#like when do we ever get to hear about how a mortal's parent responds to their child being with a god. almost never? they're so interesting

[bayetea]

actually the most interesting pjo dynamic is grandma zhang and mars

[bks-writing-adventures]

Little Dancer (Aemond Targaryen X Lannister! Reader)

Summary: A wholesome little journey between the first time Aemond met his wife to the birth of their children.

Warnings: Mentions of childbirth, brief mentions of sex.

Aemond never thought he would be a father. He never even thought he would get married, until you came around at a ball. He forgot what it was, a name day of his nephews? Some celebration for his parents marriage? None of it mattered, because he sat still at his family table, watching the room dance and watching lords get drunk and stupid. And all of a sudden you had blocked his view, your hands on either side of his plate. 

“Do all Princes sit pouting at balls?” You asked. The question flustered him, his one eye meeting yours. It was like you were challenging him, and the thought made his heart spin in his chest. 

“Only when he has no one to dance with.” He answered. The words magically came to him, and he held his breath as he had waited for you to respond. 

“It is a good thing I am here then, is it not? Or would you rather sit here, eating scraps and wishing to be elsewhere?” You were so teasing- so confident, and before he knew it, his hand was wrapped around yours, and you were walking backward as you dragged him to the dancefloor. He did not have the time to be self conscious, and he could no longer let his eye wander as his hands landed on yours, spinning you, watching how your skirts swished and your hair got fluffy and frizzed. 

“So who are you, my little dancer?” He asked softly, holding you closer to him. You were warm, and he couldn’t tell what was making his heart pound. Your presence or the wine, or maybe an intoxicating blend of both.

 “(Y/N) Lannister,” You answered, licking your lips as the song ended. “If you wish to get to know me, we should move somewhere quieter,” You said gently, and he smiled as his eye wandered. 

“I know a place,” He said softly, his arm linked with yours as he carefully lead you out and into the gardens. It was quite the scandalous thing, he was well aware- but he didn’t care enough to stop. His brother was far from proper, he was a criminal and a disappointment. Speaking to a pretty girl in the garden would not be the worst crime. The garden hiccuped with the sounds of grasshoppers and frogs, and you smiled at the sound. 

“Do you know what that sound is?” You asked softly, and he gave you a curious look as you walked further into the great land of flowers. 

“Frogs,” He said simply, to which you nodded. 

“Mating frogs. Do you know how many eggs a frog can lay at once?” You asked.

 “Do you tell everyone your favorite amphibians facts, or am I special?” He smiled a little, trying not to let his interest show on his face. 

“There are facts much more interesting than that,” You answered, and for a few minutes, the two of you simply walked in the quiet. 

“How many eggs can a dragon lay?” You asked. 

“You take an interest in dragons, My Lady?” He asked in return, to which you nodded. He quietly sat on a bench, pulling you down to sit beside him. The moonlight did not do much to guide either of you, but he could make out the bridge of your nose and the slight shine of your eyes in the darkness. “Well, they can lay five, at most.” He responded, wondering if that would be enough for you.

 “Why is that? And what are they like?” You asked, resting your chin on your hand. You had always liked to learn about science, and this was your way in. Into the world of infinite books and knowledge. And he just had such a pretty face, which definitely helped the case. 

“The eggs? They’re hard and large and scaly,” He responded, reaching over to touch your hand. It was a daring move, but he wanted to feel you. In the darkness, touch the soft skin of your hand and wrist, and you didn’t move away.

 “Why is that? Are they not reptiles?” You asked quietly, and he had to lean closer to hear you.

 “Dragons cannot be put into a box, My Lady. They are everything and nothing. No mortal could ever learn to understand them,” He murmured, gently guiding your hand to his mouth so he could kiss it. He wasn’t sure what it was about you that attracted him so. You were just so unconventional, untrained. It was fascinating. 

“Not even Targaryens?” You asked softly as his breath tickled your fingers.

 “Certainly not. We only shout commands and hope they listen,” He chuckled softly. He was about to speak again when a loud shout suddenly broke the walls of intimacy around them. For the love of Gods, this did not look good. He wasn’t sure if he pushed your hand away, or if you pulled it back, but all contact was quickly broken as the two of you rushed to stand up. 

“Aemond, what is the meaning of this?” His mother sounded rather angry. She always was, whenever something like this happened. This was the worst possible time for her to wander over. 

“Mother, I was simply conversing with the Lady Lannister, and-” She cut him off, making his lips purse. 

“Without a chaperone, in the darkness, away from the sights of others? Do you understand how scandalous this is?” As you both shrunk under her lecture, neither of you argued back. And soon enough you and Aemond were sat before his mother and your own as they discussed. 

“We did nothing unholy. We were only speaking of the anatomy of dragons,” You frowned, to which your mother quickly shook her head.

 “Is that what they call it nowadays? This is out of control, and now your honor is ruined,” She huffed, and you stared down boredly at your hands. This is not how you thought your night would go, and the next sentence only made things more bizarre. 

“Her honor is not ruined, and I will ensure it. I intend to make (Y/N) my wife.” Aemond spoke, making your head quickly turn. All arguments died out like a flame without air, his eye soft and apologetic as he looked at you. But neither of you could claim to be mad about it. It was only the Gods’ odd way of making a match, and the next days were full of shy conversation and blushing cheeks, loomed over by your parents as they dissected every interaction.  

“I have a gift for you,” he said softly, pulling out a large book from his bag. It was bigger than your head, and the spine as so thick it could easily be mistaken for a brick. 

“Wow,” You mumbled, trying to read the front cover, but it is not in Common. Your eyes looked to his face, a curious look taking over your own.

 “It is in High Valyrian, its one of the oldest books in our library- well, not that one, that is a copy. The original would crumble like sand in your palms. But the language will be important for you to learn, I thought we could practice together,” He spoke, getting a little shy. It was a sweet sight, and you nodded as he explained. 

“Then you should allow me to teach you some Nyvia.” You responded. His brows scrunched a little. He had never heard of the language in his life.

 “And what is that?” He asked gently, intrigued. He didn’t realize you were bilingual, too.Your children would be an interesting batch. 

“My mothers first language. It is dying out, not many speak it anymore. Are you familiar with the island of Nyav?” You asked, and he nodded slowly. He had read about it in history books. It had been a brilliant place of beautiful plants and even more beautiful people. The stories said that it was lost to the sea, or to conquering, no one was sure. You were like a God of the old world, sitting right before him. 

“She lived there as a young girl, escaped before it disappeared, when she was betrothed to my father. I will admit that my own speaking is messy, but at least it is alive,” You spoke, slowly opening the book he had given you. You squinted a little. The letters were familiar, but the order was unlike anything you had ever seen. The longer he looked at you, the more questions formed in his head. 

