#i think i made apollo too tall but it’s too late so just pretend he’s standing on a box

[taihokuns]

pov you caught them about to kiss

happy odonaru day! (10/7)

[naerysthelonesome]

Time spent together

Just a bunch of 3am coffee-induced Litpollo fics (they’re all related)

Part 1

College AU

Lit (Lityerses. Poor boy) is staring at Apollo, the tall, tan, lean but muscular, paragon of beauty with the most beautifully sculpted face I’ve ever seen (And believe me I’ve seen plenty), who’s currently shooting hoops in the basketball court. Off to the side, giving him pointers he does not need, is the smart-ass, Annabeth Chase. All right! Maybe I’m being a little harsh, but I’m really only here to talk about Lit and Apollo.

Oh look! Apollo’s attempting a backward jump shot.

Whatever. I’m sure he succeeds. The boy just cannot miss.

Let’s get back to Lit, shall we?

Of course. OF COURSE the angsty gay boy, with absolutely no social skills, falls for the gorgeous jock with a reputation for dazzling smiles, and leaving behind a trail of broken hearts.

May they can both bond over having the two most ridiculous names on campus.

If only I could tell Lit he looks ridiculous with his jaw hanging open like that. If only I could tell him that his being distracted by Apollo has put him in the path of that idiot Percy and his skateboard. Alas, I am only the narrator.

Percy crashes right into Lit, and they both tumble onto the ground like the pin-heads they are.

At least that caught the attention of the two blondes that caused this. They both jog over, Apollo letting out a short bark of laughter and Annabeth looking slightly concerned.

“Y’all okay?” the boy asks, standing over the two dark-haired dummies, shining like an angel and looking more picturesque than ever with the sun behind him.

“I- uh- Yeah”, Lit sputters. Of course he sputters. It’s quite understandable, honestly. At least he accepts the thinly veined, corded arm Apollo’s graciously reached out toward him.

“Percy! How many times have I told you to please watch where you’re going?” Annabeth asks exasperatedly. Percy does have quite a hit list.

“How can I look at anything but you, when you make it a point to look as gorgeous as that”, he says cheesily, gesturing up at her from the ground.

That draws a reluctant grin out of the girl.

“Oh shut up Perce!” she say, then turns to Lit, NOT graciously reaching an arm out to Percy.

“Sorry about that. My boyfriend’s a ditz”

“Yeah sorry”, Percy says standing up and grinning, “My girlfriend’s way to distracting for me not to be”.

I’m gonna throw up. Or at least I would, if I had a physical body.

“You are okay though, right?” Percy says to poor Lit, who’s been subjected to this disgusting gooeyness.

“Oh. Yeah yeah”, He says, now brushing gravel off his pants, “All good here”.

Annabeth mumbles something to Percy about getting late to class and they rush off. I really couldn’t care less.

Except.

This leaves Lit alone with Apollo.

Finally. They need to start talking. Like NOW. I can’t handle them throwing more furtive glances toward each other, and neither of the oblivious oglers picking up on any of it. IT’S BEEN TORTURE. (I should know. I’ve been tortured before.

“Oh! But how, Great narrator?!” you ask, “If you have no body?”

Well if you had any idea of the rules of etiquette, you’d know that that’s an incredibly rude question to ask. Therefore, we will be moving on)

Oh My God (not that I have one)! They’re talking! Now look what you’ve made me do. I’ve missed part of their conversation!

“Of course I like literature”, Lit says with a scoff, as if it’s obvious.

“All right all right”, Apollo relents, and then after a pause, “Can I walk you to class at least?”

“Oh” Is all the Lit the love-struck fool can say.

“Oh come on”, the golden boy say, grabbing Lit by the arm and hauling him in the direction of the west wing.

“Wait dumbass. I gotta get my books first!” he says pulling away from Apollo.

He runs a hand through his curls, and a blush creeps up Apollo’s slender neck. Of course, Lit doesn’t notice. It’s like they’re trying not to see the tell-tale signs of fist love!

“Just wait here a second, and I’ll fetch them”, Lit says and dashes away without waiting for a response.

Apollo’s hands find their way into his pockets, as he schools his face into bearing a nonchalant expression. Oy.

There’s students milling about, gossiping and trading notes. It’s a fine summer morning. The wind is whistling through the big birch tree, and blowing through the hair of the two girls kissing under it. Oh look! There’s a lone grasshopper…

Well this is boring. How do other narrators do it? Where on Earth is Lit?!

Ah finally. Here he comes, three large books in his arms. The collar of his shirt is wet, and his face looks considerably less splotchy. Well that explains why he took so long.

“Three books? For English lit?” Apollo asks, his arms completely devoid of books, or any other classroom material.

“I get bored”, Lit shrugs as if that explains everything.

So English lit must’ve been what they were discussing before. Unless they were exchanging famous quotes of love and desire from popular classics, which I highly doubt, that was a boring fist conversation.

Ah well. They can make up for it later.

Our journey through the green and into the classroom is entirely uneventful. I would’ve thought Apollo, being the confident social butterfly he is, would have at least struck up a conversation with Lit, but apparently feelings get in the way of such things.

How tiresome.

“Settle down. Settle down”, the woman at the front of the class says, sharply rapping her knuckles against the desk. Her name escapes me…

Anyway, Lit and Apollo make their way to seats as far away from each other as they can manage, both looking slightly disappointed when the other doesn’t stop them. Dorks.

“Now as I mentioned last week, I will be assigning each of you a project partner. I expect you to put in equal effort and come up with creative and suitably appropriate papers”, Ms. Teach says, picking up a list of names. No, that’s not her real name. I wish it was. It would’ve been suitably appropriate.

She rattles off some names. Someone complains. She patiently listens to their complaint and comes back with a refusal. The student angrily flops into his seat, waking up the peacefully snoring person beside him. They glare at him, then at the class and Ms. Rap-knuckles. No one pays them any mind.

Lit listens intently and Apollo pretends not to. There’s a bee merrily buzzing around the classroom. It bangs against a window, then bangs itself against the window again. Interesting. I think I need coffee. I can’t drink any but it sure does smell good…

“Apollo and Lityerses”.

Oh. Now this is a great turn of events!

“Seems fitting”, Ms. Good-at-student-pairing says, with a slight smirk.

Lit looks surprised and angry all at once, his face flushed. Apollo looks like he’s trying really hard not to care, but his mouth is threatening to betray him and reveal his, already quite clear, happiness.

The teacher continues to pair off students, as Lit stares furiously at his book, as if he’s trying to ignite the pages. Apollo looks at his nails, then at Lit, then back at his nails.

A half hour later the bell, blessedly, rings. Lit’s hurriedly making his way to the door.

But why?? He’s going to have to spend time with Apollo anyway!

Oh good, Apollo’s caught his arm.

“Hey we should talk about the project”, he says.

“What’s there to talk about?” Lit replies.

Um… is his crush’s presence causing his brain to malfunction?? I wouldn’t really be surprised if that were the case, consider that his crush is the magnificent Apollo.

“You know… Where we’re gonna do the project, what topic we’re going to pick, et cetera”, the blond says slowly, as if he’s worried about the same thing.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about it. You go shoot hopes, or dazzle people, or whatever it is you do, and I’ll finish the project. I’m not great at working with people anyway. You’ll get your credit”.

Apollo looks high-key offended for a second, but then laughs.

“Is that all you think of me Lit?” he says, “That I’m just some dumb blond jock trope?”

“‘Mythological retellings’ is one of my favorite topics to read about, so that’s the one we’re choosing for our project”, Apollo continues decidedly.

“What? You don’t get to pick the topic by yourself”, Lit snaps at him.

“Why not? What’s wrong with it? Too challenging for you?” Apollo says, smirk gracing his perfect lips.

Everybody here who knows Lit knows he can’t help but rise to a challenge. Now the topic’s practically set in stone.

“Of course not.” Lit says, resentful but stubborn, “Fine then. When do we begin?”

Apollo smiles wide this time, and I can see the blush creeping up Lit’s neck.

“Meet me at the coffee shop just off campus. 3p.m. Right after class”.

[lotusss-flowerbomb]

What We Have (3)

Viktor Drago x reader

Warnings: None for this chapter.

Summary: Reader is Adonis’ adopted sister, she and Viktor falls for one another.

Word Count: 2,505

********

You'd been visiting your brother every day while he was in the hospital. You were standing beside Rocky when he yelled at him. That made you even more nervous about him finding out about the kiss and now the toe curling, mind blowing sex.

When he was discharged, he and Bianca decided to stay with you and your mom since he needed a little help and she was getting far along into the pregnancy.

As the weeks went by and he was getting better. The tension started to ease around the house just a bit. You were in the kitchen talking to your mother when he stormed in.

"Aye, what's this?!" He tossed his phone in front of you.

You stared down at the screen and up at him.

"Shit, umm, I..." You stuttered and looked at your mother.

"This ain't cool. This man tried to take my life!"

"That was before the fight," you said as if that were any better.

"This ain't cool."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"It's too late for all that! But you wouldn't understand, because it wasn't your father that was killed!" He yelled and snatched the phone up.

"Hey! Woah, alright now!" Your mother interjected.

"Really, Adonis? You gonna throw the little adopted baby story in my face?" Your eyes filled with tears.

"I will not have that, sit down," your mom directed him.

"Nah, I'm good," he said before trying to leave the room.

"I said sit down and I will not be saying it again." She waited for him to have a seat.

Adonis may have been a six foot tall heavyweight boxing champion, but when Mary Anne Creed went into mama bear mode, everyone listened. Including him.

"Now, I will not have my children going at one another like this. We will sit here and we will work it out. Adonis, don't you ever, and I do mean ever, again throw her adoption in her face. She is just as much mine and Apollo’s daughter as you are my son." She silently reminded him that she’d actually adopted him.

"Look, I ain't mean it like that, aight?" He said to you.

"I know what I've done is wrong, but it's done. At this point, all I can do is —" you stopped mid sentence and jumped from your seat.

You raced to the trash can and threw up.

"Yo, you good?!" He ran over to you. "I didn't mean to upset you so much. I just got mad and I shouldn't have said that."

"I'm good, I'm cool," you said as you wiped your mouth with the napkin your mother handed you.

"Here, sip this, it should settle your stomach," she handed you a glass of salt water.

You took one small sip and then another. Your family stood by and watched as you gulped down the entire glass.

"Oh my goodness, I really needed that. Thanks, mommy." You set the glass on the counter top.

"Ugh, okay, I'm out." Adonis said and left.

Your mother looked at you oddly.

"Are you pregnant?" She inquired.

"What? No!" You said.

"Haven't heard you complaining about cramps lately."

"Well, that's because my period isn't due for another... like..." You counted your fingers.

Once you realized that your math wasn't adding up you pulled out your phone and looked through your calendar.

"Shit!" You ran away to your room, but you knew you'd only bought the one test that day.

"What's going on?" Bianca walked in and asked.

"I did something so stupid. So very very stupid," you covered your face.

"Again?"

"Hey!"

"I am far too pregnant to pretend... Oh," she grabbed her stomach.

"What's wrong? Are you —" you looked at the growing wet spot on her pants. "Mommaaa!" You yelled.

You stared at the results in your hands.

"Are you sure?" You questioned the nurse. "I can pee again just to make sure."

"We've tested you twice Ms. Creed, the results are accurate," she assured.

While your brother was a few doors down bringing his baby girl into the world, you were finding out that you weren't too far behind with your own.

What were you gonna do with a baby? A baby by Viktor Drago of all the people in the world. You thanked the nurse, folded the papers up as small as possible and headed back down the hall.

"Uncle Rocky!" You threw your arms around his shoulders.

"Hey, where you been?" He asked.

"Oh, um, I just needed to take a walk. All the excitement was getting to me." You straight up lied to his face.

"Everything okay?" Your mother asked. She knew where you'd gone.

"Yes, all good," you lied to her too.

The doctor walked out to give you all an update and invite you inside of the room. Baby Amara had been delivered safely.

You sighed with relief. Saved just in time before she could question you.

You saw Viktor challenging Adonis on TV again. Saying if he didn't agree to a rematch then he wasn't a real champion. That clip originally aired a week ago. You rubbed your stomach. Three months had passed and you were finally getting a little pooch. Pretty soon, you wouldn't be able to hide this.

You smiled down at your niece. She was such a happy baby. You talked to her even knowing that she couldn't hear you. You held her close, so that she'd learn the vibrations of your voice. She always smiled back.

"That's a good look on you," Adonis said from behind you.

You laid the baby on her play mat and waved him over to sit. You leaned your head on his shoulder.

"You're gonna fight him again aren't you?" You sighed.

"Yeah, I talked to B and unc is gonna train me this time." He confirmed.

"I have to tell you something," you felt the tears stinging your eyes. You weren't exactly sure how he'd react, but judging by the last time, you knew it wouldn't be good.

"What's up?"

You unzipped the light jacket you were wearing and stood up. His face dropped.

"Tell me it's not his," he rubbed his hands over his face.

"It is and I'm keeping my baby," you let him know before he could ask.

"I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch!" He punched the wall.

"Donnie—"

"No! I don't want to hear that shit. He used you to get under my skin and laugh in my face and you fell right into his trap!"

"What if everything isn't about you, Adonis? Have you ever thought about that? What we had was real, even if it was just for a moment."

"You really think he gives a damn about you?" He yelled.

The tears you'd been holding dropped. You didn't know if your feelings were actually hurt or if it was hormones, but his words hit hard. Of course you'd thought about that, but it's not something you wanted to believe.

You couldn't argue with him. You were far more upset than you needed to be. You kissed your niece and turned to leave.

"Don't think I'ma go easy on him either. Not after what he did to me." He huffed.

You kept going as he spoke to your back. You should've said something. Anything. Because you didn't know when the next time would be when you spoke to your brother.

You walked into the arena and went straight to your seat. You hadn't spoken to Adonis since you left his apartment that day. It had been almost two months.

"Did you go wish your brother luck?" Your mother asked.

"No, I didn't want to upset him and throw him off his game." You said.

"Mm, and how are you feeling?"

"I'm okay, nervous, but okay." You tugged at the hem of the oversized hoodie dress you'd worn. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep your secret. Pretty soon you'd have to go ghost so nobody would ask you questions.

The lights dimmed and Viktor walked out. He had more than just Ivan by his side this time around. You snorted. They were riding his coattails, every single one of them.

He looked over at you briefly and then turned his attention to the other side of the ring. That's when you saw her. Ludmilla, his mother, sitting proudly on the sidelines. You willed yourself not to go over there and kick her square in the chest.

The lights dimmed again pulling you from your thoughts. Bianca started singing and Adonis and his crew walked out behind her. You cheered them on.

She walked past the ring and stood next to you and your mother. She gave your growing belly a discreet little rub as you watched Adonis climb in.

You sat down and took a deep breath when they touched gloves. This was it. The moment you'd been dreading since you woke up this morning. You knew one of them would come out of this hurt. It was inevitable.

When the fight started Viktor went in heavy.  You jumped back to your feet with the rest of the crowd. Adonis took some hits and avoided some. Your heart skipped a beat with every jab.

Adonis hits him with a quick combo and you cheered him on.

"That's it, D! Stay focused!" You yelled.

The two kept going after one another round after round. Split eyes, bloody noses. It seemed to be never ending.

Once round 4 was closing, you saw Viktor hold on to him and punch him twice in the ribs.

"What the fuck?!" You tried to get over to the other side, but security held on to you.

"How did you not see that?!" You yelled at the ref. "What the fuck is wrong with you Viktor?!"

He turned his back to you. You pushed the guard off of you and turned back to your family. The fight needed to be stopped, but you knew once again that Adonis wouldn't allow it.

You saw Viktor look over at Ludmilla just before the bell. The two men went in swinging once again. You could see Viktor going for Adonis' ribs again. He hit him and your brother dropped again.

"Get up, Adonis! You got this, brother, get up!!" You screamed.

You sighed with relief once he was back on his feet. He went at Viktor like a mad man. He dropped him, but Viktor got back up. He dropped him a second time and then you saw it. She was leaving.

Once again, his mother was walking out on him. He looked over while he was still down and saw the empty seats while he was pulling himself up. He went back in for more.

Adonis wasn't backing off. Hit after hit until he backed him into a corner. Viktor wouldn't stop. He was refusing to give up. Your heart dropped. Before you knew it, you were screaming at Ivan.

"Stop this, Ivan! He's gonna kill him, please!" You pleaded.

He finally threw in the towel. You were sad for Viktor, but you were happy for your brother. You, your mother and Bianca ran to Adonis to be at his side. You could see Viktor breaking down in the corner.

For the first time since you'd known them Ivan hugged his son. The Dragos left the ring, but you stayed put and kept your emotions in check as best you could.

"Aye, go check on your boy." Adonis said to you.

"No, Donnie, that'll look bad for you, I'll do it later," you declined.

"He needs you," his voice softened, "all of you."

You ran away to the locker rooms. You pushed past all of the reporters waiting for him to come out and banged on the door. Ivan pulled it open and stood in front of you as if he wasn't going to let you pass. The reporters shouted out questions as the two of you stood in a stare down.

Fed up, you squeezed past him. Now was not the time for him to act like a fool. You found Viktor sitting in a corner with his head hanging low. You stood beside him.

"Get out, you shouldn't be here," he said.

You could hear his soft sobs. You reached out to touch him, but pulled your hand back.

"You put up a good fight, Viktor... Even though you held on to him to crack his ribs again." You said to him. You wouldn't be you had you not mentioned it.

"I know," he exhaled.

You wanted to scream at him, but you couldn't kick him while he was down. So you lifted his chin up, so he'd look at you. His left eye was swollen shut, his lip was split and you could see traces of dried blood on his nose.

