, looking back at her hesitantly. He didn’t seem to know that she loved this unsuspected bold side of him. She tangled her fingers in his hair to pull him back in. He seemed surprised at first, but his hands quickly ran up her back to draw her nearer. She could have expected to feel anything from kissing George. Awkwardness, shyness, a few days ago she would have completely rejected the idea. She certainly wouldn’t have expected it to feel so right. His hands seemed to fit the small of her back like puzzle pieces locking perfectly in place. She was surprised at how quickly she had come to wanting more. She needed him, all of him, impossibly closer. She circled his hips with her leg while her hands roamed down his back. He smiled into each kiss, leaving her lips every now and then to trail her cheeks and down her neck. She looked back at him with sparkling eyes.

“So, one condition?”

“Don’t leave. Please.”

Her smile grew bigger.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

[vicxss]

Clarisse la rue x fem!reader

Summary: you and Clarisse take an evening swim in the sea

Warnings: none, pure cuteness

English is not my first language

I wake up half bewildered with knocks on the door of the chalet. My brothers are sleeping, I wish I had a heavy sleep so I get up and go to the door.When I open it I see Clarisse looking at the camp, afraid that someone will see her.

Y/N: Clarisse? , what are you doing here at this hour?. - I ask opening the door for her to enter

Clarisse: I wanted to bathe in the sea with you. - she enters and closes the door soon coming to hug me

Y/N: at this time?. - I feel her kiss my neck

Clarisse: lately we don’t have time just for the two of us, or we’re training or taking care of the kids. I want to spend time with my girlfriend. - talk and give me a kiss I understand her, I also want a time like this. We’ve been too busy with camp stuff to have some alone time, especially since no one knows we’re dating, but it had to be dawn?

Y/N: I also want to spend time with you, but it’s cold outside. - I speak and hide my face in her neck

Clarisse: I warm you up, I get very attached to you. - she squeezes me

S/N: ok, vou trocar de roupa. - Vou me separar e colocar um biquíni.

Once we're ready, we hold hands and go to the beach.

Y/N: are you sure no one will appear?. - I ask undressing

Clarisse: everyone is asleep, and Chiron has other more important parts of the camp to see. - she enters the water and calls me with her finger

Y/N: that was incredibly attractive. - I go to her and she lifts me up making me with my legs wrapped around her waist

Clarisse: everything I do looks attractive to you. - she smiles and runs her hand on my thigh

Y/N: it’s because my girlfriend is very beautiful, and has incredible muscles. - kiss her cheek and she gives an even bigger smile

Clarisse: yeah?, that’s because you haven’t seen mine yet. - speaks and begins to kiss me I run my arms around your neck lifting a little in your lap. She asks passage with her tongue and I release feeling her make a caress on my waist.

Y/N: we are not going to do it here, are just kisses heard La Rue?. - I ask separating when I feel her massage my breast

Clarisse: as you want princess. - says distributing kisses around my neckI hear a noise in the forest but when I pay more attention to Clarisse kisses me again. Safe in the back of his neck making a caress on the spot.We heard a whisper.

Chiron: isn’t it too late to be here demigoddesses?. - Ask and we split up on the spot

Y/N: Chiron? , we were just enjoying the beach. - I speak nervous trying to explain

Chiron: I believe they were really enjoying it, but they will still be grounded. - says as we leave

Clarisse: no dessert for a week?. - asks getting dressed and coming to help me

Chiron: for two, you could have been hurt if something appeared

Y/N: we know, we are sorry

Chiron: next time you want to be alone, find a less open place, anyone can come here. - speaks looking at us

Clarisse: was that a hint?. - ask me hugging

Chiron: it’s not the first time I’ve caught someone in this situation, that’s exactly why I come here. Now go back to the camp. - says and goes away

Clarisse: we just got caught and he just told us to be more careful. - asks looking where he went

Y/N: yes, but we are still without dessert

Clarisse: I think it was super worth it. - gives me a kiss on the forehead

Y/N: let’s go back, I’m shaking more than dog after bathing. - I talk and she starts laughing

Clarisse: I can’t believe you said that kkkk. - she laughs so much that she even puts her hand on her belly

Y/N: goes laughing even if I get sick is you who will take care of me. - I speak and point to her

Clarisse: I take care with pleasureThe way to the camp was filled with laughter and teeth.