“Do you think you have any Valyrian in you?” He asked. Nyvia had belonged to no one at all, no one knew where the people came from, only that they had not been there all along. Perhaps it had begun with Targaryen’s fleeing the Doom, or other Valyrians that escaped to the sea and washed upon its shores. 

“I do not think so. I do not look the part,” You reminded him, watching as his hand inched closer to yours, your fingertips brushing. It was perhaps the most touch you would be allowed until after you were married.

 “White hair does not make a Valyrian. It was only a thought,” He said, gently shrugging. His mind wandered to your children, the ones he would have with you. How many there would be. If they would have hair like yours, or hair like his own. How they would look on dragonback, and if you could all fly together as a family. Vhagar was more than big enough for two. You could hold his waist, and he would fly ahead of the children, and they would follow him like ducklings. Maybe you would have 12 children, one for every moon of the year. He cleared his throat as his mother called for him. Your meeting was done for the day. And when two more moons passed, it was finally your wedding day. Your dress clung to every part of your body, and your hair was covered with a heavy veil, beaded with pearls and gems big enough to pay off an entire house. 

The maids had tried to get you to agree to having pinned hair, or a more tradition style, but you declined. You never liked having too much on you, weighing you down. The air was stuffy with the breath of hundreds, and you tried not to look at the crowd as Aemond stood before you. “Kessa sagon sȳz.  Laesi va nyke.” He murmured softly, and you nodded as your eyes studied his face. He was wearing his fanciest eyepatch. You wondered how many were in his collection, and if you would ever see him without it. If he slept with it on. As you both repeated the words of the Septon, and it came time for the kiss- you stared at each other for a long, awkward few seconds, trying to figure out which one of you would lean in first. You may have been brave enough to approach him that first night, when he was just a sulking stranger. But now things were so much bigger. You had an audience. 

Finally, once he accepted you would not be the one to do it, he leaned down to press a brief, awkward kiss on your mouth, and you both parted with small, sheepish smiles. Once you were at your table, you both let out deep breaths from your lungs, and finally,you could curl up together, your arms looped around his as you giggled into his sleeve. “That was unbearable,” Your words were light, but the hit was strong, and he chuckled awkwardly. He had hoped the kiss was not that bad. But he felt a wave of uncertainty rushing into him. The first kiss was supposed to be magical, like you were bathing in fire and pureness and all that was good. But it felt like a child smushing two dolls together. 

He only hoped that with time, things would get better. And oh, how they certainly did. The bedchamber was full of soft sounds, and for every moan came ten laughs and raised brows. “Mm.. you sound like you are being murdered,” He murmured into your shoulder, and you smiled as you squeeze his hand. 

“And you sound like you’ve run 30 miles,” You responded as he panted onto your skin. 

“Oh, hush,” He smiled, gently biting your neck. 

“Little vampire,” You mumbled before he gently guided your face down to a pillow. He did not expect anything to come of your night of teasing and touch, but when six weeks had passed, he woke in the morning to you squirming from his arms. 

“It is too early for you to wake.” He grumbled. He had been an early bird before your marriage, before he was up into the early hours of dawn inside you, kissing you, teaching you High Valyrian as you tried to teach him Nyvia. 

“Yoane,” He spoke, and you shook your head. 

“Yo-awn-ee.” You repeated, and he tried once more.

 “Yoane,” He nodded, and you groaned into your hands.You were trying to teach him the words for love, your face pink with laughter. But as you rushed to the bathroom, your face took on an almost gray hue, and he found himself holding your hair in a big bundle as you spittled into the chamberpot, your belly soft and your nose sensitive. You were with child, or perhaps three or four, for when you reached your second trimester, you were a giant.

 “Mmm… you are like a dragon,” He mumbled as he kissed upon your stretched skin. 

“How so?” You asked softly, caressing his hair as his cheek pressed onto your belly. 

“You are going to lay a whole clutch. You must have three or four in here,” He marveled at the size of you, and you rolled your eyes.

 “I am telling your mother that you said that,” You responded, making his brows scrunch together.

 “You would not dare.” In the months of your marriage, Queen Alicent had grown quite attached to you. While she loved her son, she had always found him to be rather an intense man. She wasn’t afraid of him, no, but she never thought he would find marriage. Find joy. She thought he would grow old and become a knight or a philosopher, and she was quite pleased with you for bringing out these new parts of him. And so, if she learned of his comments of your size, she would beat him messy with a sock. When you were finally about to burst at the seams, you learned that there were things far more stressful than a wedding day. It was like everyone wanted to see your baby plop out, Alicent walking the room as they propped your legs off. 

“Would you mind leaving the room? This is a rather private matter,” Aemond spoke to his mother in a hushed voice, to which she gently shook her head.

 “And I am to be the grandmother of this child. I am close family, am I not? This is a huge deal for you, my youngest son having his first child!!” She gushed, and you shifted uncomfortably.

 “It may be hours before the baby arrives,” You groaned quietly, pushing the small wooden tools away from your legs. “I do not wish for too many to see my blood and my mess,” Your eyes held a certain fire, and your jaw clenched, and slowly her face filled with an understanding, nodding slowly. You were no Rhaenyra, and you were no enemy. You were her daughter in law, the wife of her youngest son. And so quietly, she left the room, leaving you to the midwives, the maesters, and your husband.

 “Perhaps you would like to leave, My Prince. It is not necessary for the husband to stay,” One of the Maesters spoke, to which you quickly shouted. 

“If you leave me I will ensure that you never get to hold the baby.” You said quickly. 

“I would not dream of it, my dearest,” He responded, coming closer so you could hold his hand. Several hours passed of loud noises and angry shouts, little crescent moons cut into his hand from your grasp. Child after child escaped your womb, until a whole batch of seven was swaddled. The midwives had to call for backup to tend to all the children, each of them around five pounds. It was a concerning miracle, and Aemond’s eye widened as he stared at all the squirming infants.

 “By the seven..” He murmured, quite literally. A child for every god. What a miracle it was. His heart fluttered with fear as he reached out to one of the infants, the only girl, her hand slowly curling around his finger. It was beautiful and scary all at once, like a comet scratching the sky. It was all so very real all of a sudden, his breath catching in his throat as his eye watered.

 “Are they all healthy?” You asked softly, sitting up slowly, your hands curling up. “Yes,” One of your handmaids quickly told you. 

“Small but mighty, they are all warm and crying,” She spoke, wiping sweat from your face. You smiled, taking a deep breath, your eyes slightly puffy as two of the babies were placed on your chest. Two of the boys, one with hair like your own, and the other with a head of snow, little curls still damp from birth. “Look at his little swirly wirlies.” You mumbled, and Aemond chuckled as he leaned over, two of the babies in his own arms. One with gingery Hightower hair, the other with hair like his own. What the litter you had. “How many girls?” You asked softly, reaching to gently take the blankets off, but Aemond answered you before you had to use your energy. 