He gently pushed your hand away.

"She left me again," his voice was low. "She was ashamed of me and I would rather have died than fail."

"Oh, Viktor, baby..."

"You should go. Leave me like she did, because I don't deserve you."

"Sweetheart, I'll never leave you," you grabbed his hands and pressed them to your growing bump. "We will never leave you."

It took him a moment to understand what you were saying, but his eyes glittered with tears again once the realization set in.

"You're..." He started.

"Mmm hmm," you nodded.

"And we made this?"

"We did."

He placed kisses all over your belly.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He asked.

"It was hard considering everything that was going on. I should have, but I didn't really know how." You admitted.

He couldn't take his hands off of you. He was already in love.

"Is it boy or girl?"

"I don't know yet. I figured we could find out what they are together."

"They?" He looked at you in shock.

You were so excited when you found out you were having twins, but you weren't exactly sure how he'd react to the news. First of you being pregnant and then the fact that you were having twins.

He stood and hugged you tight. He was happy. He silently promised to always be there for you and his kids.

Ivan cleared his throat. You'd forgotten that he was even in the room. Viktor stood in front of you like a shield as his father made his way over to you.

The older man stopped in his tracks when he realized what his son was doing. He understood why his first instinct would be to protect you, but he loved his son, so he'd never hurt you.

"Pozdravlyayu, congratulations" he hugged him and then gave you a nod.

"Wait, Ivan, was that a smile??" You asked.

He couldn't keep the grin off of his face. He was genuinely happy for his son. He'd have a family. Something that he always wanted. And after seeing his ex wife walk away from them again, he thinks it's time for him to move on as well.

********

@titty-teetee​

@bluestarego​ 

@marvelmaree​

@literaturefeen​

@fandomfavesss​ 

@savageiz​

@scoop93535​

@rochyu​ 

[roman-writing]

A Study in Hospitality (1/?)

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses / Percy Jackson and the Olympians

Pairing: Hilda Valentine Goneril / Marianne von Edmund

Rating: T

Wordcount: 8,395

Summary: There’s a new student at camp half-blood. Hilda, daughter of Aphrodite, has been tasked with showing her around. A Percy Jackson and the Olympians AU

Author’s note: I’m so predictable for writing this…..

read it below the cut, or you can read it here on AO3

“The assignment was to fall in love.

The details were up to you.”

-Louise Gluck, ‘Averno’ 

–

Everyone was always excited whenever a new batch of half-bloods rolled into camp. Not that many of them would admit it, Hilda included. Mostly they pretended to be bored at the concept of introducing new students to the grounds, in the hopes that they would come off as cool and aloof.

Unlike the others however, Hilda didn’t have to try very hard. She could pull off cool any time, any day. And everyone knew it. 

So, when a sleek black limousine rolled up, students idled around the camp’s main square in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the new blood. The windows of the car were darkly tinted, which meant that nobody could get a good look inside. Honestly, it looked more like a hearse than anything else.

Hilda leaned against a pillar, and twirled a lock of shockingly pink hair around one finger. She arched a curious eyebrow at the limo as it rumbled to a halt with a high whine of brakes. 

It could use some new brake fluid. Technically speaking she could do it, but she wouldn’t be caught dead beneath the hood of a vehicle. She had an image to uphold. Not to mention the havoc it would wreak on her manicure.

“My money is on Ares,” Claude said beside her. 

Hilda rolled her eyes. “You say that every time.”

“Because I’m right.”

“I hope not. The last thing we need is more meat-heads.” Hilda scrunched up her nose at a few other students loitering nearby, who were all clearly in Ares Cabin. One of them was challenging another to do push-ups. Hilda watched as the challenge was accepted with gusto.

Shirts came off, and the two boys dropped to the grass of the central field. For all their faults, at least the children of Ares had some rockin’ bods. 

Claude nudged her, and she dragged her reluctant attention away from the Ares boys.

The driver had stepped out of the vehicle. An honest to god butler-looking guy, complete with waistcoat and spotless white gloves. He rushed to one of the passenger doors, and opened it.

An old man unfolded from the bone-white leather seats inside. His suit was ashen but impeccable and pinstriped. He had silver hair and a hatchet face. When he stood to his full spindly height, he seemed to loom despite his heron’s stoop and the silver-headed cane clutched in his hand. 

He was no god – at least none that Hilda recognised – though he could not have been fully mortal. Mortals couldn’t cross the camp lines. 

Seteth stepped forward. When he nodded his head, it was like a bow of deference. “Margrave Edmund, thank you for joining us. You are most welcome here. I will look after your daughter personally.”

Hilda and Claude exchanged puzzled glances. Generally Seteth preferred a more hands off approach, letting professors Hanneman and Manuela take charge of lectures and whatnot. Seteth only ever dealt with individual students for special cases. Like delivering punishments, or handing out missions.

The Margrave had eyes like pale and tarnished coins. He bowed his head in return. “Thank you, Cichol. I entrust her to your care.”

A strange shiver ran through the earth at the sound of Seteth’s true Titan name. Seteth himself seemed unperturbed by the casual use of it. Meanwhile Hilda was left wondering how the hell this guy – fancy titles or no – managed to get away with using that name without being struck down by spears of light from the heavens.

“What daughter?” Hilda whispered.

Even as she spoke, another figure stirred within the shadows of the limousine. A girl stepped from the vehicle after her father. Hilda blinked in surprise. Most newcomers were young. They tended to be anywhere between ten and fifteen years of age, when they first arrived at camp half-blood. But this girl could not have been under the age of twenty, or Hilda would eat crow.

She was tall, thin, and gaunt as a blade. She wore a dark dress that made her dark eyes appear even larger and more lustrous. There was an odd quality to her pale hair, like the sheen of blued steel. Hilda might have thought it were dyed, if this girl didn’t look like the least likely candidate for hair dyeing. Her skin held a pallor as though she rarely saw the sun, and she seemed to shrink away from the bright early afternoon light. 

The driver pulled a black suitcase from the boot of the limo, and deposited it at her feet. When he got a bit too close to her, she shied away from him. She tried to mask it as though she were reaching up to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. It did little to help her overall bedraggled personal appearance. Next to her sleek half-mortal father, she appeared disheveled, and not in an artful way. Honestly, Hilda probably could have tied a better messy bun in her sleep. 

Claude leaned over and whispered to Hilda, “My bet is rich heiress of old money.”

“Hmm…” Hilda took a moment to consider her best guess. “I’m going to go with: orphan adopted by screwball philanthropist.”

“Twenty bucks?”

“Oh, you’re on, pretty boy.”

They shook hands. 

“Marianne,” Seteth said with another of his pseudo-bows, “It is lovely to meet you. Please, if there’s anything I can do to improve your stay, let me know.”

For a moment she said nothing. She seemed afraid that Seteth was going to bite her or something. When she did finally speak, her voice was soft and tremulous. “Thank you.”

After speaking, she looked to Margrave Edmund as if for confirmation that she had said the right thing. He gave her none. Indeed, he did not so much as put his hand on her shoulder for comfort before nodding towards Seteth and folding himself back up into the limo. 

The driver – butler? whatever – shut the door behind him, then trotted around to his own door. Marianne did not turn to watch the limo go, though at one point her dark eyes flickered in the direction of the dust plumes that rose in its wake. Immediately however, Marianne lowered her gaze to her own feet. 

When the limo had gone from sight, Seteth gestured towards the suitcase. “Allow me.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll take it.” Marianne picked up the bag before Seteth could even reach for it. She spoke so softly, it was difficult to hear her over the raucous noise of the nearby Ares boys. 

Claude hummed a contemplative note under his breath. “Either the heiress has something in that bag she doesn’t want anyone to see, or she isn’t as pampered as I’d originally thought.”

Hilda shot him a dirty look. “Why do you always think someone is hiding something?”

“Because they usually are.”

“Well, newsflash, but it reflects poorly on your own character. Just - y’know - an FYI.”

He shushed her, craning his neck as though it would help him better overhear what was going on further down the field. Seteth was leading Marianne across the centre of the field, the exact opposite direction from cabin eleven. 

“Not an undetermined, then,” Claude muttered to himself. “Aphrodite?”

At the sound of her own mother, Hilda snorted. “Aphrodite? Not likely. Look at her, and then look at me.”

“Alright, point taken. So, Athena, then.”

“I dunno,” Hilda tongued at the inside of her cheek. “She seems a bit dreary, even for the Athena kids.”

Hilda and Claude watched from beneath the shelter of decorative white-marble pillars, as Seteth led Marianne across the field. A number of other curious faces also turned to follow their path, eager to learn of where this newcomer fell into their ranks. 

Seteth stopped before the Demeter cabin, and knocked on the door. 

“Wait, really?” Claude said. “She doesn’t seem like a child of Demeter.”

“Wow. Prejudiced, much?”

Claude pointed towards a small cluster of the Demeter kids that had emerged from the cabin to greet their newest member. “Just look at them. And then look at her.”

Hilda pursed her lips at having her own words thrown back at her. But she had to admit, he had a point. She didn’t tell him that, though. His head wouldn’t fit on his shoulders otherwise. Children of Apollo were almost always predisposed towards a certain cocky arrogance, and he had it in spades.

But the new girl definitely didn’t look anything like the other children of Demeter. Where Marianne was narrow and gaunt, the Demeter kids were homey and apple-cheeked. When Mercedes, the head of Demeter cabin, stood beside Marianne, the contrast could not have been more stark. Mercedes held out her hand to shake, but Marianne backed away a step as if the thought of being touched repulsed her. 

Claude gave a sympathetic wince. “Oooh, chilly.” 

“Okay, okay if you’re so sure that she’s undetermined, then why doesn’t Seteth just put her in with the Hermes kids like all the others?” Hilda asked.

“I don’t know,” Claude mused. He had that look on his face he always got when he stumbled across a particularly convoluted puzzle. “But I intend to find out.”

Hilda patted him on the shoulder. “Well, good luck with that.”

When she turned to walk away, intent on heading back towards the arts and crafts centre to work on her latest jewelry piece, Claude called after her. “Wait -? You really don’t care about getting to the bottom of this?”

“Nope!” Without looking back, she waved at him. “Later!”

–

Before the day could end – heck, even before dinner – Hilda ran into Seteth on the path between the mess hall and the cabins. She only caught sight of him at the last second as she was rounding the bend and humming to herself, when it was far too late to leap into the bushes and hide. Just her luck. 

Raising her hand, Hilda greeted him with a cheeriness that was way too over the top. “Oh, Seteth! Good day to you, and farewell!”

And with that, she turned heel and began power walking in the opposite direction. Screw dinner. She could sneak into the dining pavilion later. 

“Just a moment, Hilda. How are you feeling?”

With a low groan, Hilda stopped in her tracks. She closed her eyes, and took a moment to gather herself before she could turn back towards him with a forced smile on her face. “Oh! Ah, fine! I’m - I’m doing just fine. Thank you so much for asking!”

His eyes were a piercing green. He never seemed to need to blink. “Is that so? I’d heard you had fallen ill to a headache, and one of your fellow colleagues took over your duties of sweeping the armoury for the day. How thoughtful of them.” 

“Well, you know how it is.” Hilda rocked back and forth between heel and toe. “My friends are just so kind and helpful like that.”

“Indeed. You should count your blessings that you have been so favoured.” His stare bore into her as though he were balancing her very spirit on the bronzed edge of a sword. 

“Oh, I do! I - uh - I definitely do. Count. Every day.” A nervous little laugh escaped her at that. She could hear her voice strain slightly beneath the charmspeak laced into her words. She never could refrain from a bit of hypnotism when she was angry or nervous. It was a bad habit from her younger days. 

Of course, it did nothing to Seteth. The magic washed over him like water from a duck’s back. “Excellent. I’m glad to hear it,” he said. “In fact, now that I know you have recovered, I have an assignment for you.”

Hilda’s heart skipped a beat. An assignment? She hadn’t been given an assignment in, like, years. 

Okay. Maybe it had only been six months. But that was forever ago. This camp was only so big, and even if she wasn’t a year-rounder, she was so bored. 

She immediately brightened. “Well, why didn’t you say so! Let’s hear it, then.”

Seteth’s hands were clasped behind his back in an officious pose. He looked like a statue. One of those stiff Egyptian ones. “I take it you, along with the rest of the camp, have heard about the newest addition to our ranks? Marianne von Edmund?”

“Yes,” Hilda said slowly, wondering if this was some sort of trick question. “Is she going to be joining me on the mission or something?” 

“Hardly. Marianne doesn’t know anybody here, and I need you to do what you do best.”

“Which is -?” Hilda made a gesture with her hands, implying that Seteth should expand upon that topic. She was very good at a great many things. He was going to need to be a bit more specific.  

“Befriend her, of course,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

She waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. She frowned in puzzlement. “What? Why me?”

“Because you are one of the camp’s most senior students -”

“Gee. Thanks.”

“- And because you know everyone, and everyone knows you. Which means that you can be a conduit for her to the rest of the camp. Introduce her to others. Make her feel at home.”

“Uhhhh everyone knows you, too. Why can’t you show her around?”

Seteth’s brows drew down. “I am the camp overseer. I have many duties to attend to, and while I hate to admit it, I cannot be everywhere at once. I am asking you to do this because I know you are the most capable for the job.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to expect too much from me?”

“At least once more.” Something like the faintest hint of a smile touched the corners of Seteth’s mouth before vanishing once again. “Truth be told, I have always harboured high hopes for you. Especially after having trained your brother.”

It was true. Holst used to be the head of Aphrodite cabin. Everyone expected Hilda to do the same, which is exactly why she didn’t. 

Head of a Cabin? Yikes. Way too much responsibility. 

Hilda made a face. “No, thank you. And why can’t Mercedes have this assignment? She’s the head of Demeter cabin. She’s the one who should be showing her newbie the ropes.”

“It is important that Marianne is made to feel at home here. Unless you would like to excuse yourself from the sacred duties of hospitality?”

At that, Hilda’s blood ran cold. If there was one thing you did not mess with, it was xenia, the sacred concept of hospitality. She’d heard stories of those who broke the rules of hospitality, and she rather liked keeping her organs arranged in the way they currently were, thanks. 

With a huff, Hilda crossed her arms and accepted her fate. “Ugh. Fine. Whatever.”

“You are disappointed,” Seteth said. It was not a question.

“Well, yeah,” Hilda mumbled. She scraped the toe of her shoe against the ground, sketching out a misshapen heart in the dirt. “When you said ‘assignment,’ I thought you meant with, like, weapons. And monsters. And going out there." 

She gestured towards the treeline in the West, which demarcated the camp from the rest of the world. 

Seteth looked in the direction indicated with a heavy, thoughtful expression. "Trust me when I tell you, Hilda, that this assignment is the most important you will receive during your time here.”

Hilda snorted. “What? Showing around The Marquise Mopey?”

At that, Seteth’s eyes flashed. He looked at her, and she paled. In his face she could see the blood-drenched earth, the frenzied clash of spear and shield from time immemorial. Sometimes it was easy to forget that he was not in fact the soft-spoken gentleman façade he wore, but one of the five Kouretes. Ancient, Titan-born, and brother of the Furies. A deity of wild mountainsides, an inventor of rustic arts, the first of the armoured warrior-gods.

His voice was soft yet dangerous; it bore the weight of millenia when he spoke, “If I hear that you have been anything but kind and generous to our guest, you will answer to me personally. Do you understand?”

Hilda held up her hands as if to fend off a physical blow. “Woah! Relax. I wasn’t going to be all mean girls towards her, or anything. I love making friends!“

In an instant, the intensity faded from his gaze as though it had never been, though the air around him still seemed too warm. Or perhaps that was just the early summer heat. "Good. Then you’ll have no issue attending dinner with her.”

“Wait, you mean, like, right now?”

He arched a cool eyebrow at her. “Is that a problem?”

“What? No! Not at all! I’m going to crush this assignment. You’ll see. I’m hospitality incarnate.” Hilda ran a hand through her hair, and lifted her chin. “Hell, I’m the most charming person in this place! How hard can it be?”

–

As it turned out, it was hard. Very hard. 

For starters, Marianne was difficult to even track down. Hilda looked everywhere. Demeter Cabin was empty, but for Ashe, who was watering the plants out front even though he could make them grow just by snapping his fingers. He claimed Marianne hadn’t spoken more than two words to him since her arrival, before she promptly vanished like smoke. The last he heard, Mercedes and Seteth had been giving her a tour of the camp.

It took Hilda over an hour to find her. By the end, she had given up on asking people if they had seen a tall, morose newcomer since her arrival, because nobody had. Not a single soul. It wasn’t until Hilda had well and truly given up – honestly, screw this; she was hungry and it was dinner time – that she spotted her. Hilda was emerging from the armoury, having given up all hope, when she blinked. 

There, wandering at the edge of the forest, was Marianne. The dark blue of her long dress blended into the shadows of the woods. She looked like a lost spirit, the setting sun chasing her footsteps but never truly reaching her. As though the light were afraid to touch even the delicate gold embroidery of her hems. 

Hilda lifted her hands to her mouth, and yelled, “Hey! Hey, you by the forest!! Yeah, you!”

At the first sound of Hilda’s voice, Marianne had stopped. She pointed to herself, then looked over her shoulder, as though there were the off chance Hilda was actually addressing a tree behind her or something. 

“Don’t move! Just stay right there!” Hilda started jogging over, and boy if that wasn’t dedication then she didn’t know what was. These heels were not made for running. Seteth had better give her such a good fucking score on this assignment. 