“Just the one,” He said softly, placing her on your belly. The two of you laid in the bed for hours, covered in babies on every limb and surface. It was a mess, a loud swarm of little coos and crying. But neither of you had ever been happier. Aemond never thought he’d be a good father, but he sure could do his best.

Thank you to everyone who reads!! Feel free to send in requests :)

-BK ♡

[lady-raidia]

Hi my fellow german ♡

If you're up to, I'd love to request a Gil-Galad x reader writing (: I'm so sad that there is still not much out there. Something fluffy like love at first sight or first kiss (or both haha)

Thank you so much in advance!♡

Hey there! 💗 I am so sorry that you had to wait such a long time for me to respond! :( I was suffering from a writers block and I couldn't write anything for months :'( But I am back and I am trying to catch up! I hope that you enjoy this One-Shot (or maybe two shot hehe) even though it ended up a little bit shorter than I wanted to. But I will try to write a part 2 for this one, so we can have more Gil-Galad content hehe. Again, I am so sorry that you had to wait for such a long time! And I am sorry if my english sounds weird in the story :o But please enjoy! 💗💗

FOREST HEART - GIL-GALAD IMAGINE

Pairing: Gil-Galad x Reader

Summary: You are an old friend of Galadriel and visit her in Lindon, where you wander off into the forest. You just wanted to enjoy the nature but you found a hidden treasure that will change your life.

Warnings: None, just some Gil, snobby language and bad english.

Request Here / Masterlist

Nestled amidst ancient trees and shimmering waters, you have lived a life full of peace and harmony. You had chosen this life, far from Lindon, to escape the gossip and side-eyes you would get when passing by other elves who knew you were not like them. Your father was an elf, but your mother was of the race of men. She was the most beautiful woman you have ever seen but the fragility of a mortal life took her away from you. After her passing, your father followed her into death, since his heart couldn't bear the grief and loss it had suffered.

You grew up in a small cottage close to Lindon, the place your mother and her mother were born and raised. It was your sanctuary, your haven, and as a child, you thought Valinor must have looked exactly like your home. Even after your parents passed away you stayed at that small cottage to care for the garden your mother cherished so much.

Even though you lived your life far from others, you still had close friends you have known since childhood. One of them was Galadriel and you would refer to her as your best friend. You held her dear in your heart and even though you hadn't seen each other for centuries, you regularly wrote letters to each other. You would usually write about how your garden is growing and that the birds are nesting again, while Galadriel would entertain you with the adventures she had been on. (If you can call it an adventure. She is trying to hunt down orcs to find Sauron and with each letter you get from her it becomes apparent that she is slowly losing her mind. You are worried for your friend because she seems too fixated on Sauron being still alive.)

A couple of days ago you received an invitation to Lindon to celebrate Galadriel and her troop for „freeing the world of all evil“. You were happy to hear that her efforts to hunt down every orc are finally being acknowledged! And you wouldn’t be her friend if you wouldn’t tend that celebrations! So with a mix of excitement, worries and nostalgia you went on the journey towards Lindon.

When you arrived, Galadriel greeted you with open arms and a radiant smile on her face! It must have been decades the last time you have seen each other. But before you could talk about old memories and laugh about the shenanigans you did when you were children, she introduced you to Elrond, the herald of the High King. He offered to guide you around since Galadriel had business to do and while he was giving you a small history lesson that wasn’t really anticipating, he also warned you to not get too deep into the forest. For someone who doesn’t know the woods very well it is easy to get lost in them. And the last thing Elrond wants is to lose you and having Galadriel yelling at him for not paying attention. You had to promise to not go on your own and to always stay in the city. And you really wanted to keep that promise. You really did.

The days before the celebration you tried to spend as much time with Galadriel as possible. But she still had some duties she had to attend to, so she would usually leave you alone in the evening. It is your third evening here in Lindon and you already wish to be back at your small cottage. Elves aren’t a noisy folk but still it seemed like their voices were yelling at you. All the people, the talking, the faint music in the distance - you weren’t used to it, so for that moment it was just too much for you. You needed a moment of silence and since you arrived in Lindon it seemed like the trees were talking to you. You remembered the promise you’ve made and said to yourself that you would only walk for a bit - not too far off, so you can easily find a way back. Also, you have the senses of an elf, so nothing could go wrong.

With a sense of childlike wonder, you ventured off the path that was before you and headed straight into the woods. The forest with its towering trees, vibrant flowers and singing birds, mesmerized you and you have totally forgotten the words of Elrond. With each step you take, you get further away from the city but closer to the calmness of your soul.

Lost in the magic of the moment, you failed to notice the sun slowly going down and being replaced by a soft darkness.

„Beautiful isn’t it?“ Suddenly, a voice broke through the silence of the trees, dragging you back to reality. Startled, you turned to find a men standing in front of you with a gentle smile on his face. His presence was both mysterious and comforting. You have seen his face before, many years ago, but you can’t remember who he was. Maybe a friend of your father?

„Indeed. While the soil here might look like any other forest, it is made of hope and wishes from those who have walked here before us." You spoke softly while maintaining your gaze on the man in front of you.

He came a few steps closer to you with a light smile on his face. „It has been a long time since someone recognized Lindon's beauty. Too many became used to its sight and stopped wondering what miracles it might hold.“ You listened carefully to his words and nodded „But it seems you are not from Lindon. Lost, perhaps?“

„Galadriel is a friend of mine, and I am not lost. My feet tend to carry me places where my heart wants to go but my thoughts are too afraid of.“ The man before opened his mouth to share his thoughts with you but was interrupted by the voice of Galadriel who came running towards you.

„Y/N you shouldn’t be here!“ She looked at you and then made eye contact with the dark-haired elf in front of you. „I apologize! Y/N is a visitor and a friend of mine, my king.“ You nearly tripped over a root when you heard your friend address that man as „my king“. The reason his face was so familiar is because he is the High King of the Noldor, Gil-Galad.

Galadriel drags you away from him before you have a chance to speak, scolding you for being so careless. You apologized to her several times and felt that by not addressing him by his title, you had offended the king. In fact, he felt no offense at all. The thought of your conversation still lingered in his mind as he watched you and Galadriel walk away. Whenever his shoulders are unable to bear the weight of the crown, he retreats into the forest to enjoy the silence. Usually, the elves of Lindon don’t go that far into the woods so he can be on his own. But today, you were carried deeper into the woods by your own feet without a care in the world. For a while, Gil-Galad watched you admire the flowers and trees while the last light of the setting sun was reflected in your eyes. He was in awe and for the first time in his long life, he didn’t have the courage to speak. But when darkness slowly reached out, he talked to you and he was immediately enchanted by your voice and words. He always thought that he had lost his heart in the woods but it seemed that you found it. Now it is up to you if you want to claim it for yourself.