Hilda slid to a halt, nearly tripping as her heels caught on a loose stone in the ground. But she made the recovery as gracefully as she could manage. Which was super graceful. Divinely graceful, even. Well, semi-divine anyway. Close enough. 

Luckily, Marianne followed instructions. She had not moved. Now, she blinked languidly at Hilda, her expression guarded, her stance tense, as though she were ready to bolt at any sudden movements. 

Hilda pointed into the thick darkness of the forest. “You really shouldn’t go out into the forest alone. There are all sorts of monsters in there. Didn’t Seteth or Mercedes tell you that? Honestly!”

Marianne glanced towards the woods, but she seemed curious rather than afraid. “What kind of monsters?”

“I dunno. Minotaurs. Dragons. Hellhounds. All sorts.”

“Right,” Marianne said slowly. “And those…are bad?”

Hilda stared at her. “Yes. Yes, those are very bad.”

Marianne’s shoulders caved inwards as she seemed to shrink away from her. “Sorry.”

Oh, geesh. As far as first exchanges went, they were off to a bad start. Shit. Dazzle time. 

“No, I’m sorry. I’m being very rude.” Hilda straightened to her full height, which barely reached Marianne’s chin even when Marianne slouched like she was now. Hilda smiled as brilliantly as she knew how – which was Very Brilliant, let’s be honest – and held out her hand. “I’m Hilda. You’re Marianne, right? Nice to meet you!”

“Oh. Um - Hello.” Marianne did not take her hand. Instead, she lifted her own to her chest, and gave a nervous flutter of her fingers before clenching her hand into a fist beneath her collarbone. 

A long moment of silence passed. Hilda lowered her hand. She tried to think of some way to break the ice, but each time a topic came to mind, it sloughed out of reach as though Marianne’s very presence rejected friendly conversation. Like trying to push together a set of repelling magnets.

It was the first time Hilda had ever been at a complete loss in a social situation. She wasn’t sure she liked it. 

Eventually, Marianne said, “I’m sorry. I’m not very good at interacting with people.”

“What? No! It’s fine. You’re fine,” Hilda lied. “I’m just glad I found you when I did. Next time you come out here, be sure to bring a friend. That’s all.“

Marianne stared at her as though she were a hydra and had grown an extra head. "I don’t have friends.”

“Well, that’s very rude of you. I’m right here, thank you very much.” Hilda grinned, and brushed some of her long hair over one shoulder with a flounce. 

If anything Marianne appeared taken aback. Her head jerked as if she had been struck, and she looked Hilda over. “What -?”

“No, no, you don’t need to say anything. A simple ‘thank you’ will suffice.”

“Th - Thank you?”

“You’re very welcome. Hey. It’s dinner time. Want to walk with me to the dining pavilion? I’ll point out everyone to you, so you know names and stuff. Sound good?”

“Um -”

“Great. C'mon! It’s this way.”

Gesturing for Marianne to follow, Hilda started walking in the direction of the dining pavilion. For a moment she heard no movement behind her. Then, hesitant footsteps. Marianne walked silently; Hilda could barely hear the rustle of leaves and the press of earth in every step. Hilda talked as they walked. She pointed out various landscapes and features, revealing hidden information about them that absolute squares like Seteth wouldn’t have told their newest member.

“If you want a really good time,” Hilda said as they strode along the pathway that followed the lake, “Take a dip in here at night.”

“What monsters are in the lake at night?”

“Absolutely none. It’s just fun!” Then Hilda amended, “Well, that’s not strictly true. I mean, there are totally monsters living in there. But the point is that at night the water is still all warm from the day, so it’s really nice. Plus it’s about the adventure of it, you know?”

That only seemed to puzzle Marianne all the more. Still, Hilda glanced over to find Marianne studying the lake with a faint gleam of curiosity in her eyes. 

Hilda winked. “I’ll take you out one night. It’ll be fun!”

Ducking her head, Marianne mumbled, “I’m not a very good swimmer.”

“No time like the present! Am I right?”

“I guess.”

“Don’t worry. I’m a great teacher. And I definitely won’t let you drown, or get eaten by a monster, or die, or - y’know -” Hilda shrugged. “- whatever. Because that’s what friends are for.”

To that, Marianne made no reply. She offered no further comments, allowing Hilda to carry the conversation all the way to the pavilion perched over the edge of the lake. Hilda was all too happy to do so; she filled up the silence with idle chatter. And yet, she never once got the impression that Marianne wasn’t listening. Quite the opposite, in fact. 

The sun was setting over the hills by the time they arrived at the pavilion. Their shadows lengthened along the ground. Hilda noticed but made no comment on how Marianne’s shadow was nearly twice as long as her own. Marianne was taller, after all. That must have been the reason why. 

The dining pavilion had not walls, only pillars lined with torches, but rain and wind never seemed to be able to get inside. Other students were already crowding the large tables that surrounded a central brazier bearing a bed of red-hot coals. Hilda stopped at the edge of the pavilion, and turned to Marianne. 

“Alright, first thing’s first. You can’t sit at another god’s table. That’s just the rules. So, you’ll be over there.” Hilda waved her hand towards the Demeter table, where Mercedes and Ashe were already seated. 

For some reason, that made Marianne shrink a bit more. She tugged at the ends of her long sleeves so that her hands were partially covered. The action reminded Hilda of a turtle trying to retract into its shell. “What if there’s nobody else in your Cabin?”

“Then you sit alone, unless you get special permission. It sucks. I know. But it’s only for meal times and sleeping. And luckily you and I don’t have to worry about that. Anyway, that brings us to our next point.” Hilda began to tick off names on her ringed fingers. “Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades Cabins are all empty. The Big Three haven’t had kids in, like, centuries, because their kids are always too powerful and kind of a pain in the neck or whatever. Hera Cabin and Artemis Cabin are also empty because goddess of marriage and goddess of virgins. Don’t like philandering, blah blah blah. You know the drill. Then we have the rest.”

Hilda pointed out each group in turn throughout the mess hall. “You already know the Demeter kids, so I won’t bother. There’s Hermes Cabin over there. Wanderers and thieves and lost souls. Undetermined kids go there, too. Anna is their leader. She’s the oldest student here. Don’t take bets with her. You’ll lose every time.”

Hilda moved along to the next group. Two of them had their noses in books while eating. “Athena Cabin. Nerds. All of them. Edelgard’s the boss there. Don’t let her pretty face fool you; she’s always calculating something behind the scenes. Or at least I always get that impression.”

“Then there’s the Apollo kids.” Hilda waved at Claude, who had caught sight of her. “That’s Claude. He sucked up the arrogance and charisma of all the other Apollo kids, but he’s not a bad guy at heart.”

“Next to them is Dionysus Cabin. Always check any food or drink they serve you. Enough said. There’s Hephaestus Cabin over there. Messy and creative. My people at heart if not by blood.” 

Hilda’s hand drifted towards the next table along, the largest of the bunch filled with rowdy teens and twenty-somethings all with more muscles than sense. "And of course Ares Cabin. Just a bunch of guys being dudes. Dudes being guys. And also Petra is there. She’s pretty nice actually. Just don’t get on her bad side. She loves a fight more than anyone else I know. And if anyone gives you any trouble, you tell me and I’ll kick their asses for you. Got it?”

Marianne nodded, wide-eyed and attentive.

“Which leaves Aphrodite Cabin, full of the greatest people you’ll ever meet, including -” Hilda gestured to herself with a stunning smile, “- yours truly.“

At that, Marianne asked in a faint yet curious tone, "Are you the leader of Aphrodite Cabin?”

Hilda scrunched up her nose as though at a bad smell. “Gross. No way. I leave that job to Lorenz, thanks.”

“Oh,” Marianne ducked her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you, or -”

But Hilda waved her away. “Nah, you’re fine. Don’t worry about it. Let’s go grab some food. Oh! Before I forget.” Hilda pointed out the central firepit. “Remember to leave a bit of your food, so you can offer it to the gods after we eat. Very important. Don’t skip that step.”

Marianne nodded solemnly. Then again, solemn just seemed to be her natural state of being.

“Okay! See you later, then!” And with that, Hilda flounced off towards her own table.

Behind her, Marianne floundered for a moment, before drifting over towards the other Demeter kids, who greeted her with smiles. Hilda watched as Marianne did not return them, just sat as far away from the others, so that she was perched on the very corner of the bench. 

This was going to be a lot harder than Hilda had originally thought.

With a resigned sigh, Hilda tucked into her own meal. No sooner had she picked up her knife and fork however, than she felt something soft smack into the back of her head. A rolled up napkin landed on the table by her elbow.

Hilda looked at Sylvain, who was sitting directly opposite her. “Don’t tell me. It’s Claude, isn’t it?”

Sylvain grinned around his fork, pulling the utensil out of his mouth to answer, “Well, if you want a break from the guy, I’m always free.”

“Funny,” Hilda replied in a complete monotone. She twisted around in her seat. Sure enough, Claude was trying to catch her eye.

He lobbed something else towards her. This time, it was a little origami paper airplane with a wedge-like arrow shape. It flew straight and true, landing directly by Hilda’s plate. Groaning, Hilda unfolded the paper and read its contents. 

‘I thought you said you weren’t interested in the newblood?’

“Do you have a pen?” Hilda held out her hand towards Sylvain.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he handed her a tube of unused lipstick. She arched an eyebrow at him.

Sylvain shrugged. “It’s all I’ve got. Take it or leave it.”

Shrugging, Hilda uncapped the tube, gave its base a twist, and wrote her reply in bold scarlet. “Who even uses this shade?” she muttered under her breath. “I mean, I could totally pull it off, but -”

Sylvain had returned to his meal, but he said firmly, “I want it back.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” 

Hilda finished. She capped the lipstick and handed it back over to Sylvain. Then, she turned to toss the paper airplane back towards Claude. Whatever magic he had infused in it while folding its edges still remained, for it ducked and dipped around other students right for him like a bird in flight. Hilda did not wait to see his reaction to her reply, which read:

‘Seteth asked me to look after her. And no, I won’t help you with whatever you’re planning.’

She was a few bites into her meal, when the airplane returned. She crumpled it into a ball, and chucked it into the brazier, where it burned. Behind her, Hilda could hear Claude’s sound of outrage. Sylvain snickered into his cup. 

From where Hilda sat, Marianne was just within view. Her slouched shoulders, her head bowed. Hilda watched with mild interest, as other students at her table attempted to engage her in conversation. Even those from other tables who were near enough tried to lean over and introduce themselves. They were all rebuffed. One by one. Without fail. 

Eventually, Marianne had finished with her meal. Or perhaps she was simply finished with being in so crowded a space. She was a slow eater, but she was one of the first to rise from her seat. She picked morosely at her food, as though everything tasted like ash. And when she approached the brazier in the centre of the tables, her plate was still mostly full. 

Marianne scraped her food into the brazier, and murmured something under her breath. The coals leapt to life with a dull roar, like the sound of distant waves against the shore. The flames burned a hot, pale, hungry blue, searing the food to white ash. 

The entire dining pavilion fell silent. The clink of cutlery faded. People turned to stare. Marianne stood before the brazier, clutching her plate and knife, glancing around at all the stunned faces. She set the plate and knife down, then scurried from the pavilion, her head lowered.

After she had gone, people resumed their eating, but slowly. Over the heads of the other tables, Claude mouthed to Hilda: ‘What the fuck was that?’

Hilda shrugged at him, and then pretended to ignore the rest of his gestures for the remainder of the night. 

–

Hilda did not think about Marianne for the rest of the evening. She went back to the arts centre, and finished off a new bangle she had been working on for the last two weeks. Even then, she was not completely satisfied with it, and tossed it back into the forge for one of the Hephaestus kids to re-smelt into something. 

After giving up on that piece, Hilda went back to the drawing board. She pulled out a notebook and pencil, and began sketching out ideas for a brooch. Or maybe a hair pin. It could have been either. The forge blazed on the other side of the room. This area of camp was always populated, even in the earliest hours of the morning or the latest hours at night. Someone could always be found tinkering away on something. And tonight that person was Hilda.

She eventually wandered back to her cabin, but only when the designs all started bleeding together. Rubbing at her eyes with a yawn, she went about washing her face, changing her clothes, and crawling into the top bunk that had been assigned to her years ago. She could hear Sylvain snoring on the opposite side of the cabin, and was tempted to throw a pillow at him to get him to roll over. 

At some point, she had fallen asleep. The next thing she knew, a pinkish light was filtering through the tinted windows right into her face. To make things worse, Lorenz was swanning about, handing out that week’s chore list to everyone. 

He reached her bunk bed. “Hilda.”

Hilda pulled a pillow over her head, and rolled over.

Lorenz circled around to the other side of the bunk bed, so he could wave her chore list in her face. “I know you’re awake.”

“No, I’m not,” Hilda groaned, her voice muffled beneath the pillow.

He swatted at her pillow with the folded up piece of paper, until she gave up and snatched it from his hand. 

“There,” he said smugly. “Was that really so hard?”

“Not all of us are up with the larks every morning,” Hilda grumbled, but he was already striding away to dish out everyone else’s responsibilities. 

Not bothering to sit up, Hilda hung her head over the side of the bed so that her long untidy hair fell over the side. She rubbed at one eye as she read over the week’s chores. 

Monday - 0900 to 1100 - Cooking Duties - Hilda Goneril and Marianne von Edmund

Tuesday -  1100 to 1430 - Pegasus Stable Duties - Hilda Goneril and Marianne von Edmund

Wednesday - 1500 to 1700 - Gardening Duties - Hilda Goneril and Marianne von Edmund

…Now, hang on just a damn second. 

Hilda rubbed at her other eye to make sure she was reading everything right. She frowned at the page, and held it a little closer to her face. 

Okay. She was definitely reading that right. Apparently hospitality homework extended to more than just a quick Intro to Camp 101. But really, Seteth didn’t have to go out of his way to pair them up for everything. It wasn’t like she was going to try to wriggle out of her assignment. That was just insulting. And completely untrue.

Hilda let her arm flop to the side, and the page of chores fluttered to the floor from her grip. She covered her eyes with her other hand, and groaned. Honestly this should’ve been the easiest assignment ever. If not for the fact that Marianne was so much work. 

“Is something the matter?” Lorenz asked from across the room.

“No,” Hilda sighed, dragging her hand down her face. “Everything’s just peachy.”

– 

The first chore was cooking. Or rather, it was preparing lunch meals for a group of younger students going out into the forest for the first time with Manuela. 

It went poorly. Neither of them were very good in the kitchen. Which was odd, because Demeter kids were all great at cooking. It was one of their Things. Right alongside having a greenthumb that would make an eighteenth century English landscaper cream himself. 

The food wasn’t disastrous, by any stretch of the imagination. They got the meals ready and packaged in time. But nothing tasted that great, and there was an awful lot of mess left over afterwards, which meant that Hilda moaned about having to clean up the whole time. All the while, Marianne remained silent, looking like she was at a loss on how to use a modern sink to wash the cutting boards. Like she’d been dumped into the present day from hundreds of years ago. 

Hilda did the bulk of the talking for the whole two hours. Every now and then, Marianne would make a noise, like a soft hum at the back of her throat, as if that were her sole form of contribution to the conversation. Once – shockingly – she even asked if Hilda could pass her a knife. When their fingers almost brushed along the handle, Marianne dropped the blade and stuttered on her apologies for two whole minutes. 

So, yeah. This assignment kind of sucked so far.

–

Monday passed without much incident. At ten minutes past eleven on Tuesday, Hilda wandered up to the pegasus stables for their shared chores. Marianne was already there. She had a handful of carrots, and was feeding one to a pegasus. The beast’s head leaned out of his stall as far as he could go in an attempt to get closer to the source of the treats. 

"Don’t be greedy,” Marianne chided softly. Even so, she fed the pegasus another carrot.

“Heyoo,” Hilda greeted. 

Marianne almost dropped the carrots in one hand. She turned to see Hilda striding towards her. “Oh. Good afternoon, Hilda. You’re looking - uh - well.”

“Thanks.” Hilda did not even take offense to the belated attempt at praise. It was more than Marianne had been able to muster up over the last two days, which meant progress. Baby steps. They would get there. Eventually. Very eventually.

Stopping beside Marianne, Hilda nodded towards the pegasus, which was still chewing on the end of the carrot. “You’re awfully good with them. Normally, they hate me.”

The pegasus spoke while still chewing, his words punctuated with loud crunching noises. “I don’t hate you. That’s quite a strong word. I’m indifferent about you.”

Hilda scowled. “That’s even worse, Grass-Head.” 

“My name,” the pegasus said in as acidic a tone as psychic words could convey, “is Minty.” 

Hilda rolled her eyes. “Oh, like that’s any better.”

“I like horses,” Marianne admitted. “My father used to let me ride his sometimes.”

At that, Minty stamped his hoof, which scraped against the stall door. “I would really appreciate it if you didn’t ride me. You smell like rotten eggs. But if you keep the carrots coming, I’ll let you pet me.”

“How generous,” Hilda drawled.

On the other hand Marianne hastily offered another carrot. Minty grabbed it between his teeth and began to chew, while Marianne reached up to pat his head and play with his silky forelock. 

Hilda gave her a sidelong glance. “So,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Your dad had horses?”

Marianne mulled over her words very carefully before responding. “Yes. Four of them. They didn’t talk, though.” 

“Did they still like carrots?”

“Uhm -” 

But Minty answered instead, “All horses love carrots.” He snuffled around Marianne’s hand, trying to reach the other bunch of carrots held there. 

“There are other pegasi here,” Hilda pointed out. Indeed, a number of other pegasi were watching this exchange from their own stalls, their heads eagerly extended above the doors.

“Ignore those guys,” Minty said. “They definitely don’t want these.”

“Greedy asshole,” Hilda muttered under her breath.

“I heard that.”  

“Whatever.” Hilda jerked her thumb over her shoulder, and said to Marianne, “I’m going to go grab some gloves, pitchforks, and a wheelbarrow. I would highly recommend wearing gloves, yourself.”

“Alright. I’ll come with you.” Marianne gave Minty one last carrot, taking the time to pat him on the head some more, before turning to follow Hilda. 

Marianne spoke a bit more today. Not much more, but a bit. The pegasi all took an interest in her, even if they generally did not want Marianne to touch them unless bribed with treats. They made odd comments about her smell, while remaining generally uninterested in Hilda’s presence entirely. 

Which was rather insulting, really. Hilda was not a person accustomed to being treated with indifference. And charmspeak did not work on pegasi like it did on people. Annoyingly. 

Hilda tried. She received a series of nickers that could only be described as amused in a mocking way. 

Afterwards, Hilda was sweaty and annoyed. She tipped a load of straw into the last stable, and raked it around, while Marianne chatted with the pegasus. If only it were that easy to get Marianne to talk to actual humans. Her sentences were still short and carefully combed of any personal information, but still. 

And at the end of it all, Marianne even offered Hilda a little wave and a hesitant, “See you tomorrow,” before they parted ways for the day. 

Leaning on a pitchfork, Hilda watched her go. “Weird,” she muttered under her breath, when she was sure Marianne was out of earshot.

“Yeah,” Minty said from behind her. “You’re telling me.”

–

By the time Wednesday rolled around, Hilda was just about ready to bail on chores entirely. Honestly, it was a miracle she’d made it this far in the first place. She should have been awarded gold stars for exceeding all expectations. Normally she would have weasled her way out of the week’s responsibilities by Tuesday. 

Not that it had anything to do with Marianne. Because it didn’t. Hilda just hated chores. She had a jewelry project she wanted to work on, some people she wanted to flirt with, and a monster hunt in the forest that sounded like way more fun than gardening. 

Plus, it was hot. The late afternoon sun was an unimpeded glaring yellow dot in the sky, and Hilda was boiling. She fanned herself with a pair of leather pruning gloves. Her eyes were shielded behind a pair of pink-lensed glasses, and her head was covered in a black-ribboned straw hat. 

Marianne stood beside her, hands nervously wringing another pair of gloves together. Whereas the sun glared down upon Hilda in full force, it somehow seemed to miss Marianne. As though she were sidestepping the light entirely. She still wore a dress with long sleeves, and long hems, and a high collar. 

“I honestly don’t know how you’re surviving in all that.”

Marianne blinked in confusion. “What?”

Hilda gestured with the gloves towards Marianne’s clothes. “Aren’t you baking?”

Plucking at her long hems, Marianne said, “No.”

Hilda blew a raspberry, and pulled her gloves on. “Lucky you. Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

An empty flower bed stretched along the ground at their feet. It skirted the edges of one of the main pathways between the cabins and the amphitheatre. The flower bed was narrow, but long, extending over a little hill and out of sight. Even looking at it made Hilda’s knees feel tired. 

She and Marianne had hauled a cart from the garden sheds, laden with trowels, liquid fertilizer, seed packets, and enormous quantities of small sprouting flowers. They had since unloaded all the flowers onto the path, ready to be planted over the next few hours. 

Hilda was picking up a trowel, when it suddenly struck her. She rounded on Marianne, excitement lacing her voice. “Hey, you’re a Demeter kid! That means you’re really good with plants and stuff, right?”

“Uhm -”

“Great! You can just -” Hilda wiggled her gloved fingers at the flower bed “- do that nature magic you guys are so good at, while I clean up. And we’ll be out of here in no time.”

“I don’t think -”

“Don’t worry,” Hilda said, already gathering up all the gardening supplies so that she could carry them back to the shed. She would make the trip in one go if it killed her. Only cowards had to make two trips. “Nobody will care, so long as everything is planted and growing properly. Besides, this way we can both get out early. Hey! I can take you to the lake for some swimming practice! Doesn’t that sound fun? Let’s do that.”

She didn’t give Marianne a chance to answer. She was already grabbing up the cart’s handle, and hauling it back over to the garden shed. 

The trip took a grand total of ten minutes. Feeling triumphant in her cleverness, Hilda sauntered back down the pathway. She was daydreaming about finally casting that new hair pin design in gold, when she rounded the corner, and froze. 

Marianne was kneeling on the ground. In a great circle around her, the seedlings had been arrayed. When Hilda had left, the plants had been green and bright. Now, the leaves and flowers were all black and wilted, and the earth around them dark as if scorched. Faint curls of smoke drifted through the air from the ground, and the smell was rancid. Like sulfur. 

“What -?” Hilda started to say, but she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. 

Marianne jerked to her feet, brushing off the hems of her dress with trembling hands. Before she could get a good look at Marianne’s face, Hilda turned, and found herself face to face with Mercedes, who looked between the two of them in astonishment. 

“Is everything alright?” Mercedes asked. Her eyes widened when she looked at the flowers at Marianne’s feet. “Goodness! What happened?”

"I -” Marianne’s lower lip trembled. She looked to be on the verge of outright tears.

Before she could say anything, Hilda stepped forward. “It was my fault,” Hilda insisted. “You know how I am. I thought I was spraying liquid fertilizer, but I’d accidentally grabbed that magic weed killer Ashe has been developing out in the sheds.”

With a nod of her head, Mercedes hummed. “Yes, that does sound like it would do the trick.”

“I’m so so sorry, Mercedes,” Hilda continued in her most wide-eyed, contrite tone. She smacked herself on the forehead with the palm of her hand. “I can’t believe I was so careless!”

Immediately, Mercedes placed her hands on Hilda’s upper arms, warm and comforting. “Oh, no! Don’t blame yourself! It was an honest mistake, I’m sure. It’s nothing we can’t fix.”

“You think so?” Hilda put a breathless quality into her voice to really sell it. There was no need for charmspeak here. It would probably work on Mercedes, but she didn’t need it. 

Mercedes nodded. “Absolutely.” 

“Thank you so much. You really are a life-saver, Mercedes.”

“No, no. It’s nothing. Helping is the least I can do.”

There were still the seed packets left over. They had escaped whatever magic that had blighted the area around Marianne. In Mercedes’ capable hands, it took a matter of minutes for the seeds to be scattered and growing all along the flowerbed. Still, a dead patch remained in one section of the flowerbed, where the seeds refused to grow, even beneath the force of Mercedes’ magical gifts. 

“How strange,” Mercedes mused, studying the patch with a quizzical tilt of her head. “The soil in this area feels odd. I don’t quite know how to describe it.”

If Marianne’s shoulders could hunch up around her ears any more, then her head would become a part of her chest cavity. 

Hilda tried to distract Mercedes. “You’re amazing,” she gushed. “I wish I had powers like that.”

It worked. Mercedes turned her attention away from the flower bed. “Don’t be silly. You have extraordinary powers yourself, Hilda.”

“Oh, no. Not like you, and the others. You’re incredible. Really.”

Throughout the entire exchange, Marianne remained silent. Her eyes were downcast. Something about the late afternoon light made them appear darker. 

It took another five or so minutes to convince Mercedes that they should part ways without carrying around any suspicions. By the end, Mercedes continued on her way towards the amphitheatre with a merry wave of farewell and a promise to more clearly label the experimental weed killer in the garden shed. 

When she had gone over the hill, leaving the two of them alone, Hilda breathed a sigh of relief. “Phew!” She took off her straw hat, and fanned herself with its wide brim. “That was lucky. Are you alright?”

“I’m - I’m sorry,” Marianne mumbled. She refused to meet Hilda’s gaze. “You shouldn’t have had to do - I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry.”

Before she could think to stop herself, Hilda reached out to place a hand on Marianne’s shoulder. But before she could touch her, Marianne recoiled. 

“Please, don’t,” Marianne gasped. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. She wiped at them with the backs of her hands, and staggered away a step. “Don’t touch me. Don’t -”

Hilda opened her mouth to speak, but Marianne had already turned tail and was stumbling away. She did not bother to take the path, and instead fled directly across the field. The ground in her wake bore dark blistering marks in the shape of her footprints, as though her every step were bleeding the earth dry. 

Hat in hand, Hilda stared after her. “What,” she muttered, “the fuck?” 

–

NOTES:

The title is a reference to “A Study in Scarlet.” Not that there’s any murder in this story, just to allude that there is a mystery

This AU does not perfectly follow the Percy Jackson world. It just takes some of the main tenants from it. eg/ the Titan Wars are over, and many Titans (such as Seteth) have successfully integrated with the rest. And yes I know that if the Hades cabin is there, I should include the others to make up the full twenty. But I’m lazy.

None of the Percy Jackson characters will be making an appearance. It’s just our FE crew here. 

[flateshippingrates]

Share Them (With Everyone You Know)

Ship: Solangelo

Words: 1832

Ao3

There was a tender lull in conversation as they watched people pass their table, occasionally they commented on someone’s outfit or repeated a line from a fleeting conversation. The son of Hades was in his own world as he watched an older male walk by, dark hair and bright green eyes reflecting his phone screen. Will and Nico had been a couple for sometime now and it wasn’t as if your attraction to other people stopped when you started dating someone. In fact, it could be argued that this was a tale as old as time, especially when considering Helen going with Paris.

Of course, Nico would never leave Will for some stranger who made eye contact and gave him a half-assed peace sign before moving on. That being said though it wasn’t as if the blond didn’t notice the brush of ego, the small smile his boyfriend gave back, or the way dark eyes stared until the stranger was out of sight. He was, admittedly, good looking with his tall stature and fit frame but it wasn’t like Nico actually knew anything about him. The dreamy look on his face boiled something inside of Will until he gently yet aggressively kicked his boyfriend’s foot with his. “You’ll catch flies if you don’t shut your mouth.”

“Shut up.” Nico suddenly stood, gathering his worn jacket in his arms and gathering his dishes from the table. “We should head back anyway; your shift will be starting soon.”

Will followed his example, clasping their hands with a reassuring squeeze and stepped into a shadow. It had been hard to travel this way before but now it was preferred and how could the blond say no when he realized how good for the environment and their wallets it was. There was no danger in it since it was much more controlled than in the past; plus, Nico had worked so hard to learn the skill in the first place he didn’t want him to lose it.

They still had about an hour before his shift started so they sat on the Hades’ cabin patio, allowing for laziness to slip over them until, like some sort of idiot, Will said, “That guy kind of looked like Percy, didn’t he?”

If looks could kill, the blond would be a pile of dust from the harshest glare directed towards him. Nico inhaled sharply through his nose as he closed his eyes and leaned forward to place his head in his hands. “I love you, but you are so gods damn stupid. Do you want to take it back now or do you need to sit with it for a while?”

“Am I wrong?” Will poorly defended himself, so far from understanding the point that a map couldn’t help him.

“I think you should go,” Nico snapped, standing up for the second time today to end the conversation; there was force behind it. “Your shift will be starting soon anyway.”

“Neeks, c’mon, we’d both be damned fools if we didn’t admit to ourselves he looked like Percy and that you were totally checking him out!”

“Oh, I’m a fool now, am I?”

“When you don’t admi--”

“Is this really how you want to steer this conversation?”

Will was exasperated, slapping his hands against his thighs in defeat, and with one final huff muttered, “Fine, but, for the record, I don’t mind you looked at him. I was just saying it was weird how he--”

“Gods, just shut up and come inside,” Nico snapped with real warning behind his voice this time. It was best to drop it, even the blond could understand that, and silently followed into the cool air of the Hades’ cabin. The exit never seemed as welcoming as it did in times of trouble; he stayed in place though as his boyfriend shuffled to a bowl of fruit, squeezing some clementines to test their ripeness before dropping one into a brown bag. “Take your lunch and don’t be late,” he sneered, “I’ll just be here, thinking about how in love with Percy I still am. Oh, and I just put that instant coffee you like in your desk so you don’t have to keep running back and forth for it.”

“Thanks, I’ll be back tonight.” Will sighed and leaned down for a chaste kiss. “If you’re tired, try to walk around for a little bit before lying down; you’ve been getting too much sleep lately.”

“Yeah, yeah, go to work so I can write this sonnet about my love of dark hair and green eyes.” Then just like that Will was being shoved out the door aggressively enough to let him know he was definitely in trouble, even though he still thought he was right. The man did have dark hair and green eyes like Percy and it wasn’t like those features suddenly became unattractive just because they didn’t work out with Nico’s dark hair and brown eyes.

Perhaps it was better to just say he was wrong--which he wasn’t--and apologize to get through this argument faster? It wouldn’t be the first time he did something he didn’t want to for a subject change. Nico would see through that undoubtedly (he knew sincerity when he saw it) and this would be half-assed if he didn’t exactly figure out what was wrong. The thoughts were swirling around in his head as he wrapped burnt fingers, took temperatures, and listened to the gentle pounding of another’s heart.

It was tough to be Will.

When it was time to take his lunch break, he shut his office door for some peace and pulled out the clementine, along with other items. He peeled back its bitter layer, tossing it out the window so it could decompose, and broke apart the edible parts of the fruit. It was juicy, perfectly ripe, which was no surprise when it was picked with loving, experienced hands. To Will it seemed like all other clementines, he was no good at picking them apart, always forgot how they should feel in your hand, and just knew it was best to let Nico decide for him.

Even after lunch he could smell citrus on his fingers and remembered how it felt to dig his nails into its skin to expose something better. He even found himself wishing he had another one the more he thought about it. There was something about the way the taste lingered when he thought of Nico that made him want to go home. His eyes made acquaintance with his wristwatch that afternoon until, much to his delight, another Apollo camper offered to take the rest of his shift.

It wasn’t too late, barely past sundown, but he knew Nico would probably be lying in bed to decompress from their day. Emotions were overwhelming; depression and exhaustion were blurred when you suffered from bipolar2; when on a downward mood it was hard to find energy for more than one part of the day and even then that could be asking a lot. There was no begging for understanding though and while Will did comprehend from a medical and caring standpoint, he would never truly be able to relate in that way. It was not helpful to pretend he did.

He would tell his boyfriend what he loved about him often, but didn’t force him to believe it; when Nico was ready he would accept the compliment. It was not a personal attack to someone when your compliment wasn’t fully accepted, afterall. It could take a few days for the truth to dissolve into someone’s heart; they had all the time in the world.

Right now though, the Italian was lying in bed, sitting up when Will came in, and grumbled, “You’re home early.” His hair was flattened on one side from his pillow which he tried to fluff back to its original glory with his fingers.

“Yeah, I know,” Will agreed as he kicked off his worn down shoes. “Someone agreed to cover the rest of my shift… The fruit you picked was good; I liked it.”

“I know you did,” Nico replied, stretching his toes and back. It was time for dinner but they usually waited until most people cleared out to go. They were much older now and Will was placing some responsibility onto the next camper in line to be leader of the Apollo cabin (thankful to finally see someone have real guidance).

“Yeah, yeah… move over, my feet are killing me.” He was already halfway lying down by that point and in a blink of an eye was wrapping his arms around Nico’s waist.

“Do you think I don’t know what you like?” He shoved Will’s arm off him so he could scoot further down the bed and prop his head up with his hand; he wanted to face those blue eyes when they talked. Will was completely on his back, exposing his stomach to the other and folded his lips in a shy, nervous way. They stared at each other with tender understanding. They knew they needed to talk about what happened earlier.

“You smell like a clementine.” Will noted.

“I just had one a little bit ago.” Nico licked his lips at the memory; it really was just moments ago and he was sure if they kissed Will would benefit from the vitamins too.

“You’re good at picking them.” The son of Apollo mumbled as he closed his eyes. “They always look the same to me.”

There was a lull between them until Nico placed his hand on his boyfriend’s sun kissed skin. His narrow fingers tenderly held his face and pressed against soft lips; Will could smell the citrus. “You have to hold them to know the difference, tesoro.”

“Ah, I see…” Will sighed through his nose before continuing on with the realization, “You were always good at spotting the difference.”

“I can teach you how,” Nico muttered, pressing his thumb against the blond’s lower lip. He smiled when he felt the way the skin under him expanded when corners turned upward at the offer. Without opening his eyes, his boyfriend reached up to run his fingers through black hair and rubbed at the nape of his neck. Neither were sure how long they stayed like that, their bodies were so comfortable like that it was as if their hearts were always beating at the same time. Then, suddenly and at nothing at all, Will laughed and so did Nico, because it is a well known fact that if you place two violins in the same room and play a chord on one then the other will play the exact same note.

Their heads tilted until their foreheads touched and the blond whispered, “I only want to hold you.” And then, like he was in a fruit bowl, Nico gently squeezed the side of Will’s face, pushed their mouths together when all the bitterness was peeled away until at last there was only clementine.

[minstrivia]

; lovesick 02 | m.

— title: meet me

— pairing: kim taehyung x reader, ft. kim namjoon

— genre: angst, smut, college au, fuckboy au

— word count: 7k+

i’m thinking back to when i was young. back to the day when i was falling in love

— warnings: breathplay, creampie, degradation, dirty talk, praise!kink, rough sex, voyeurism (mission get a room = failed), unprotected sex, wow this was meant to be soft smut?? with a condom!!! what even am i??

— disclaimer: y/n making bad choices even i don’t agree with.