To be continued 💗

@fenharel-enaste @starlady66 (I am back, I hope it is okay I tagged you guys again! :) )

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Funfact! Eros and Psyche are my actual parents and I am their child -Danny Words: 2,182 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Would've Could've Should've' -by Taylor Swift

XXXVII: I Am So Very Extremely Extraordinarily Normal Right Now

Ara scans the crowd of mortals but no one gives her weird vibes yet, these kids look their age but they're here to enjoy the summer. Ara and her friends are here to fight a war, she envies them.

"Are you gonna tell me what you meant back in the ship or—"

Ara hushes him. "It's not safe."

Nico frowns. "Did you hear Nemesis? Or Janus?"

"No. It felt different," she says dryly. "Like it was threatening to hurt me if I didn't come along."

"Are you seeing this?" Jason points at an ice cream cart.

Nico stops and squints. "Maybe we should buy some ice cream."

Ara studies the appearance of the person Jason has spotted: a young man that reminds her of Leo if Leo were some king of wind spirit: handsome with dark curly hair and large warm-colored wings.

"He's not a returned spirit," Nico says deep in thought. "Or a creature of the Underworld."

"No. I doubt they would eat chocolate-covered ice cream bars," Jason mutters.

"So what is he?" Nico asks.

Ara has a bad feeling about him even if the guy looks harmless. He smiles before vanishing, but Jason can track his aura, so he takes the lead. Ara keeps her grip on Almighty firm and ready.

"I'm betting that's the palace," Jason points to the ruins. "Come on."

Her heart starts beating like crazy, she feels butterflies and her hands get clammy, and the symptoms do not match her usual anxiety, this feels like the kind of nerves she felt seated on the porch swing with Leo, all those months ago in camp.

"We've got to catch him," Jason prepares to fly. "Hold on." 

"But—"

The boy seizes both Nico and Ara and flies them to the other side of the tall walls where there are more tourists, none of those mortals seem to notice them.

"A little warning would be nice!" Ara hisses. "Man, you can't just pick me up like that! Where are we anyway?"

"The peristyle. This was the entrance to Diocletian's private residence." Nico turns to Jason and glares at him. "And please, I don't like being touched. Don't ever grab me again."

Jason looks at both teens, both younger and smaller than him and yet more intimidating than he's comfortable admitting. "Uh, okay. Sorry. How do you know what this place is called?"

"I've been here before," Nico responds quietly. "With my mother and Bianca. A weekend trip from Venice. I was maybe... six?"

"That was when... the 1930s?"

"'Thirty-eight or so," Nico hums. "Why do you care? Do you see that winged guy anywhere?"

"No..." Jason says, eyeing the boy intently.

Ara's used to being the bad guy in Nico's eyes, and at this point, she doesn't care about upsetting him further, so she voices what Jason is thinking. "I think it's impressive that you've retained information of such an old memory, considering all you've been through."

Jason doesn't want them to fight when he's the only one around to stop them. "I agree, can't imagine how weird that must be, coming from another time."

"No, you can't," Nico snaps. Ara clears her throat, reminding him they've made a deal. The boy relaxes a bit. "Look... I don't like talking about it. Honestly, I think Hazel has it worse. She remembers more about when she was young. She had to come back from the dead and adjust to the modern world. Me... me and Bianca, we were stuck at the Lotus Hotel. Time passed so quickly. In a weird way, that made the transition easier."

"Percy told me about that place," Jason nods. "Seventy years, but it only felt like a month?"

Nico clenches his fist. "Yeah. I'm sure Percy and Ara told you all about me."

"Yeah, and how much of a nuance you are," Ara replies sarcastically. "I'm planning to kill you as soon as you're done helping us."

"That's not funny," Jason gives her a look.

"No, it's not," Ara agrees heatedly. "It's ridiculous that he thinks we're always trying to make him look bad in front of—"

"Well, you had no problem talking shit about me to Lily."

"That's not—"

"Roman dead are everywhere here..." Nico interrupts her, walking away. "Lares. Lemures. They're watching. They're angry. We shouldn't stay here for long."

"They're looking at us?" Jason tenses, reaching for his sword and kind of glad to have a way to derail the argument.

"At everything." Nico points ahead. "That used to be a temple to Jupiter. The Christians changed it to a baptistery. The Roman ghosts don't like that. And over there... That was the mausoleum of the emperor."

"But his tomb isn't there anymore," Jason responds.

"Not for centuries," Nico agrees. "When the empire collapsed, the building was turned into a Christian cathedral."

Jason swallowed. "So if Diocletian's ghost is still around here—"

"He's probably not happy."

Jason nudges her arm. "That way. The winged guy. Where do you think those stairs lead?"

"Underground," Nico smiles coldly. "My favorite place."

As they enter the passageway, Ara thinks about stuff she hasn't thought of in ages. It could be Athena's blessing, but she's thinking about how ephemeral the world she comes from is. One day it's there, then it's just a fun tourist attraction falling to pieces.

Her dreams, none of that will go anywhere. In the end, she'll die, and all that was precious to her will become ruins. It's pointless. Even her laurel wreath, given to her as a tribute to her sacrifices, will get buried under debris at some point. Nothing matters.

"Ara?"

The girl gives a start. "Sorry, what?"

"The note," Jason tells her. "I asked if you could give it to me, I think this is a good place."

Ara draws out the note from her Octopi bag and hands it to him, he leaves it under a bust of Diocletian.

"Okay, that's done," Ara takes a deep breath, shaken by her disheartening thoughts. "Can we—"

"Hello!" Out of instinct, Jason cuts the statue's head. Ara pulls out Almighty too, finding the wind spirit they'd been following right behind them. "That wasn't very nice," he says. "I mean, what did Diocletian ever do to you?"

The statue fixes itself, and Jason glances at it before turning to the young man. "Uh—It was an accident. You startled me."

"Jason Grace, the West Wind has been called many things... Warm, gentle, life-giving, and devilishly handsome. But I have never been called startling. I leave that crass behavior to my gusty brethren in the north." The guy grins.

"The West Wind?" Nico takes a step forward. "You mean you're—"

"Favonius," Jason states. "God of the West Wind."

"You can call me by my Roman name, certainly, or Zephyros, if you're Greek. I'm not hung up about it."

"Why aren't your Greek and Roman sides in conflict, like the other gods?" Nico frowns.

"Oh, I have the occasional headache—Some mornings I'll wake up in a Greek chiton when I'm sure I went to sleep in my SPQR pajamas. But mostly the war doesn't bother me. I'm a minor god, you know—never really been much in the limelight. The to-and-fro battles among you demigods don't affect me as greatly."

Ara eyes him, his presence makes her uneasy. "And you're here to talk about...?"

"The sarcophagus of Diocletian," he answers. "This was its final resting place. The Christians moved it out of the mausoleum. Then some barbarians destroyed the coffin. I just wanted to show you that what you're looking for isn't here. My master has taken it."

Ara gets a gut reaction that makes her knees buckle. Her back hits the wall, this is far from good.