It had been one of those halcyon rural nightfalls, those culminating mesmeric sundown's she'd known he had an all too aberrant penchant for. A benign tranquillity mediating amongst them as the moonlight barely brought life to the terrain surrounding, everything yonder a picture of secrecy to the caricature naked eye and near complete reticence besides the genial rustling of the bosky grass beneath them. Y/N remembers thinking she could never forget a time like that, a claudicant moment when he'd sat before her, fracturable as ever, a corpulent stretch of arms lengths keeping them— much to her chagrin— alienated from the other, his tall legs bent taut to his chest, arms clasped around the span of his calves and his forehead stuck to the hard callous bones of his knees. At the time it'd been such a mystifying sight, so implausibly strange she'd had no idea what to say to him, no collated words seemed explicitly helpful nor fitting then. So, she'd watched him instead, figure bent like his own, cheek to knees whilst she observed him meticulously, eyes centralised on the rhythmic heaved breaths curling at the rounds of his spine, the fractious shake seizing his tightly clasped fingers and rendering him— weak? Y/N had scrunched her nose at the word. Taehyung wasn't weak, not her best friend, not the charismatic libidinous brazen Apollo that emanated with a cocksure aura she'd always envied. Weak had been the last thing she'd ever describe him as. Yet, there he'd presented himself before her, emphatic harrowing sobs racking through the frame of his body, cursing the easeful night with a wretched cry for help and making her wonder. What had it taken to fully shatter a boy so complete? He'd yet to tell her why he'd called, not that she'd asked either, the hoarse skittish tone in his voice had choked the stemming question in her throat, superseding it with a curt mutter of agreement; settling to meet him at such a time despite the few hours left before start of school. Howbeit, she'd never regret it, even with the fact he'd caused her stellar attendance to be barred with her first ever uncharted truancy. She could never bring herself to second guess her decision to meet him, not when he'd finally looked at her the way he did— talked to her the way he did— or even touched her the way he did. Y/N had found herself admiring him then, admiring the way he'd composed himself somewhat, cries lapsing into here and there subdued gasps and whispers as he'd gripped onto his clothing with an iron fist. Building his cinder block walls back as steep as ever, as if all he'd really needed was just to let it all out, for that fugitive moment, he'd just needed to be boundless, completely sedate with an inspirited freedom. And all he'd wanted was her there, an understanding of silence as she'd waited on the grounds that he'd just needed her presence— nothing more, nothing less. "Sorry," he'd murmured, the taper whites of his eyes delineated a wounded scarlet when he chanced a fleeting glance at her, an almost pitiable sniffle crinkling at his nose and his desiccant lips parting ever so effortlessly when he spoke, a blithe whisper being all that was made of the words. "I'm sorry, Y/N." "Hmm?" Y/N's lips had stooped into an addled grimace. For what reason did he have to be sorry? She hadn't been the one with stale streaks of tears lining her ruddy cheeks, neither had she been the one to sound so damaged, so obscured. And still, the sincerity of the utterance hadn't been lost in transit, leaving her as dumbstruck as ever, back straightening as she narrowed her eyes. "For what?" "Dragging you here—" He scuffed his shoes on the rocky mud beneath him, pretending the display had become of sudden concern to him as he refused to look at her. He'd know what she'd been thinking if he had, Y/N had always been so transparent to him, a facile gander being all it took to fathom the thoughts she'd assumed her face had hidden. And he hadn't needed— wanted it, not then, definitely not then. "You shouldn't have come out here for me. Should have told me to fuck off or something." Y/N had nodded mindlessly, she wasn't completely oblivious, she'd known he was a lot more partial in venturing to divert the conversation from what she'd just witnessed, than feigning he hadn't really needed her. But she'd went along with it, she'd replied, "Maybe." A heedless lift of her shoulders followed by a genteel laugh as she ran her clammy palms up her thigh. "It's too late now though, isn't it?" She asked, rhetorically, of course, clapping her hands together with a simper. "Anyway, who are you kidding? I would have come regardless." Taehyung scoffed, his head rising to finally look at her properly, finally bask in her fixed gaze, curiosity drawing at her brows and questioning at her lips. Of course, that had been her answer, he hadn't really expected anything less, not from Y/N, her heart had been too warm for that, too impulsively caring and big to leave him by himself at a time like that. And he'd known that. "Y/N, you ever wonder if erm—" He sighed, a hefty breath clearing his thoughts momentarily, head sloping upwards as the incandescent stars began to illuminate the twilight sky, one by one, enlightening it with a picturesque artistry of love, hope, and new beginnings. All of which he'd found he wanted, craved even. "You ever wonder if you'll ever find that someone, you know? That someone that makes you, for the first time in your life want to care— really really care, for them and them for you. Someone you know you'd do anything for." Y/N imagines her face must have been a picture of curiosity when he'd looked at her, a chary smile and an airy shrug thrown her way to ease the weighty burden of his thoughts. As if he'd known she felt out of her depth but continued anyway. "You ever just sit and wonder if that perfect person actually exists, or— or if you're just never meant to feel that kind of happiness. If that person may be someone else's first, never to be yours, no matter how much you want them because that's just the way the world works." He'd chuckled despite his copious tone, outstretching his lengthy legs forward, balls of his palms pressed to the ground behind him whilst he'd looked at her, regarding her with such scrutiny, as if she'd never fully understood but he'd said it anyway. And Y/N hadn't understood, not then, not really. She'd cleared her throat, tugging at the frayed ends of her woolly jumper nervously, eyes veering away from his as the sudden overwhelming feeling of being under his pointed gaze seeped below her skin, shuddering down her spine and making her feel as if she were the reason they'd been cooped at the top of the mountain and not him, as if she'd been the one that needed to let go. Taehyung always had a way of doing that, like an art he'd defined, his undeviating attention compelling one to feel under examination, no matter the circumstance. And it'd always worked on her, his stare heating her body with an analeptic warmth she could never explain despite her tries. She'd swallowed, throat dry and hoarse, the question she'd been waiting to ask right at the tip of her tongue. "What makes you say that?" He'd snorted jovially. "Y/N, my mother's been cheating on my father for as long as I can remember, hell, for as long as we can remember—," he'd said, a spiteful jeer in his voice as he'd spat out the term 'mother' like it had left an astringent taste of repulsion in his mouth and she could do nothing but wince. "— and he lets her. He just fucking lets her, no matter what I say. He lets her fucking prance around with her other fucking family as if she's fucking proud of it. God, she's such a bitch, such a fucking gold-digging bitch, embarrassing him like she does, making him seem like he's a fucking stupid idiot, because of what? Huh? Why Y/N? Why?" He'd looked at her, glassy eyes wide and crazed as he'd searched for the answers in her face, pupils flicking from side to side as if he'd really believed that if he'd looked hard enough, he'd find it. But he wouldn't, she hadn't had those answers for him. She'd ran her tongue across the surface of her dry lips, answering with the only thing she'd known was true. "Love is blind." Taehyung shook his head, a sheer protest to her reply. "No. Love is bullshit." He'd countered, an unnerving finality strong within his tone. "It's him that's fucking blind. God, I hate her so much, you know. She's such a fucking parasite, worming her way into his money without a care in the world and he just doesn't deserve that. I wish he'd never met her." He heaved a sigh burying his face into his hands and dragging them down as he sloped his head back. "She uh— She wants to send Namjoon into one of these private prestigious universities, and she asked my own father to pay for it. She asked my father to pay to send a child, that is not his own, to a beyond fucking expensive school. And he'd just said yes. I tried— I fucking tried to speak some sense into him, but erm my mother didn't really like that, did she." He'd twisted his head to the side, giving her a proper view of the other half of his face, a sweltering claret hand mark pressed angrily into his cheek and Y/N's heart had clenched at the sight. Next moves done with little to no hesitation, clambering onto her knees, stationing herself beside him as she took his cheek into the tenderness of her palm, thumb stroking away the stray tears whilst he melted into her touch, lids fluttering to a steady close. She'd smiled dolefully. "Your father is just— he's just a victim to unjust love, I guess. He's already in too deep and to get out from that place must be so hard for him you know. It won't be like that for you. I promise." "Y/N, I think—" His eyes opened with a smile almost as forlorn as her own, as he moved away from her feathery caress. "I think I've found that person that I think of 24/7, the person that I want to see smiling, that I want to be the reason for it," He'd divulged before pausing, blinking ever so languidly and sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. "But I don't want to be my father. I can't be my father. And that scares me because I really do think I've found her." He'd sounded like it, sorrow thick and corpulent in his speech, tongue bandaging 'round the words so fluently she'd almost believed he'd practised it beforehand. But he'd shaken his head, fingers combing through the legion umber tussocks of his hair and roughing it up ever so slightly. "Promise me something." "What?" "Here." He'd opened his arms wide, enveloping her within his hold, her head rested on the slope of his shoulder as his arm pulled her skin-tight by her waist. It had been warmer like that, the wind hardly noticeable with the makeshift barricade they'd created, it was one of the first things she'd noticed, that and the way his heart had beaten, at a pace faster than normal yet just as steady. "Promise me you'll never leave—" "Tae—" "No, just— just listen." He'd insisted, gripping her just that bit tighter like he'd been scared she'd make a run for it if he didn't. "Promise that no matter what I do, no matter how much I fuck up, you'll never leave me. You're the only one I trust Y/N. I— Promise that if we never find true love, or if somewhere along the lines it gets lost, or whatever bullshit, that we'll be each other's perfect someone's because you're the only one I know won't hurt me Y/N. Not like my mother." Y/N had stilled briefly, he couldn't be serious? In a few seconds, she'd hear the first tell-tale bubbles of laughter falling from his lips and giving him away like it always did. But the longer she'd waited, the more it felt like such a thing would never come and when she'd finally decided to peer up at him, he'd already been looking down at her, a bold sobriety in his features that stood its ground. She'd tutted, digging her elbow into his side with a mischievous nudge. "As if you could deal with me every single day," she'd stated, a splitting grin plastered on her face as she'd found it a lot more amusing than she probably should've. "Have you even thought about this? I would positively drive you up the wall and I know you would too." Taehyung shrugged indifferently, though, in reality, he'd already given it much more thought than he'd like to admit; he'd even weighed out the pros and cons like it were some thesis he'd have to give in. So yes, he'd done more than just thought about it. "Y/N, I could deal with you for eternity and more. You know why?" He'd stuck out his pinkie finger tentatively and Y/N knew she couldn't say no, not to him— never to Taehyung. She'd curled her smaller finger around his, fusing the aphonic promise amongst them as he daintily pressed his lips to her temple, murmuring lightly against the skin, just loud enough for her to catch it. "Because you're my best friend Y/N." And it'd been somewhere along those lines, somewhere amidst him baring all for her to see, before coating back his layers thicker, somewhere amongst the raw words he'd uttered and promises they'd made that she'd fallen in love with Taehyung for the first time, properly fell in love that is, heart beating out of its confinement's as she breathed him in for what felt like the first time ever. "And you're mine Tae."

"You didn't do it, did you?" "What?" Y/N's body lurches forward instantly, the book she'd been firmly clutching in her hands subdued onto the table gaudily, her rib jarring roughly on the whetted outskirt of the timber as she curses to herself.  "Jesus Christ, Min Yoongi," she hisses, resting a nervy palm over her chest to even the hasty cumbrous beats of her heart, turning her head to scowl at the boy standing behind her, his inklike hair vitric and glossy as his eyes bore flatly into hers. "Why are you like this?" He nods a scant tut of his teeth following his hum of confirmation. "So, you didn't." "Is it really that obvious?" She huffs, her cheeks swelling out marginally when she blows at the hair that briefly obscures her face and slumps down further into her seat. Yoongi lifts his shoulders apathetically, tucking his hands into his trousers and lounging amply in the seat beside her. "Well let me see, you're sitting in the library, reading—" He veers forward, flipping the hardcover book to a close, brows puckered and his lips screwing up in distaste when he inwardly reads the title of the astronomy book she'd picked up on a whim. "—whatever this fucking is when we were meant to be going to that pharmacy to get me more aspirin. I'd say it's a little more than pretty obvious, wouldn't you?" Y/N cries out, figure sagging as she plants her forehead to the table. "God, I'm sorry Yoongs. I completely forgot. I was just—" "Apology not accepted," He declares, cutting her off and overlapping his arms together. And Y/N can't help sneaking a cursory peep at him through the corner of her eye. He's looking straight at her, lashes flitting sluggishly, not even a trace of a smile picking at his lips and his brows raised expectantly. She knows he's irritated— well really, more than anything completely fed up of her, and she knows it's not because of some stupid aspirin. But she's got some pride, pride that won't let her admit to her wrongdoings. "What?" Yoongi scoffs, his head swaying almost humanely. "You're pathetic." That she is. Y/N would have to be categorically fucking pathetic to be hiding from her own boyfriend as if she's the one that's done wrong. As if she's the cheater. But she just can't face him, she can't bear the judging side-eyes she's been getting all day, the fleeting ganders of rapport, and the continuous indistinct murmurs about that silly, stupid rumour, which— leave it up to Taehyung— Y/N knows is plausibly true. It's as good as loathsome when she really thinks about it, she can't defend his honour if she tried, she can't pretend for even a second that such rumours may not be true. And yet, she continues to call herself his girlfriend. She laments, rooting her elbows to the table and capturing her face in the grasp of her palms. "I know. I know." Yoongi grimaces. "You wanna know who it was this time?"

Y/N shakes her head. She knows Yoongi doesn't intend to be purposefully callous all the time— nor does he really want to. It's just that she refuses to listen to him, he's told her time and time again that Taehyung doesn't care as she does, Yoongi's told her that Taehyung will continue to maltreat her, that even though he'll say he loves her; he doesn't. And still somehow, someway she contrives to persuade herself that he does. Taehyung does care. Taehyung won't hurt her. Taehyung loves her. "I'd rather not,” she replies. Acknowledging it would only make it worse— comprehending that tiny detail would only make it laborious to assure herself that she's not doubtlessly dense when she says that she loves him. And Yoongi knows that. "Well, it's Jennie," he blurts out. "Kim Jennie. The pretty girl that sits next to you in Chem, Jennie—" "Yoongi!" "No Y/N, look at me—" He clinches her wrist stiffly in his grip, yanking her arm forcibly enough that her torso swivels towards him till she's meeting him properly. Face hardly centimetres apart from his when he finally vocalises his intention. "—you need to get a fucking grip. The boy is cheating on you, whether you like it or not, he is," He jeers, a compact hitch in his lecture, his eyes wavering over her features as if to check he hasn't gone farther than he meant to. "Now, I don't know whatever fucking excuse you've conjured up for him in your head but Y/N this— this isn't normal, and it's not healthy." And she doesn't want to hear any more of it. She rips her arm away from him abruptly, wringing her palm around the wrist to soothe the biting sensation of his fingers. "Ouch, you're an asshole." "And you need to break up with him," He concludes, not a slither of a debate held in his emphasis or his rigid stare. "Oh, there you are Y/N." Fuck. Y/N curses under her breath, pegging in her spot and instantly preferring to be met with the drubbing defeat of Yoongi's self-satisfied smirk than to take notice of the boy she'd been trying to evade all day. Presence almost tyrannical as his confusion at her and Yoongi's current state lapses off him in fluctuations, an emotion that flushes warm under her skin against her will. "Do it now," Yoongi rasps, his voice hushed and ominous enough, a temporary mumble, that's meant for her ears only, before he rises to his feet, dusting nonexistent lint off the tops of his legs and beaming for the first time since he'd come. A smile that Y/N knows is all too phoney. "Anyway, we'll just go to the pharmacy after class. See you Y/N. Tae."

Y/N swallows thickly, eyes following the way Yoongi leaves in a quickstepped dash, gloomily coveting she could do the same. Or, better yet, just disappear. "What erm— What are you doing here?" She asks, glimpsing at the way Taehyung topples on the globes of his feet, grooming his hair by his fingers, shifting it backwards and allowing it to flounder down in place.

He grins, settling himself in the chair Yoongi had just departed from but hobbling it that tad bit closer to her so that their knees knock together when he leans in. "I couldn't find you this morning," he begins, allotting the plastic bag he'd had in his hold on the table. "But Jimin said he'd definitely seen you. So I thought, it's getting nearer to exams, of course, you'll be in the library and of course, you'll forget to eat. Aren't I great?" "Hmm." Y/N looks carefully between the bag and him, hands shoved in the centre of her pressed thighs, despairingly hoping to not seem too agitated. It's always harder when Taehyung's entirely sober. When he's like this, she can almost recognise the sparse remnants of her best friend, the one that knows all her favoured foods, an esoteric draw of a smile deep-rooted on his lips when he shreds the sandwich packet open, prompting the white breaded ham and cheese sandwich towards her. She reels her bottom lip into her mouth dubiously. It's a nice thing he's done, it really is. But it's not nice enough, it's not cordial enough to stop the claimant question— even though she knows— tumbling from her lips. "Who's Jennie?" Taehyung doesn't flinch, he propels his legs in front of him, arms spreading to retire behind her chair leisurely. "Who?" There's an almost cocky squint in his orbs, an audacious trace vivid in his pupils as if he thinks she'll give up now. Like she normally does. She won't though. She grates her teeth together, breathing in to compose herself— at least partially— before rephrasing her interrogation. "Who were you with the other night?" "Hmm?" He recoils this time, subtly, hauling his shoes upon the floor, eyes drawing to a wary squint and frowning. "What d'you mean?" Taehyung knows what she means, Y/N knows he does, he clicks his teeth and wheels his shoulders back as if he does and her fingers curve into fists. "After you left," she emphasises, an astringent exhalation coating the stressed words. "After you left, who were you with?" "I don't—" He huffs defeatedly, he's trying to remember— he really is. His forehead folds up in thought, brows neighbouring closely, ivories clamped onto his gums as he rummages through his whereabouts yesterday, but he's coming up muddled every time. There's nothing following Y/N as far as his memory goes. So he settles for what he hopes to be, an apologetic shrug. He just can't remember. "I don't know Y/N." Y/N snorts. "Yeah, okay," she drags, scoffing when she nudges his arm off her chair. She doesn't know why she's still entertaining him— actually she knows. She just doesn't know why she won't fucking listen to Yoongi, she can't fathom why whenever Taehyung looks at her with those brownish eyes of his all she can remember is the day he'd fretted being alone. The day she'd witnessed him crying and prayed she'd never see it again. "Y/N look, I don't remember what happened last night. But I know for sure I wasn't with anyone else," He insists, dragging at her chair easily, the wood irritating tawdrily against the floor and she has to jam her feet on the floor to get him to stop. She's full-on scowling now, temper flaring deep in her eyes when she stabs her forefinger to his chest. "You are such a fucking liar Taehyung!" "Be quiet," he scolds, eyes darting around the room, seizing hold of her finger and forcing it away promptly. “Don’t make a scene.”