"Your master?" Jason asks in alarm. "Please tell me your master isn't Aeolus."

"That airhead? No, of course not," he laughs.

"He means Eros," Nico points out. "Cupid, in Latin."

"Very good, Nico di Angelo. I'm glad to see you again, by the way. It's been a long time."

"I've never met you," he steps back scowling.

"You've never seen me, but I've been watching you. When you came here as a small boy, and several times since. I knew eventually you would return to look upon my master's face." He turns to Ara, his smile growing. "He has kept an eye on you too, Princess of Troy."

Ara's grip tightens around her sword, and Nico is starting to look uneasy as well.

Jason looks at them. "Guys, what's he talking about?"

"I don't know. Nothing," Nico says anxiously.

"Nothing? The one you care for most... plunged into Tartarus, and still you will not allow the truth?"

"That's enough," Ara intervenes in a harsh and demanding tone. "My brother has no business keeping that scepter, we need it."

Favonius tilts his head. "You know, long before this was Diocletian's Palace, it was the gateway to my master's court, so you see, it is very much all over his business. I've dwelt here for eons, bringing those who sought love into the presence of Cupid."

"Like Psyche, Cupid's wife," Jason offers. "You carried her to his palace."

"Your favorite myth, daughter of Olympus," Favonius grins. "You know, your brother was always quite flattered. From this exact spot, I carried Psyche on the winds and brought her to the chambers of my master. In fact, that is why Diocletian built his palace here. This place has always been graced by the gentle West Wind. It is a spot of tranquility and love in a turbulent world. When Diocletian's Palace was ransacked—"

"If Eros has the scepter and you're here to let us know," Ara interrupts him again, "that means he's willing to hand it to us?"

"It is one of Cupid's many treasures, a reminder of better times. If you want it..." Favonius looks at her and Nico intently. "You must face the god of love."

"Guys, you can do this," Jason says, oblivious to why this freaks them out. "It might be embarrassing, but it's for the scepter."

"You're right," Nico attempts to look brave. "I—I'm not afraid of a love god."

Nothing in this world terrifies Ara nearly as much as love does. Real love—the one that claws at your insides and brings you to your knees—breaks, wounds, and changes you. Love destroyed Nico's youthful spirit. Love took young, gullible Ara, and ate away every bit that was sweet and tender. Nemesis has no other face but Ara's, because she can only hurt love when she hurts herself.

Favonious's gaze brightens at Nico's words. "Excellent! Would you like a snack before you go? Oh, bluster—I keep forgetting my symbol is a basket of unripe fruit. Why doesn't the spring wind get more credit? Summer has all the fun." He makes a face.

"That's okay," Nico urges him. "Just take us to Cupid."

They land on solid ground and Ara crashes against Nico, he catches her before she falls.

"Yes, mortal bodies are terribly bulky," Favonius hums when he sees their conditions. "Honestly, I don't know how you stand it, day in and day out."

Ara moves away from Nico and steadies her breathing, she doesn't know what Eros will force upon them, but she refuses to look frightened. This is the one monster she's been wanting to fight for years.

"Welcome to Salona. Capital of Dalmatia! Birthplace of Diocletian! But before that, long before that, it was the home of Cupid—Oh, he's not like that," the god says of nowhere.

Jason gives a start. "You can read my mind?"

"I don't need to," the man shrugs, playing with a bronze hoop he's been carrying the whole time. "Everyone has the wrong impression of Cupid... until they meet him. This one seems to be the only one who knows what she's about to face," he points at Ara.

Ara looks around waiting to spot Eros somewhere. Beside her Nico stumbles onto a column, the anxiety of the moment seems to be weighing on him.

"Ah... I don't blame you for being nervous, Nico di Angelo. Do you know how I ended up serving Cupid?"

"I don't serve anyone," Nico growls. "Especially not Cupid."

Favonius sighs. "I fell in love with a mortal named Hyacinthus. He was quite extraordinary."

"He...?" Jason pauses. "Oh..."

"Yes, Jason Grace." Favonius turns to him. "I fell in love with a dude. Does that shock you?"

"I guess not. So... Cupid struck you with his arrow, and you fell in love."

"Jason, be quiet." Ara is freaking out, her mouth is drying, and she knows what this god is insinuating.

The god grins. "Arae Jackson, you were an Aphrodite once, but now you're not fond of love..."

"I'd get along with him just fine if he'd leave me alone," she grumbles.

"Oh, but it isn't his fault, not really. He used his arrows on you, yes, but the arai were the ones who got carried away with you. My master has tried to help, but well, love can't fight itself!"

"Ara, what is he—"

"It doesn't matter," she responds with a fiery gaze. "It doesn't mean he isn't enjoying my pain. He's worse than our Mother."

"Perhaps," the god smirks. "But right now, he's one of the few gods willing to lighten your burden. You want to save your friends, don't you? Make up for what you can't stop from happening."

"Eros!" Ara calls out impatiently.

The air shifts and speeds up around them. Favonius sighs. "That would be my cue. Think long and hard about how you proceed. You cannot lie to Cupid. If you let your anger rule you... well, your fate will be even sadder than mine."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

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[echo-bleu]

Elladan and orange sunsets, for the writing game, please? Thank you!

Here you go! It's a short, kind of bittersweet character study about sailing to Aman.

59. Orange sunsets

The waves lap gently at the white sand beach, creating little flowing mounds of white foam. The sea reflects the bright half circle of the sun left over the horizon down to a wavy line, yellow turning to orange fading into deep purple. Misty clouds are catching the light and glowing that same bright orange colour.

Elladan absently pushes sand around with the tip of his boot, staring at the slowly setting sun. He hears Elrohir before he sees him approach out of the corner of his eye, and he shifts to make place for him on the sharp-edged rocky outcrop he’s using as a seat. Elrohir sits beside him without a word.

“How do we leave that behind?” Elladan asks after a moment of silence. The sun is no more than a sliver over the horizon now, the sky darkening into reds and purples.

“There will be sunsets in Aman,” Elrohir says.

“Not over the sea.”

“There will be sunrises, then.”

Elladan leans his head against his brother’s shoulder without responding. They’ve grown restless again, now that they can once more think past terrible grief of Arwen’s loss. For all that they had time to prepare, it still floored them both for years.

They said farewell to Legolas and Gimli on this very same shore, decades ago, along with their grandfather and most of what was left of their kin. There are very few elves remaining in Middle Earth now.

“This isn’t about the sunset, is it?” Elrohir whispers, though he doesn’t need to ask.

“I wish we could have waited a little longer,” Elladan says.

The ship leaving in the morning will be the last. After an eternity of waiting and abiding by his duty to the Valar, Círdan the Shipwright is finally sailing to Aman. There will be no one left who can build ships capable of this journey, nor mariners who know how to find the Straight Road. This is their last chance, and yet it feels to Elladan like they’re not ready.