“Don’t make a—” Y/N can’t believe him. He has the guts to tell her not to make a ‘scene’ because he can’t bear being called out. She pulls at the collar of her blazer, sheathing the clothing to suit her correctly as she arises to her feet. “You think I’m making a scene?” She snaps. She plucks up the neglected book with two hands, elevating it beyond her head and slamming it back down onto the desk forcibly, the turbulent thud echoing off the walls ‘round them and she smirks. “That’s making a scene.”

"For fuck's sake, Y/N." Taehyung hooks the pads of his finger into the flesh of her thigh in a bruising grapple, his other hand bunching her hair together and yanking her head back when he stands. "What the fuck is wrong with you?" He snarls, wrenching at her hair again so that her scalp starts to throb at the pain. And in a way, it’s a relief he’d found Y/N in one of the more screened sections of the library because it means he can drive her, ass first onto the table, legs separating her thighs and his palms established by them as he confines her in. “I said, I wasn’t with anyone.”

“And I said, Jennie, begs to fucking differ.”

Taehyung paves the pads of his central finger and thumb into her chin, moving her downcast face towards him, outlining his teeth on the bony seams of her jaw. “Y/N, I promise I wasn’t with anyone,” he states, brushing a fluffy feathery kiss on the pill of her cheek, her eyelids involuntarily rippling to a close at the impromptu act. “Promise.”

Y/N shouldn’t be pondering this, she shouldn’t be relishing in how intimate he is to her right now, she unquestionably shouldn’t be craving more than just the kiss that he’s given her and she can nearly visualise the unimpressed stern scowl Yoongi would be bestowing her if he could see her now. However she’s stirring it aft, there’s something in the way Taehyung speaks to her, a deep velvety baritone that rattles within her body, coercing her to adhere to his every abhorrent will, and making everything seem alright. Her chest drops when she expires despondently, “You promise?” He nods, resting his forehead considerately against hers. “I promise. I would never do that to you. Now, can I kiss my favourite girl?”

Y/N abstains from declaring he has, that he’s done it to her so many time's shes even lost count, so she acknowledges him mutely instead, a moderately embracing smile displayed on her features when he skims his lips against hers, ambiguously at first, as if he’s stalling for her to rouse to her reasoning and shove him away. She doesn’t, her palms tarry securely adhered to the wooden surface and it’s all he needs. He deepens the kiss instantly, slanting her head up slightly when he does, his soft lips eager and completely him. Y/N can’t taste a drop of liquor on the depths of his tongue, she savours the richness of milk chocolate, the divine creaminess of peanut butter and the explicit freshness of mint. And the combination is so uniquely him, she can’t help but moan in bliss. His name befalling from her parted lips as his hand massages the skin of her thighs beneath her skirt, peppering sloppy moist kisses down her throat.

Taehyung smirks against the surface. “Love the way you say my name,” he mutters. “Gets me so fucking hard, you wouldn’t believe it.” He ruts his hips into hers, the rockhard bulge tightening in his trousers grazing against the cotton material of her panties solicitously and eliciting a sensual mewl that sings like a melody to his ears. “Fuck, so beautiful.”

Y/N burrows her nails far into his forearms, breath slipping out of regular paced rhythm as he continues to rut against her. She’s enjoying this, if she were to go by the possible state of her— by far— damp panties, she’d say she’s enjoying this a bit too much. And the risks are impossibly high, if someone, be it a teacher were to walk past the long dwindled passage she’s sure she’ll struggle to attain a fitting explanation for such a compromising position they’re in. But it doesn’t faze her in the slightest. She sucks his lower lip into her mouth when he lifts his head, scraping her teeth across the flesh libidinously before releasing it. “Want you to fuck me Tae,” she whispers, bucking her hips to meet him halfway. “Please fuck me.”

“Shit—” Taehyung coasts her skirt up her thighs when he grips at her hip to hold her down in place. Sincerely, he hadn’t come here with a purpose to fuck her at all, he’d truly just needed to make sure she’d eaten because he knows how forgetful she can get this time of year when exams are looming around the corner and she’s striving to juggle everything all at once in the most Y/N fashion, so, detrimentally struggling. But, who is he to pass up an opportunity like this. “—you have to be real quiet for me.”

“I will.” Or more accurately said, she’ll give it her best shot.

“Fuck,” he growls, shifting her panties out the way and parting her lips with two long digits. She’s already so so wet for him, her dewy juices glazing and warming the surface of his skin within seconds as he rubs her deliberately, flicking and pressing onto her clit in a swift manner that has Y/N gasping with tottering tremors. Taehyung adores her reactions the most, the way bantam things he does derives such pleasant sounds from her mouth in a way he knows only he’s heard. “God, you’re pretty.”

Y/N clamps a palm over her gaping mouth a strident gasp hushed and her eyes rolling back when he sinks his broad finger into her slit, curling the digit up inside her and grinding his thumb up against her clit. She nods nimbly. “Just like that, please.”

“Uh huh, you like that?” He draws his finger out just to his knuckle before thrusting it back into her, a hastened repetitive pattern, fucking her with his fingers and rubbing vigorously at her clit. And it’s more than enough to have Y/N casting her head back, chest arching towards him and her arms flung loosely around his neck. But he wants more— she wants more. He wants to see her writhing beneath him, total power granted to him as she dissolves in his arms. So he adds another finger, quickening his pace and brushing at her g-spot with every thrust. “Bet you like that better, huh?”

“Yes— fuck, yes.”

“God, you’re such a fucking slut,” he husks, popping the buttons to her cream blouse apart with just a meagre run of his forefinger, her white bra hardly covering the plump mounds of her breast and he doesn’t waste any time, nipping at the supple flesh and marking her as his. “You’ll let me play with you wherever I fucking want, won’t you?”

Y/N whines in response, speech impaired by the way his long fingers abuse her cunt. Taehyung’s not taking it easy on her at all, he’s pumping in and out of her so rapidly that the entire table jolts marginally with the movement and she can’t help but imagine what damage his cock will do. The slushy sounds coming from her his fingers in her cunt are crass and lewd, embarrassing even, but she has no time to be bothered at all. Not when he’s speaking so erotically to her.

“You’re so fucking good like this—” He licks his lips at the sight of her, she’s definitely a work of art. One he thinks no-one could ever recreate, not his girl, definitely not Y/N. “—wish everyone could see how fucking nasty you can get. Tarnish that innocent persona of yours.”

“God Tae, I’m so fucking close.”

“Yeah? You think you can take three fingers?” He presses another digit amongst the mix, her walls clamping tight against the intrusion and he groans, he can’t fucking wait to be inside her. “Gotta stretch that tight cunt nice and ready for my cock.”

Y/N can’t even hush the stagnated moan that puffs at her lips, the pushy stretch is almost a replica of his cock, and it’s all too much for her. He’s biting at her skin, rubbing at her clit and fucking her cunt with no respite and she’s overcome her heart stuttering, mind blank with a hazy fog and her toes curling in her shoes as she lets her orgasm take over. The shockwaves quivering through her figure, ousting uncontrollably at her hips whilst Taehyung susurrates praise of ‘that’s my girl’, ‘doing so fucking well’ and ‘god, you’re hot’ in her ears. And when she comes back down, lids finally flapping to an open, he’s grinning widely at her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?”

There’s a transparent sincerity in his words, that even in her blissed-out post-orgasm state, Y/N can identify the apprehensive tic in his eye when he says it as if he thinks he’s said a little too much. She chews at her lip. “Thanks.”

Taehyung clears his throat, pressing a peck to her forehead, one that she wishes he’d take back because it’s all too cosy, all to loving and misleading. So before he can say anything, she jumps the gun, stroking slowly at the bulge in his plants and peering up at him between her lashes. “You can fuck me now… please.”

He blinks, lulling for a moment in confusion before finding his bearings. “Yeah, yes, fuck sure.” He pulls his zip down instantly, only hauling his trousers and boxers down enough that he can get his cock out freely, a relieved sigh deflating his lungs when he frees his throbbing length from its confinement. “Fuck baby, like it better when you’re bent over for me.”

Y/N shifts off the table, twirling around and hiking her skirt up with a provoking wiggle of her ass. And it’s not until she’s properly doubled over, hands clutching the table edge fixedly that she notices the sheer black string of Yoongi’s basketball bag and she internally— well she hopes internally— panics. She knows Yoongi and she knows he’s done this on purpose to use as an excuse to come back when really all he’d be doing is checking to see if she’s broken up with Taehyung yet and she’s not even close. Y/N peers back, observing the way Taehyung strokes his cock with his palm, the tip already an indignant tint of red and she knows she’s gone too far to turn back now. She huffs. “Fuck, Tae you gotta hurry it up a bit.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, one I don’t really want to get caught by a teacher with your cock inside me,” she lies, partially lies, a teacher would definitely be worse than Yoongi catching them.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” He says, raising his brow at her. “I don’t think I really mind.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. Of course, he doesn't. “Tae!”

“Alright, alright.” Taehyung smooths his tip within her lips, wetting his cock before he drives his cock into her gradually, groaning gutturally, his brows bumped together and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip at the way her clammy walls absorb him in fast. "Fuck baby," he murmurs, levelling his palm onto her ass cheek to steady himself. She’s always so fucking beautifully tight for him.

“God,” Y/N mewls, knuckles blanching when she tightens her grip. Taehyung fills her up so fully, his cock skintight against her walls, mundane crests and veins slotting perfectly and his length stretching to tickle her cervix when he’s bottomed out. “Christ, you’re so fucking thick.”

Taehyung curves his hand underneath to grasp her throat, crooking at her spine when he does. “You’re gonna have to be quieter now Y/N,” he remarks, stiffening his grip in early warning. “Know you can be a real fucking loud whore, but I need you to be my quiet little slut now. Okay?”

Y/N nods, whimpering softly as he begins to rock into her, lazy thrusts that don’t give her a fair chance to start out. He’s drawing himself out of her completely before ramming back into her, jostling her body flimsily forward and she fights to keep quiet, high pitched whines shaking at her lips that has Taehyung holding onto her throat that bit tighter everytime until she’s suppressed to pitiful cries and a buzzing lightheadedness.

She can’t do it. “Fuck, Tae, want it— need it faster.” Not only can she barely handle the intense lethargy in his strokes, but also, she really does need him to be faster, the knowledge that Yoongi could walk in at any time lingering weighted at the back of her mind and not at all sitting comfortably with her. “Need it now.”

Taehyung gives her what she wants without any fuss, he abides his secure hold on her throat, clasping at the smalls of her waist as he begins to pound into her, fast stubborn thrusts striking his hips against the cheeks of her ass way too raucously for the confines of a library, but they’re deaf to it. Both too caught up with the pleasurable feeling their surroundings become insignificant. Especially to Y/N, when he’s fucking her the way he does, impelling her insides with such carnal velocity, she can’t help but get caught up in the thought that he’s absolutely perfect for her. He knows her through and through, he knows she loves it when he pulls her taut against him, his chest against her back as he rams his cock in her at an angle that has her legs trembling. He knows she loves it when he makes it practically impossible to breathe his fingers digging so far into her throat he threatens to cut off her air supply. And he knows she loves it when he calls her his, his good girl.

Taehyung tugs on her earlobes with his teeth. “Shit, you’re such a fucking good girl for me, aren't you?” Her dewy walls clasp firmly around him, attempting to clamp him down still and he grits his teeth together, brutally fucking her swollen cunt deeper than he’d been before. “Should come right inside you, make you walk around with it running down your legs.”

“Oh fuck, please, fill me up.”

“Shit.” Taehyung’s thrusts stutter as she proceeds to clamp down on his pulsating cock, and he’s grunting, chest heaving as he twitches inside her. This is invariably his favourite part when he can pull her snug upon him, retaining her there, hands on her body when he releases himself inside her, spurting hot cords of his cum deep in her cunt and watching the way it leaks out of her when he pulls himself out. He glimpses up at her amusedly, her hair loose and wild, her lips bloodied and her cheeks flushed with sweat. She looks how he loves her, beautifully fucked out.

“How ‘bout you come to my house after, and I’ll make you feel really good later. Hmm?” He offers, trapping his cum from escaping with her panties.

Y/N sighs. Fuck, Yoongi’s really going to kill her. “Okay.”

In hindsight, Y/N shouldn’t have answered the door.

It’s not even her own house and yet she’d answered as if it were. And now she’s duly regretting it. There's a blustering ornate moment of replete stillness, a corralling overwrought minute that imperceptibly prolongs far beyond its time, unsettling her thoughts, muddling letters into indistinguishable words and relaying them in an all too manic frenzy. At least, that's what it feels like; the world seemingly to have jarred in its circular axis, inhabitants muted and dispersed into fickle nothings and all that's left is something— someone, Y/N can only describe as a memory sorely forgotten.

A memory who somehow looks mostly the same— it's been a long time, too long, she knows that. But somehow— somehow, his fulgent coral hair still tousles high with that hardly noticeable parting that impels it smoothly to the sides of his face, familiar dainty dimples indenting the skin either side of his cheek when he smiles at her briefly, causing those ticks, those zealous shakes and quivers that never fail to take her by surprise. Now, even more-so. She's stuck. Her curled fingers have gone numb against the silvered knob, feet involuntarily seeded to the timber beneath her feet, pithy breaths baited with an anxious pause as she double— triple takes. He still looks like the man she'd dreamed of a thousand dreams, he's just that bit more clean-cut, that bit more defined, that little bit more of everything she's ever wanted. "Namjoon," she says, the name leaving her lips like a whisper would, fickle and dainty, floating meaninglessly in the morning breeze. His head cleaves a paltry probing tilt, even brows drawing together in a helix and eyes squinting with definite curiosity when he finally speaks, seeming to have shaken off his own initial shock. "Y/N? Is that you?" He chances a meagre step forward, feet barely lifting from the ground. It's daring, he knows it— she shows it, her knuckles strain at the way she tightens her grip considerably, a sharp intake of breath and a responding shuffle backwards. "What am I talking about? Of course, it's you." Namjoon scoffs, more to himself than anything, an almost disbelieving chuckle falling from his lips as he shakes his head. "It's just— it's been so long, hasn't it? I haven't seen you in—" "Two years." Namjoon nods barely, scuffing his shoes on the ground beneath him as he watches her closely. Y/N recognises that look— those pretty brown eyes, orbs visibly shining amongst the light of fresh dawn, the whites ostensibly to have enlarged as his pupils ask several questions of new and old, questions she's sure she's not at all ready to answer. Not now. Not yet. Not when she can't even wrap her head around him being here. Not when she can't understand what he's doing back here— what he's doing in front of her. So she's stilted, she's wary, watching him with close guarded eyes, cutting his stuttered speech off all too harshly. "It's been two years, Namjoon," she reiterates, crossing her arms over and slacking against the outer edge of the door. 

"What are you doing here?"

all rights reserved © minstrivia

[solotriplets]

Hey guys could I get one for the halloween thing? I'm Amber and I love all three boys but have a //serious// soft spot for Ky ❤ I'm going to a halloween party this year as Persephone so I'm going ALL OUT on my costume ^-^ You guys can do whatever you like from there, maybe a costume party too? make it as spicy or fluffy as you want, I just love your writings💕 thank you so much!

@kendratheweird said: Hi I’m Kendra! I love your guys’ writing so much like dang. Could you do a lil spoop where kylo (hello yes this is me pretending I don’t call him Emo Ren in my day to day life) and me, or a generic y/n, I’m not picky, go to a costume party and their costumes happen to match so everyone thinks they’re a couple

Anon said: Hey guys as a Halloween party ask can I ask for triplet Kylo 😍. I’m 5"4, blonde and blue eyes and anxious/flustered around people that I like. My Halloween costume is a witch and for the fall activity could it be spin the bottle/7 mins in heaven with spice! Xoxo 😚🍂🍃🕸️🎃🎃🎃

A/N~ Alright it’s me Mod HaiLee! I combined you three together so I hope that’s okay with you guys and that you love what I’ve written for you! Thanks for participating in our Halloween Party 🎃

When it came to parties, no one knew how to throw them quite like Armitage Hux. Anybody who was anybody got invited, and somehow you’d received an invite to this year’s Halloween bash. Of course that wasn’t an invite you could turn down, so here you are. Your friend had disappeared some time ago into the throngs of drunken party goers; grinding and swaying to the loud EDM music. The living room had been transformed into a dancefloor while the dining room and kitchen had become the epicenter for beer pong and various other drinking games. You decided to steer clear of the living room, instead opting to hangout in the kitchen. Besides, with how good your costume looked this year, you didn’t want some stranger’s grubby hands all over it. You’d gone with Persephone as your theme.