But would they ever be? Their parents are waiting in Aman, their grandparents, all the extended family that the twins have never met. Neither of them has felt the call to make the Choice of mortality, but sailing is committing to another choice, that they can never go back on.

“How many sunsets have we seen?”

Elladan leans back a little. The sun has disappeared beyond the horizon, leaving behind a line of soft pink and orange. “Not enough. Never enough.”

“Do you think Arien ever gets tired of steering her vessel?”

Elladan huffs a laugh. It’s a question plucked straight from their childhood, when they would chase Ada around with endless ‘whys’ and ‘hows’ until he dramatically threw himself onto his bed and let them tickle him mercilessly. It feels like an eternity ago, and yet so close still. Naneth was still there, and Arwen not even born.

“This isn’t our place any more,” Elrohir murmurs, squeezing his hand.

“I know. But leaving still hurts.”

“I know.”

They’re of one mind on this. They’ve disagreed about many things over the past century, perhaps the furthest apart they’ve been from each other emotionally, but never about their love for Middle Earth. Elladan is glad to have seen it prosper again, at least, under Estel and Arwen’s reign.

“There’s nothing left for us here,” Elrohir says again, but it’s flat, rehearsed, repeated from what they’ve been told so many times.

It’s not true. There are sunsets. There’s sand and water and trees and flowers. Babies born to their little nephews and nieces. Elladan long wondered how Ada could bear to remain after the death of his brother, but he understands now. There’s a special kind of bittersweet joy to see the line of his sister and his foster brother endure.

He can’t imagine losing Elrohir, still, and this has been the source of many of their arguments, as they each grappled with the Choice that sometimes feels more like a curse.

“Maybe we’ll be able to see Arien from Aman,” he finally says. “We’ll be closer to where she sets.”

The beach has taken on shades of grey and blue in the twilight, silent and peaceful.

Elrohir holds him tighter, sighing. “Maybe we will.”

[declamationark]

“No…” All of the Bats freeze at the implication, but it was Nightwing who manages a soft, fearful, please-this-is-not-what-I-think whisper. “Danny...?”

“How.” Batman’s voice cuts through, and Danny struggled not to shift at the tone. Oh ancients, quick, think quick— “How did Daniel Fenton die?”

All of Mr. Lancer’s English classes Danny didn’t sleep through had better come through!

He lets the word hang in the silence, before a sudden pressure shifts and presses down and down on every hero in the room. Danny lets his black-green body loom, claws digging into the walls as he pulls himself closer to Batman. The man stands tall even illuminated in the intense light of his green eyes, even eye to eye with the Ghost King, even when Danny’s form surrounds him like a trap. They can hear Red Hood’s shots ring out, Nightwing’s escrema sticks crackling, and the cacophony of alarm rise but get swallowed into silence like light in a blackhole.

“You dare ask my death?” Fogs and echoes of death-bones-rattling-stepping-over-squelching-graves surround them. “Surely the Mad Magician warned you…” pearls-rolling-across-an-alley-gunshots-ringing “…not to ask a ghost’s death.” Scent-of-incense-prayers-chanting-let-the-dead-rest-undisturbed-or-face-our-wrath

“Especially mine.”

let-the-dead-rest-undisturbed-or-face-our-wrath

Danny watches as Batman, faintly, grits his teeth. It’s embarrassing really, and Danny really wants to stop everything and bury himself in a hole somewhere, but surely this will stop them from asking..?

Surely?

Right?

Right??

“Daniel,” Batman’s hand rises, Danny jerks away but aborts when… it pulls out the cowl and reveals Bruce.

Bruce.

“Daniel is a son of mine. He loves space and stars, he dreamed of becoming an astronaut before an accident prevented that but he still loved them. He was a genius who just needed the time to be able to focus on his classes, and could make gadgets out of anything. He hates toast because they’re dry and he calls his sister as often as he can. Him and Red Robin make menaces out of each other, he gets into pun contests with Nightwing, bakes with Red Hood and Agent A, goes on ‘adventures’ with Robin, and I can’t even get started on what him, Oracle, Spoiler and Black Bat do together.

“So yes, I do dare ask your death despite the faux pas and Constantine’s warnings. Because Daniel, and you, is someone we deeply care about.”

And he says this so honestly that Danny… Danny just freezes.

How is he supposed to respond to that?

How is he… just how..?

Now he feels like the worst person ever. He wants to tell them the truth, or jump out the window, or just shrivel up and let it all go away.

“Please.”

Now he just wants to cry.

The pressure recedes, Danny slumps back and the rest of the world trickles in with a silence no longer blocked but now became one of bated breath.

Batman’s cowl is back.

Danny shrinks like a child toeing at the dirt under him, like a child thinking an excuse in front of a parent.

“As I’ve said, time is not linear within my realms.” He begins, like Ghostwriter beginning a new tale, like his own father telling a story over fudge, like Clockwork’s lessons, like the Ghost King’s somber speech. “Not only that, but there are events under Time’s watch that cannot be changed. My mortal form’s death is one of them, as distant as it is to me now. But I remember still, the pain…” the portal opening with him still inside, electricity rearranging his very being, it was all so much that he couldn’t even open his mouth to scream. “It was agony lighting my whole body ablaze. I crawled as far as I could, and then arms embraced me, telling me it was going to be okay.” Sam and Tucker crying in the harsh green light, holding tight and panicking, blubbering reassurances, thinking they’re seeing Danny’s final moments.

In a way, they did.

“I awoke later, confused and seeking purpose in what-comes-after-death. I dedicated my afterlife into protecting others, firstly the family and friends I cared for. Later, a town. And much later, the ghosts I was peers with. And much, much later, bearing the title of Ghost King, the very realm that held all my citizens, everyone under my protection.

“So yes, Daniel Fenton will die and become me. Or maybe he is already buried and becoming me, saving others, and drinking in his new existence. Nonetheless, his death is one of the cornerstones of the timelines, so I’d advise not to time travel around it and other such cornerstones that I mentioned before, lest you crumble reality and invite disaster.”

For once, Danny doesn’t wait until the summoning spell dissipates. Before anyone can blink, he was already gone.

Triple Identity Crisis

Danny had a problem. If it was a big one, he couldn't tell yet but he was partially sure Clockwork was at fault for this. Or at least he wanted to blame his ghostly godparent who most likely just wanted to cause some chaos for entertainment with the pretext of helping Danny. Which was a very likely reason for why Danny had a problem right now.

As it was the former Fenton now Fenton-Wayne boy was pacing his room in the Manor trying to think what is next step should be, because as it was his 'new' family –Did new still apply if he was living with them for a little more than a year now? – knew him under three different Identities now. And to top it all off they were not aware that the three identities were all pretty much connected as one.