All sorts of creatures, gory makeup clad people, and “sexy” variations of innocent concepts litter the kitchen. You stand in an empty corner where the fridge met the wall. The spot had you in the perfect position to watch body shots happening on the kitchen island.

“Oh my god, I love your costume!” A blonde girl dressed as a very skimpy version of Minnie Mouse pipes up, drawing your attention.

“Oh thanks! I’m Persephone, I made it myself.”

She raises her brow, seemingly impressed. “Wow, did you make your boyfriend’s too?”

Did you hear that right? “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah, Hades!”

But before Minnie Mouse could further explain, Daisy Duck shows up, tugging on the girl’s elbow and insisting she join the next round of Spin the Bottle. Minnie takes hold of your wrist, dragging you along with her up the stairs and to the master bedroom. It was a bold move seeing as you’d just met, but with all the alcohol this girl was sure to have consumed, her actions didn’t surprise you.

Inside the bedroom in the center of the floor sat a ring of people. In the middle an empty beer bottle twirled around before slowly coming to a stop on a maskless Spider Man.

“Pucker up.” a zombie on the other side of the circle drawled, obviously drunk, then leaned over to plant a kiss square on Spider Man’s lips.

The circle cheered, accompanied by the onlookers who’d arrived too late to be included in the current round.

“Come on, join in!” A cat motioned to the bystanders. She must be the ring leader.

The circle widened allowing space for you, Daisy, and Minnie to all sit next to each other. Everyone made themselves comfortable, glancing around at one another wondering just who they’d be lucky enough to end up kissing. This kind of thing wasn’t your usual cup of tea but you had a hard time saying no when Minnie didn’t give the opportunity to say anything at all.

The black cat centers the bottle again, readying for the next round when the door opens.

“Are we in time?” A tall, boy stumbles into the room, a grin plastered on his face. Behind him trails two more identical young men, except one sports short blonde curly hair while the other two have dark hair.

Interestingly enough, they all wore costumes reminiscent of Greek gods. Dionysus, Apollo, and the last seemed to be Hades. He wore an intricate black tunic, matching his hair, and a jagged silver crown. The brooding, expression on his face definitely made him look the part; he obviously didn’t want to be here. The cat let them join the circle, and Hades ended up right next to you.

“Your boyfriend made it.” Minnie whispers to you.

You roll your eyes, “That’s not my boyfriend.”

The cat begins the game, spinning the bottle first and landing on a chicken. A brief kiss follows then it’s on to the next. Everyone takes turns around the circle, and perhaps sooner than you’d like it was your turn. You take the bottle and spin it quickly, just wanting to get your turn over with and praying it landed on someone good. The glass bottle turned, and turned, and turned, and turned, it began to slow. The slower the bottle moved the tighter the feeling in your chest became. It was barely moving now, using up it’s last bit of momentum the bottle came to stop. The narrow end pointed just your left, you looked up to meet the brown eyes of Hades.

His expression was blank, not annoyed, but not thrilled either. You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to calm your nerves.

“Go ahead.” his voice comes out low, suprising you.

Your eyes move to his plush pink lips, he licks them causing you to do the same. The circle waits in anticipation. You’re taking an awfully long time, but with the way Hades was looking at you it didn’t make this easy. Not to mention he was incredibly handsome, that didn’t help either.

Apparently you took too long because before you could even register what was happening, Hades had a large hand behind your head, cupping you gently as he pulled your face to his; connecting your lips in a kiss. You melted into his warmth and the kiss ended up lasting a little longer then it should have. The circle screamed and hollered in response, as you pulled away you could feel the intense blush creeping into your cheeks.

“The name is Kylo, by the way.”

[starryeyed-char]

The River’s Curse

This is the first chapter of a Voltron/PJO crossover AU I’m writing. Posting today because it’s Percy’s birthday and Day 6 of VLD Whump Week- Poison! They’re all younger in this AU (Keith and Lance are both 15), and pretty much every character is going to be in it. If you want more details, you can check out the tags on AO3. Yes, there are multiple works. All other chapters I’ll just post a link for. It’s going to be really angsty (but also a decent amount of fluffiness) so get ready. Enjoy!

Summary: Lance McClain never wanted to be a hero. But he ends up at Camp Half-Blood anyway, thrown headfirst into a quest of danger, destiny, and demigods. Everyone seems to think that he's the chosen one, but... he's just a boy from Cuba.

Keith Kogane never wanted to fall in love. He learned at a young age not to get attached to people. Whenever he does, he ends up losing them. So, of course he just had to fall for the one person he knows he shouldn't.

Chapter One

They had to have made a mistake, Lance thought, gathering his small number of belongings into a backpack.

Greek mythology was just that; myth. As in, not real. And if it was real, he couldn't possibly be involved. That would be crazy... right?

Sure, he had ADHD and dyslexia, but what did that have to do with anything? It definitely didn't mean he belonged in this weird camp. Lance's family was waiting for him back home— both his parents, and his siblings.

The idea that one of the parents that he'd known all his life wasn't actually... that he could possibly be the child of a...

It was just ridiculous. Lance shouldered the backpack, and stood. He tiptoed around the bodies of the sleeping kids in the Hermes cabin, careful not to step on any toes.

The fact that Lance had yet to be claimed was just more proof to him that he wasn't really supposed to be here. Obviously, they'd made some kind of mistake. They had him confused for someone else.

But there was still that small voice in the back of Lance's head that whispered to him that it would explain a lot.

The fact that he always saw things other people didn't. That he could do things other people couldn't. That he'd always felt... different. Like he didn't quite fit.

But still, it was ridiculous. Lance was not a demigod, and he definitely wasn't a hero. He was just... just a boy from Cuba, who wanted to go home.

So that's exactly what he decided to do.

He hesitated for only a second before putting the bow and arrows he'd been using back in the armory, exactly where he’d picked them up two weeks ago.

Even though Lance was surprisingly good when it came to archery, and his aim had impressed that cool child of Hades... even though he loved using it, and it made him feel important for once...

There was just no way Lance would be fighting monsters. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. So, he wouldn't need the bow.

Soon enough, Lance was standing at the crest of the hill, right beside the tall statue that somehow created a magic barrier for Camp Half-Blood.

Lance hadn't paid attention to the details, as usual.

He tugged his jacket on over the orange shirt he still wore, against the somewhat cold night air, and picked the backpack off the ground.

With a final deep breath, he crossed through the barrier, and walked quickly down the other side of the hill.

Lance only looked back once, but it was enough to make tears start to well up in his eyes.

As wonderful as the camp was, it still wasn't home.

So Lance kept walking, unsure of how he'd actually get back to Cuba without any money. He could try and call his family on a payphone or something... the angry kid from the Ares cabin, Keith, had broken his cellphone as soon as he was brought to camp, and neither Pidge nor Hunk could fix it. Apparently, having stuff like that was a red flag to monsters.

Lance fortunately knew both his mom and his house's phone number by heart, but he was still worried that it wouldn't go through, or that his family wouldn't pick up.

“And just what do you think you're doing?” A voice interrupted his thoughts, and he knew exactly who it was even before he turned around to meet the angry purple eyes of none other than Keith, from the Ares cabin.

His hand hovered over the knife sheathed in his belt, and for a moment Lance wished that he had brought the bow, after all.

Keith Kogane was kind of famous among the other half-bloods, as Lance had learned over the past two weeks, but he couldn't see what was so great about him. Supposedly, Keith had been on the run from monsters for a while outside of camp, after running away from home at a young age. He was a year round camper, and an expert when it came to using a both sword and a dagger.

Lance just reveled in the fact that Keith was horrible when it came to target practice, and had somehow managed to flip a canoe.

Keith was also, coincidentally, the only demigod at camp with two magical items. Many people didn't even have one, Lance included, but Keith just had to have two.

He had some sort of silver knife that no one knew how he got. Demigods didn't even use silver, at least not the ones at Camp Half-Blood. Apparently it glowed, and could grow longer, but only if Keith was using it. Lance personally didn't believe a word, but Keith always carried it with him. He also happened to have a celestial bronze sword, which could transform from what appeared to be an ordinary cigarette lighter.

Because of fucking course it could.

“What does it look like I'm doing?” Lance asked, trying not to sound too defensive.

“It looks like you're leaving camp,” Keith narrowed his eyes. “But that can't possibly be true, because you'd have to be even more of an idiot than I thought you were to do that.”

“I'm not an idiot,” Lance muttered under his breath. “I just know I'm not supposed to be here.”

“Not supposed to—?! This is the one place where people like us belong!” Keith stepped towards the other boy. Lance instinctively took a step back.

“But I'm not like all of you,” Lance told him. “I don't belong here! Look, Keith, just go back, alright? If you pretend like you never saw me then you can't get in trouble with Iverson.”

“Where would you even go?”

“Back home,” Lance replied immediately. “Back to my family, in Cuba. That's where I belong.”

Keith just shook his head in disbelief. “You can't possibly think you'll be able to make it all the way to Cuba from here,” he scoffed. “You're a demigod. You'll just get yourself killed along the way.”

“I'M NOT A DEMIGOD!” Lance shouted, finally snapping. Keith stared at him in shock. “I'm... I'm not. Coran must've made some sort of mistake.”

“There's no mistaking it. If you were mortal, you wouldn't have been able to even pass through the barrier!” Keith insisted. “You're a demigod, Lance. You can't deny that now.”

“I'm not, though,” Lance said quietly. “I haven't... I haven't even been claimed yet, and I've been here for weeks. I don't have a godly parent, my parents are back home.”

Keith visibly bristled. “Lots of kids don't get claimed for a while! And it's basically confirmed you're a child of Apollo, with archery skills like yours. Or... well, some other campers think you could be Aphrodite, but—”

“I'M NOT!” Lance was shouting again, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. “I'M A CHILD OF ROSA SANCHEZ AND ALEXANDER MCCLAIN! I DON'T BELONG AT YOUR STUPID CAMP!”

With these words, Lance whirled back around, and continued his fast pace down the hill. After a moment, he heard Keith's footsteps following.

“You're going to get found by monsters before you've even made it halfway,” he informed Lance. “And you haven't even brought your bow.”

“Monsters aren't real,” Lance replied bitterly. “They're made up, and even if they weren't, I don't know what they'd want with me.”

“You know that they're real,” Keith pressed. “Or do you not remember the night that you got here?” Lance shuddered at the mention of it. Those glowing red eyes had haunted his dreams every night for the past two weeks.

“Must've been hallucinating,” Lance mumbled instead. Keith just snorted.

“And you seriously don't know what they'd want with you? Your father is an all powerful being; god of the sun, poetry, healing, and—”

“My father is back in Cuba waiting for me,” Lance interrupted, voice stern. “Same as my mother, and siblings. So, if you don't mind, I've got to get back to them.”

“You seriously think I would let you leave?”

Lance was about to point out that Keith couldn't stop him, before he realized that Keith was the one with the sword. He could very easily do so. “You'll have to drag my corpse back there,” Lance said harshly, instead. “Because I'm not going.”

There was a sharp intake of breath behind him, and Keith's steps stalled briefly before picking up the pace to follow Lance again.

“Jesus, Lance,” was all Keith seemed capable of saying.

Lance just shrugged, and kept walking. Keith followed, trying to find the right words to persuade the taller boy to come back with him, without having to resort to violence.

Soon enough Keith stepped in front of Lance again, seeing no better way to do this. He spread his arms, blocking Lance's path. He reminded himself that this was for the others own good, but it didn't feel like it with Lance glaring at him.

“I'm sorry, Lance,” Keith said firmly, not sounding sorry at all. “But if you won't come back willingly, then I'll be forced to knock you out and take you there myself.”

Lance simply continued to scowl at the shorter boy, silently contemplating whether or not he could outrun him.

His escape plans were cut short by the earth behind Keith exploding to reveal a giant snake, at least twice the size of them.

Lance had to wonder what his life had come to when his first thought was, this is the second largest snake that's tried to kill me this month.

Keith started to turn around to look, but the creature was already prepared to strike, and he hadn't even seen it yet. Lance's mind registered in a moment that anything Keith did would be too late, and in that split second he acted.

Lance rushed forward just as the monster dove, forcefully pushing Keith out of the way and putting himself in the snake's path in one movement.

He felt a sharp, searing pinprick of pain, and looked down just in time to see the serpent's head darting away from his side, ripping a shred of fabric from his shirt with it in its fangs.

As the snake moved to strike at Lance again, he found himself once again missing the bow and arrows.

A sharp tug on Lance's hood had him reeling backwards, and he gazed up to see Keith pushing him behind backwards, sword already in hand even though he'd been on the ground just seconds prior.

“I TOLD YOU!” Keith shouted angrily, before swinging the sword down over the creature's head.

With just the one slice, the monster exploded into nothing more than a pile of yellow dust. Keith sighed, returning the celestial bronze blade to its original form as a lighter. “Will you come back to camp NOW?!”  he demanded, breathing heavily.

“Hah...” Lance let out a short laugh, which made Keith spin around and glare daggers at him. But when he saw Lance his face paled, all anger replaced with fear in seconds.

Lance was clutching a hand to his side, where blood dripped from between his fingers. As he moved his hand, Keith felt panic begin to set in.

The bite mark was small, barely bleeding. Just two dots of red, really. The skin around it, however, was starting to turn a sickly shade of green.

Poison.

“You pushed me out of the way because it was going to attack me,” Keith realized. “And... it bit you instead. Why would you... why?”

“It's fine,” Lance said, voice already uneven. “I just didn't.... didn't h-have time to do anything e-else. We'll... we'll be o-okay.” His knees started to shake underneath him.

“Lance,” Keith stumbled forward, blood rushing in his ears. This can't be happening.

“G-Guess you'll... you'll really have to d-d-drag my c-corpse back th... there,” he struggled to get the words out, vision already fading around the edges.

The last thing Lance saw was Keith suddenly rushing forward, and then his eyes rolled back into his head as he collapsed.

[bazzledazzled]

Royally Your Dork- Chapter Two

Well... I guess chapter two is a go.... Hope you enjoy!!!!

Chapter One

Read it on ao3

“Your Highness,” one of the servants says, rushing into the grand hall. It’s decorated with elegant tapestries that depict scenes throughout their countries history, how they battled the former rulers, the Titans, as they were called then, and then created something out of nothing. How three brave heroes lead the group, and the other nine came close behind. It showed them splitting up land, making sure that certain people where near certain resources, such as the kingdom of Poseidon is near the ocean and the kingdom of Artemis is near the Forest of the Nymphs.

Athena’s kingdom was a place of history. They treasured the knowledge of their past, and believed that they had to understand their ancestors mistakes to avoid any further chaos. They were part of the reason the twelve kingdoms have been in peace for so long.

But apparently those times where over.

“You have visitors,” the servant says, looking up at the queen and the princess at her side, who furrowed her brow. Surely any visitors would’ve sent word ahead of their arrival?

“Who?” Queen Athena asked.

“I believe it’s one of Apollo’s children….”

“A prince?”

“Yes. And a knight.” That puzzled Princess Annabeth. What business did their northern neighbours have with them?

“Send them in.” The servant left, and when she returned she was with two boys, one taller than the other with blond hair, and the other shorter with black hair. Both of their clothes were filthy, looking out of place in the elegant palace with its white marble floors and golden thrones. They both had blood smeared on their clothes, faces, and hands, and Annabeth wondered how much of it was theirs.

The blond boy bowed. “Good afternoon, Your Majesty.”  Athena then realized who the two boys were.

“Prince William?”

“Yes, my Lady.”

“What happened to you. Your clothes are filthy and... is that blood?”

“....Yes.”

“Your Majesty if I may….” Nico says with a bow. “We seek shelter in your kingdom. The rebel forces have reached King Apollo’s kingdom and he ordered me to take Prince William here and make sure he’s safe.”

“The rebels have gotten to Apollo’s kingdom?”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“Oh that is awful indeed. Where their any casualties?” Will’s body tenses as the memory of his brother’s bloodied body comes to mind. Nico puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes your Majesty. Unfortunately. But we were able to make it out before the rebels could catch us, and we were hoping that we could stay here for a few days to gather our energy before we continue our journey to Hermes’ kingdom and then later Zeus’.”

“Why yes of course. Your people are always welcome in our kingdom.” Will let’s out a breath of relief.

“Thank you, your Majesty. My kingdom is in great debt to you.”

“There’s no need. Hopefully we can bring the rebels to Zeus’ attention and strategize the best way to rid ourselves of them.” Will smiles and nods his head.

“Annabeth. Would you be so kind as to show our new guests to their rooms.”

“Of course, mother.” Annabeth says, standing up.

“Right this way boys,” she says, leading them down a bunch of twisting corridors that never seemed to end. They went up dozens of spiral staircases and it practically made Nico’s head hurt with all of it. Why where palaces always so big ? Even though Nico’s lived in them for most of his life, he never fully understanded why they needed to be bigger than an average mansion. It only led to more confusion, and that was before you added all the secret passageways for cases when the kingdom was under attack, just like the ones him and Will used the day before.

Most of the time the secret passages weren’t used for that purpose though. The only reason Nico was able to navigate through them practically dragging his feet was because when him and Will were younger and he first arrived at Apollo’s kingdom, Will would drag him along on things he called “adventures.” He was constantly slipping away from his duties, dragging Nico along with him as he held an oil lamp above their heads as the light flickered across the shadows, chasing them away. They would pretend that they were going to fight secret battles, or sometimes just found comfort in just sitting in the dark together, Will’s musical voice drifting through the darkness.