For one. His family, knew him as Danny, the space obsessed kid, who became a meta because of his ectobiology science obsessed parents and his teenager recklessness. A kid that was actually a genius if you gave him enough time for school and could make you anything out of a ancients be damed toaster. That was the Danny they mainly knew. The Kid they took in, let in on the family business and then chose, to the happiness of Alfred and dismay of some of his 'new' siblings, normal life over vigilante life.

Then they knew Phantom. A dead ghost hero that was helping the Justice League and Young Justice to help them deal with the aftermath of the huge fallout caused by the GIW, Guys in White or rather Ghost Investigation Ward. And while Danny didn't know he had apparently worked with nearly his entire family and that time he knew it now. Which was awkward because he had pretty much pestered one of his elder brothers about his condition until Red Hood, aka Jason, let Phantom help him. Ancient, things might get awkward if that secret is lifted. He had done a lot of things Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, Orphan and Robin had scowled him for. Thankfully they only thought of him as a dead teen hero and didn't know what a Halfa was. So they didn't make the connection, and he had yet to meet Signal, aka Duke as Phantom.

Now came the third identity, which totally did not happen by his choice. After all officially he hadn't accepted the throne yet and would only get it once he was dead dead not half dead. To bad ancient texts don't care about formalities. So when trouble hit the fan really hard the Justice League Dark had the bright Idea of getting some other worldly help. Which in other words was summoning the Ghost King. Oh boy, was it fun to learn that way that Danny could get summoned against his will. Clockwork did not give him that warning when he told him about the future of his afterlife. But best of all? Oh he doesn't get summoned as Phantom which would have made things maybe a bit easier, oh no. Life wasn't easy. He got someone's in some as a super weird black-green mass of a formless eltrich body with sharp teeth, claws and glowing green eyes with no pupils or irises. Hell Danny even scared himself when he saw his own reflection in a window and he didn't have a single idea how to change his form.

Let it be known that Danny acted then on purpose like he didn't know a single person in that room he had been summoned in right out of his bed and that he wasn't staring at his adoptive father like he needed help who interpreted his stare as the ghost king sizing him up. And Danny knows this because Dick had a good laugh about that at the dinner table with the rest of his siblings.

Now a smart person would probably come clean to his family and explain to them the three identities they knew him under and how they are connected.

To bad Danny wasn't 'smart' when it came to things like that. No in his panic and newfound awkwardness of the situation of what he had done on separate occasions with his identity as Phantom AND Ghost King, he decided to keep acting like he didn't knew them personally like the truely does. Really how hard could that be? Besides he liked the way his family threaten him now. He didn't want to get threaten differently because he was half dead, or a Ghost King. He liked that his family was treating him as plain old Danny who had an obsession with space and was their quirkily little brother with powers.

So that gave him even more incentive to keep the act up. Even if it was hard at times, especially if he got summoned out of nowhere. It would be easier if he could get a hang of the duplication power. He even had played with the thought of getting one of his ghost rogues to help but his family was perceptive. Maybe not perceptive enough to realise that all three identities were one and the same person but they would notice if Danny acted just slightly different or if Phantom was more of then usually. But somehow he still managed to keep it up.

But it was the hard way that he learned, Danny was bad at doing the 'talking' and realized that maybe Jazz was right and he was going to slip up one day causing huge misunderstandings like right now.

He stared down at Batman and Nightwing in his Ghost King form. Red Hood had his guns pulled on him, Wonder Woman and Superman looked like they where going to try to pull back Batman any second now while Nightwing, maybe at first was going to try to calm down the bat but Danny was pretty sure the eldest bat kid was now fiercely glaring at him too. He was also pretty sure the only reason he didn't see Red Robin or Robin threaten him too was because their super friends were somehow holding them back. For their own or his safety he doesn't know at the moment.

Because apparently the Bats did not fear fighting otherworldly beings to protect one of their own.

"What did you just say about Danny Fentons death?!" Batman grunted out and Danny just knew his adoptive father was glaring at him. Ancients Danny cursed his brain to mouth filter right now. As he had the collective hero scene before him staring at his Ghost King form. Would this be a good or bad moment to come completely clean or maybe he should find some kind of philosophical bullshit of 'All things death belong to him'....

[angloie]

Beach Trips and I'm Falling in Love 1/2

When Annabeth meets a strange boy on vacation, she doesn't expect for their relationship to grow much. He's... terribly sarcastic. Cocky. A not-so great match for her witty self. But after learning he visits the same beach every year she does, their strange friendship blooms into something more.

Their realtionship isn't the only thing that blooms over the yearsー that meaning a certain raven-haired boy.

genre ; childhood friends to lovers, fluff, strangers(?) to lovers, exchanging letters au, percabeth mortal au, 6.5k words.

warnings ; swearing, suggestive(?) themes.

Annabeth first falls in love with the beach at age seven during a vacation.

The airport was a little scary truth be told; new people and big security dogs. Though, the dogs are the things she likes most of the whole expirience. The plane there was much, much worseー she had never liked being so high up for so long. That's why Annabeth slept for most of it. (more like passed out.)

But now that she's woken up in a whole new setting, (that being her parent's cabin) her heart beats fastly with excitement. The unfamiliar aroma of saltwater and sand wafts into the bedroom, making her sniff deepy. The patched quilt that once layed on her is tossed to the wooden planked floors. Everything here is unfamiliar, whether it's the bedroom or the whole place itself.

Annabeth kicks her feet off the bed, rushing to the hallway. She practically bounces off the walls like a rubber ball. New, sights, new place, new people... She'll get the hang of it sooner or later.

Annabeth skids to a halt. "Can I go out?" She asks excitedly to the emptiness of the cabin, her voice echoing off the sparsely decorated walls. There's a pause. Then:

A voice pipes from somewhereー maybe the kitchen? "I dunno about that honey, we just-" Dad!

"Please! Just for a while!" Annabeth cuts him off and begs.

She can hear a sigh emit from him "Well, arlright..." There's a pause; most likely Helen shaking her head and laughing lightly. "But don't go too far! We don't know this place that well."

"Thank you!"

It only takes a second before Annabeth is already sliding her sandals on when she gets the ok to go, grabbing her sand castle building bucket and lathering on her sunscreen.

She beams brightly.

A vast blue sky, yellow sun, and glimmering sand. It's all so beautiful. Gorgeous. Alluring- though the seven year old doesn't quite understand what the new word means. She dashes somewhere, anywhere, excited to go see more. Meet more people! Collect sea shells! And it's fun. Fun with peeking under shells looking for crabs, getting her shorts wet from the water, getting tanned in the beating sun.

Annabeth loses track of time at one point or another. All she knows that the collection of shells in her bright red bucket are just so pretty, so why not collect some more?

'Don't go too far,' She can clearly recall her father's voice, 'We don't know this place all that well.'

That was maybe... three hours ago.

Now, the sun isn't hung that high in the sky. It's starting to dip beneath the ocean, red and orange staining the sky. The pale moon isn't visibleー but Annabeth knows that it might come out sooner or later.