Nico would be lying if he said he didn’t treasure those memories. They were the small times of happiness he had left. Before his father sent him away, his sister passed away from an extreme illness, her spirit sometimes seeming to linger in the halls. To be honest, Nico couldn’t blame his father for sending him away, because he was afraid to loose someone else. Everything that happened with Bianca was so sudden, and Hades couldn’t bare the thought of whatever took her catching up to Nico as well. So he sent him away, thinking that if everyone he loved was taken out of his sight, he might be able to bare his emotions.

Nico has heard little from his father, but deep in his heart, he still hopes that he is okay and his kingdom is thriving.

“Here we are. Get washed up and then we’ll discuss further plans over dinner.”

“Thank you, Princess Annabeth.”

“Of course.”

“This is worse than we thought.” Grimly, Nico and Will nodded their heads.

“We never really considered the rebels much of a threat, but my kingdom has some of the best defenses, but they still managed to slip past those with ease, failing on their attempt to assassinate me but still managing to hurt the royal family,” Will says his throat getting choked up.

“Do we have any idea of what they're after.”

“No, my lady. They seem to only want control of the twelve kingdoms and are working their way up to the most secure facilities.”

“Have we noticed any patterns in their attacks? Maybe we can guess where they will strike next and prepare the citizens?”

“I'm afraid that their attacks seem to be random. The last one was in Demeter’s kingdom, and we hardly share a border with them. The only way they could've made it to our kingdom this quickly is if they passed through the Forest of the Nymphs, and only the members of Artemis’ court dare enter.”

“Interesting. Do you think maybe they had other means of travel?”

“Possibly. But then again, they still would've had to pass through your kingdom to get to us, and with all the procedures you have gone through to keep this city safe…. I highly doubt they went through here.”

“We need to bring this to the attention to the rest of the twelve kingdoms. We must all be on high alert and monitor all citizens moving in and out of each kingdom.”

“That seems like our wisest decision. We’ll see to it in the morning.”

“Of course.” With that, Nico and Will excused themselves from the table, heading back to their rooms. Once they were out of Queen Athena’s presence, Will let his shoulder slump and let out a deep breath.

“I feel like death.”

“Of course you do.”

“Are you mocking me?”

“No, of course not.

“Okayyyyy.” They then erupt into a fit of giggles. Really, there was no reason for them to laugh, but it felt good to. Everything has been so serious and heartbreaking lately as everything fell apart. None of it was slow. None of it came with a warning. It all just came crashing down, all within a day.

“What’s on your mind, your Highness?” Nico asks, noticing the expression on Will’s face.

“I’d wish you’d stop doing that.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I think I’m just worried for the twelve kingdoms. I wouldn’t wish anyone to be doomed to my fate.”

“Who said it was bad?” Nico whispers.

“Of course it’s bad, Nico. I don’t know anything about what will happen to my family. They could all be--”

“I know. But maybe if we figure out what the rebels want, we could make a better country. And don’t tell me that our land is perfect. It’s not.”

“Well look who became optimistic.”

“I’ve been thinking a little,” Nico admits, fingering the black sword strapped at his side. He’s gotten so used to it that he can’t imagine a life without it, and it was his only link back to his family.

“Oh?”

“Don’t sound surprised. I was just thinking that… maybe there is flaws in our system. I mean, humans aren’t perfect, so why should our government be?”

“I guess you’re right. I still don’t know where this attitude is coming from. Last night you were telling me that there was no way to compromise with the rebels.”

“Well if I didn’t say that you would’ve went back… Plus maybe you’ve changed my mind.” Will looks appalled.

“You actually agree with me for once? What is this alternate universe?”

“Shut up.”

“Nope. I can’t. This is something that needs to go down in the history books.”

“Stoppppp.”

“ On this day, Prince Nico di Angelo, son of Hades has for once sided with his brilliant friend, Prince William Solace, son of Apollo. ”

“Oh now you’re just being a dork.”

“What’s this? Speaking informally? Who are you and what have you done with Nico?”

“Oh my god. I can’t--” Nico walks away towards his room.

“Wait where are you going? We haven’t made the official statement yet!”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re annoying?” Nico says as Will catches up with him, matching his stride.

“Yes many times. But that is another first from you.”

“Well I have no idea what has kept me from telling you for so long.”

“Aww you know exactly what it is. You’re a good little soldier,” Wil says, ruffling Nico’s hair. Nico pushes him away.

“Stoooooppppp.”

“What? This?” Will says, resting his elbow on Nico’s head. Nico grumbles.

“Wow you are like the perfect height for this.”

“Shut up. Just because you’re tall doesn’t mean you can pick on me,” Nico says, shoving his arm off.

“But why not? You’re a cute little ball of anger.” Nico just rolls his eyes.

“I don’t have any words for your idiocy.” Will snorts. Sometimes Will was able to have conversations with Nico like this. Most of the time it was when he was too tired to care whether or not it was “proper” or “traditional.” Honestly, Will wanted to just throw tradition in the trash and talk to Nico like normal friends would. But Nico probably didn’t even consider them friends like Will did. He was sort of just always… forced to be there. Honestly, Will had no idea what Nico thought of him, and sometimes that idea twisted at his gut in the dead of night and he wondered how many friends he really had. If Nico wasn’t a friend, then who was?

“You’re just jealous.”

“Of what? Being stupid?”

“That I'm taller than you.” Nico stares at him for a moment, squinting his eyes a little with a look on his face that said “what is wrong with you?”

It was adorable.

“Honestly I don’t understand how you’re a prince. You must’ve been switched at birth.”

“Impossible. I look too much like both of my parents.”

“That explains everything.”

“Same goes for you Mr. Dark and Brooding.”

“I am not--”

“Yes you are,” Will says, with no hesitation.

“I’m going to sleep.” Nico says, going into his room and closing the door.

“Night!” Will called cheerfully. He then proceeded to go to his room where he laid down on his bed and breath in the unfamiliarity of it all. The sheets were crisper than the ones at home and smelled like roses instead of lavender. Everything was put neatly in place, unlike the mess that Will called a room at home. Out his window wasn’t a forest view, but a city with houses crowded around libraries as if they were churches. Nothing was the same here, and it made Will’s heart ache with longing. It was easy to put on a bright smile around company. It’s what he was trained to do his whole life. But it was even harder to maintain it as he sat in the dark of his new room, trying to urge the homesickness away that swept over him like a tidal wave. Everything that he has ever known was gone, and Nico and his memories were the only things left of his past.

[misswargon]

11,19,24, and 25 for phearia, 10, 21, 39, 32 for xidoe!! (i will probably think of more to send it is just late)

I thought I posted this but apparently it's been sitting in draft hell I am so sorry

Phearia:

11. Do they have any special diet requirements? Are they a vegetarian? Vegan? Have any allergies?

In the quickest, crash course answer I can, Phearia has an eating disorder because of shenanigans with Kronos. So when she's on a steady eating schedule, she eats vegetarian because meat usually causes her to relapse. Usually if you gotta coax her to eat, use oranges or orange flavored things, they're her favorite.

19. What’s their least favourite genres?

Funnily enough, horror/survival. She spends enough of her time inflicting horror on people that she doesn't like to spend her free time focusing on it. There's not a specific type of music she hates, but she tends to avoid loud and fast pace, it's not her forte.

24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?

I've actually been thinking about this a lot for the last few months and thus I was really happy this was one of them (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟSo here we go! she usually gets about three hours of sleep before sunset because that's usually when her and Apollo's schedules line up that they can just lay down and relax She usually naps at some point throughout the day too. She doesn't snore but what position she sleeps in reflects on if she's having bad dreams, the more she curls up, the worse the dream. She can also sleep just about anywhere, since she was on the run for so long and couldn't really be picky, however she prefers soft things, specifically really big comforters. She likes giant fluffy things she can sink into because they feel safe to her.

25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves?

Phearia has a lot of historical humor because she's so frickin old. She also will turn anything in her life into a joke because it's her belief that if she views it seriously, it's just depressing. She also isn't above laughing at silly things like googly eyes stuck on top of a pic of a friend or those canned snake pranks.

Xidoe:

10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect?

Xidoe adores children. I think children like him up until they brush against him because he's freezing, but he's a very calm presence but he has a lot of energy so he's really nice to be around. Xidoe has four children and he LOVES them, he's very much a "let's play dress up, let's make flower crowns, let's go to an amusement park" type of parent. He doesn't like to stay inside so he's always out exploring with his kids. He wasn't very strict as a parent up until his daughter started dating an assassin and then it was a bunch of internalized screaming and checking up on her to make sure she was still alive.

21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper?

Xidoe is unbelievably patient with people. He will almost always give someone the benefit of the doubt. He doesn't lash out when he loses his temper, he's the "will destroy your lifetime of work in a five minute phone call" type of person. Since it takes him forever to turn against people, by the time he decides there's nothing worth salvaging in a person he usually has enough information to completely obliterate their way of life.

32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like?

He mostly wears either really nice taylored suits (sometimes pansuits) with wedges (because he is very sort and his bf is very tall) or he wears really flowy dresses and goes barefoot, there is no in between. Xidoe 100% wears the fashion he likes. I haven't given much thought into night ware but probably nothing?Cause he's made of ice and fabric holds heat? Makeup is usually just mascara and occasionally if he's pretending he's a normal human he'll color his eyebrow a medium brown so people assume his hair is dyed. He doesn't wear much more than that since his skin tone has a blue/purple tint to it. His hair reaches his collar bone and is in three layers, ( the pale blackberry copic marker is the closest I've come to matching his hair color) It always covers his right eye due to a narly scar that left him partially blind.

39. Do they like letters? Or prefer emails/messaging?

Letters! Any kind of letters as long as they're handwritten. Doesn't matter if they're several pages long or just small sticky notes with cute reminders.

[barakobean]

Precilla's Torture Box - Meudon

“I can’t see anything. I remember leaving the night lamp before I sleep, but now, my room is pitch black. I woke up to a strange melody from the piano in the living room, but now, I couldn’t hear a thing. What was that song again? I can’t remember, maybe it’s just a dream.” In her head, she muttered. She tries to move to her head to the side but her eyes can only see as far as the edge of the ceiling. She moves her right arm to turn on the night lamp but she can only feel the cold wind from the window brushing the bare skin of her arms, shoulder and face. Her head started to sink into the pillows, deeper as the soft feathers tried to cover her face. She screams… “Ishmael! Ishmael!” And she opens her eyes, gasping for air. Breathing heavily, she looked at a dark figure at the foot of her bed. Her hands were illuminated by the street lamps piercing the thin sheets of curtain hanging from her window, but the figure just stood there, silent, unmoving, faceless. It seems to stare at her for a moment when a thud from a fallen item caught her attention. “Chiho, you scared me. Come baby.” And the cat purred as it slyly jumped into the bed with Precilla.

“Andrea, don’t forget to lock the door when you get in tonight. I am going ahead to the store. There’s coffee and some toast on the table.” “Yes your highness.” And the house music played on as water rushed from the shower.

Precilla opens the door and is greated by the cold wet wind of February. It is already 10 AM, but it seems that the sun has no intention of showing up. She started to walk at the corner of Cyril Magnin, through 6th Street going to Mission. The bricked side streets are wet from the rain last night. It must have been difficult for the homeless. “Hey lady, I heard you had a nice and wet sleep last night. I bet you paid a whole lot for that handsome Latino.” A tall black homeless woman dragging a trolley shouted at Precilla as she nears Mission alongside Nordstrom. She stopped for a bit, and looked for her cigarette. “Oh shit! Here you are my long and thin darlings. Come to mama and make me feel better.” She enters the store with a plush pink wall paint and an indiscreet sign saying Good Vibrations. It is just a 5-minute walk from the Lofts, but it took her 10 minutes to get to the store since she smoked. At exactly 10:15, she was late, but it doesn’t matter. She owns the store anyways. It’s warm inside, and the smell of silicone and sweet lotions flowered the store. There were magazines near the fire exit and several posters hang on the right side of the shelf. Some feathers, coiled straws and candies adorn the left side of the fire exit. In the middle, there is stand for lotions of different scents and consistencies. On the left side of the entrance door, just in front of the cashier, there are displays of pretend penile shafts and heads, some include the balls of different sizes and colors. There are also some small mechanical trinkets the size of the thumb with free batteries. Tubes are displayed towards the corner with different flavors of condom. Rebecca stood by the door greeting the customers, giving them flyers of the February promotions and occasionally informing them that we don’t allow bags in the establishment. Then redirecting them to the side of the cashier where their bags are taken and given wooden clips with numbers.

It was 11 when a thin olive skinned boy came in. He took his beanie off revealing a dark brown, shoulder length, wavy hair. He doesn’t seem to be from the area with an awkward smile and a mercurial accent. “Hi. I came back with my passport.” They boy smiled and examined the tubes. “Is there anything in particular you are looking for?” Rebecca smiled trying to assist the little man. “I am getting two of these.” Nervously grabbing the Apollo Max penis sleeve. He stared for a moment at the lubes and grabbed a 50 ml bottle of Gun Oil. “I think that one isn’t compatible with the Apollo Max. You need a water-based lube for that so that the sleeve wouldn’t disintegrate.” Rebecca handed a bottle of Please and placed the Gun Oil back into the shelf as the foreign boy approached the cashier.

“That would be $51.25. May I have your ID please?” Precilla demanded. The boy scrambled through his blue messenger bag and handed his passport. “April 25, 1980. Is this really yours? You don’t look like the picture.” “Yes, that’s me Precilla.” He looked straight into her eyes, and she blushed. Those dark brown eyes pierced through her and gave her a slight tingling between her legs. Besides the fact that she knows what he will do with the stuff he bought when he gets home, he knows her name. “Sorry, I am not sure if it is polite to call you by your name, but that’s the only thing on your pin aside from the tongue drawing.” Precilla laughed and the boy dropped his gaze. “Do you need a bag for these? Sorry I forgot to ask you.” And she handed his passport. “No, I am just going to put these in my bag. By the way, don’t call the black man by his name. It would be difficult to have him leave once he thinks you wanted him.” “Say again.” “Oh sorry, I was just singing this song. See? Skullcandy?” The boy left leaving Precilla dumfounded.

She stared at the mirror as Silicone Lube played in her Iphone. Precilla, naked, is half black, half Guatemalan. Her eyes are green, and she has freckles on her nose, forehead, cheeks and neck. She’s not that tall at 5’7” with shoulder length curly hair. She puts her hand to her waist and examined her belly. It is soft but without any revolute convexity. From her navel up to her breasts, her hand moved gently as it massaged her breasts up to her neck. She pulled her hair up and tied it. Her breasts looked glorious with her arms raised, she thought. She dropped them and gently moved between her legs. She ran her fingers through her thin pubes rubbing the button-like structure above her slit. It feels good for a while that she started to moan silently. Another touch to this area, and she felt a slight wetness in her middle finger. She looked at the mirror, mouth parted, but to her shock a figure in black leather mask and suit is behind her. Screaming, she woke up pillows and blanket on the floor with breast fully exposed to the chilly air from the, again, open window… “Precilla wake up. Wake up girl. There’s a fire drill in the building. The management asked all tenants to participate.” “Andrea, it’s a Saturday. And what on earth are you wearing?” Her hip jingles as coins and beads hit each other in her hip scarf. Andrea sports a flowing fish skirt above her bare ankle and feet. A choli top just above her navel wraps her cup D breasts with a knot just below the inferior angles of her scapula. “Dance lessons? Uhmmm, Precilla, your breasts are so firm.” “Will you stop that. I am already awake. See they are both standing now” pointing at her nipples. “I am not going to that fire drill. Am going to get some coffee,” and she walked towards the kitchen topless. “Fine then. I am gonna go down and head straight to the lesson after the drill. There’s a package for you at the table. I checked the mailbox this morning and saw that addressed to our unit. It doesn’t say it’s for you. I just assumed. We both know how much trouble I’ll be in if “They” find out my address.” Andrea slammed the door without hearing what Precilla has to say. The coffee is bitter. They ran out of sugar packets from Carls Jr. Precilla made another sip as she waited for the soup in the microwave. “In the vaults of our hearts and brains, danger waits. All the chambers are not lovely, light and high. There are holes in the floor of the mind, like those in a medieval dungeon floor – the stinking oubliettes, named for forgetting, bottle-shaped cells in solid rock with the trapdoor in the top. Nothing escapes from them quietly to ease us. A quake, some betrayal by our safeguards, and sparks of memory fire noxious gases – things trapped for years fly free, ready to explode in pain and drive us to dangerous behavior…” The television droned the lines of Hannibal Lecter as Precilla watched closely at the inside of the oven. The bowl keeps on turning as her mind wandered to the idea of it exploding to her face. She has always been afraid of the microwave. The eerie hum as the thing is turned on and the flopping of the lid as the contents boil make her uneasy. Finally, her lunch is ready, so she opened the microwave door, and bare hands, she took the bowl and placed it on the coffee table. “Owww! Fuck! Too hot!” She cursed as the bowl touched the magazines, dripping with creamy mushroom and potato soup. Four champagne red satin lace, each 2 feet long, a piece of black leather the size of dice, and a note with numbers 809 8846 and the word meudon were the contents of the package. Precilla placed her cup on the kitchen counter and examined the piece of leather. It is soft, smooth and fine grained. It smelled of oak and fir. It brushed her nose, her cheeks and lips. It nauseated her like some surfaced old memory. It excited her, made her heart beat faster and louder as it pumped hot blood to her neck, her lips and eyelids. She started to rub her pubis to the handle of the dishwasher. Slowly, she bent her knee and moved up and down to hit her front upon the handle. She stopped and opened her eyes, lips folded inside her mouth to keep the leather from falling, and the cold tiles at her feet woke her delirious senses.