Just a few more shells, she thinks, touge sticking from her lips as she struggles to carry the full bucket, Until I go back.

Where is 'back', anyways?

Annabeth doesn't know where she is right now. At all. Save for the patch of palm trees she had rested under for a while, far behind her.

Oh well. Right now, she tries to focus on collecting more shells. Now, where did that blue shell-

"Uh... What're you doing?"

The question comes as a shock to her, making Annabeth jolt slightly. She whips around.

To her left, there's, well... the ocean. To her right: A cluster of palm tress nestled in the sand. She does a full turn. Than another.

"What-" Annabeth starts in confusion, "Who's there?"

"Up here," The voice (slightly extageratted she might add) chides. It comes straight from the-

-The palm trees?

She comes face to face with blinking sea green eyes. Raven hair splays across the kids' forehead, hiding the tips of his eyes. The kids' legs swinging back and forth on one of the branches, palm leaves shaking slightly with him. Annabeth blinks owlishly in response.

"What're you doing up there?" Is all she can blurt out.

"Sitting," He says matter-of-factly. As if Annabeth couldn't already see that. "What are you doing?" The boy parrots, climbing down the wide trunk.

She steps back when he stands in front of her. He looks about her age, if she's correct. "Collecting shells?" Annabeth burries her sandal-clad heel in the sand. She picks up the blue sea shell she's had her eye on.

"Look, this ones-"

"That's mine!" The boy springs forward suddenly, taking the object from her hands. His eyes are wide like saucers. "You found my lucky shell!"

Annabeth falters. "A lucky shell? What's that?" She tilts her head in confusion. To be honest, that's one of the most ridiculous things that she has ever heard. Not that Annabeth would tell that to the person's face. That would be pretty rude.

When he doesn't respond from being too enveloped in the shine of the shell's blue coat, she grumbles.

"That isn't yours!" She says more loudly. It can't be, it can't! Shells don't belong to people; they're natural things! Aren't they? Plus, what even is a lucky shell?

He scoffs. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah!" Annabeth stares fully at the shell. "If it's yours, then prove it."

The boy huffs as he flips the shell over, shoving it right in her face. She has to take another step back to see it properly. More like to see the small letters properly. It's small, black, and messy, but Annabeth can make out the nearly unreadable scribbles.

PERCY . J

"You're Percy?" She looks back at him.

"Mhm!" The boyー Percyー beams. "So yeah. That's my lucky shell. I was looking for it for a while."

Her eyebrow twitches. "Oh..." Annabeth trails off, dissapointed. She wanted that shell. Dang it. "Are you sure?" He nods affirmatively, making her face droop. They both stay silent for a second, letting the sound of crashing against the shore take over.

Percy turns around. "I'm gonna go back to my cabin now."

Annabeth, as if breaking out from a trance, grabs his wrist. "Wait!" She yelps, pouting.

He turns back around quickly with a grumble. "What?

"D-do you..." She lets go of his wrist once she see's the judging look on the boy's face. "Do you know where the cabins are, by any chance?"

It's a weird question out of context, really, and Annabeth isn't sure why she asks him of all people. He probably doesn't know his way around either, not to mention that she doesn't expect him to answer.

It's comes as a surprise to her when he asks: "Which ones?"

Annabeth's lips tug upwards in a hopeful smile. "Uh..." She tries to remember where it is. "The ones with the really tall palm trees beside the shore?"

Percy pauses; his eyes look up into space as if he's looking for an answer from the gods. "Oh!" He looks over behind him, "Where there's this weird blue-roofed cabin to the right?"

"Yeah! That's The one!" She exclaims. Her face lights up with memory, thinking of the exact location.

"Oh," He looks directly at her now, "That's where I'm staying, too."

"Oh." Annabeth repeats.

"Yeah."

"Huh."

The Walk back is... Normal. They bicker back and forth, throwing subtle insults. At one point Annabeth bargains to take the blue sea shell back for three of the pink ones, but Percy refuses. She huffs.

"Where'd you get your lucky shell anyways?" Annabeth asks as her feet pads onto the slightly damp sand.

"My mom," He grins, holding it high above his head. "We found it here last year, and I just kept it! She said that it would be a nice souvenir." Percy says proudly.

She wants to ask more, prod more, but it seems like they're already at their detination. The tall palm trees. The weird blue-roofed cabin. Annabeth looks over to him, as it seems like the last time they'll ever see each other. Percy, however, looks surprised.

"You're my-" He freezes, looking back and forth at the two cabins in front of them. One is Annabeth's. And the other is...

"What?" Annabeth asks. "Something wrong?"

"You're my neighbor!?" Percy gasps, horror striking his face. He takes a disgusted shudder and steps away from the blonde.

"Don't act that disgusted!" She jokingly pushes his shoulderー with a little less than just 'jokingly' in the shove. "But this actually sucks. I don't really like you," Annabeth admits.

"Me neither!" Percy rolls his eyes. "Im going inside!"

She crosses her arms as she looks away. "Me too!"

"Goodnight!"

Annabeth doesn't know howー or whenー it happens, but their friendship blooms sometime along with way.

"Whatever!"

Scratch that. Friendship is too much of a strong word. For now, the two can settle on frenemies.

Plus, their frenemieship doesn't exactly happen umpormpted; it takes the parents to force them together. Aparently, Percy had told his mom about the whole scenario. Whispers come to talk, and there they are, sitting on the steps of Percy's cabin while the two's parents talk inside. Annabeth can hear the laughs coming from inside. It makes her seethe.

"Why'd you tell?" Is all she can mutter.

"My mom asked me where I was," Percy simply says, "So I did!"

"I had to thank you ten times because of that, and now look where we are!" Annabeth glared pointedly. "They're all buddies now. Ew."

He reels. "Shut up."

"No."

"Shut up!"

"I said no!"

The door creaks open, and they both freeze.

"Annabeth!" Frederick calls out, stepping onto the wooden deck. "Oh, it looks like you two have already bonded! How nice," He smiles, looking at the two of them who sit side to side. It looks like they had just had a deep convorsationー except not the one you'd expect. Percy's mom, who Annabeth heard her name was Sally, steps beside him with her own smile.

It's weird. This nice-looking, kind woman who is related to such a loser like Percy? Even being his mom? She can't see the resemblance.

"Aw, you two look like best buds!" Sally pats the two of them on the shoulder, warm smile etched across her face. Annabeth smilies in response, despite her thoughts: She has got to ditch Percy as soon as possible.

"Why don't you two go visit downtown?" She looks over to Percy. His scowl is wiped away once she does it, replaced with a forced grin. "It'd be nice for you two to hang out, wouldn't it?"

No, it would not, Annabeth wants to say. I dislike this dude very much.

But as her life goes, she never gets what she wants.

"Okay!" Percy smiles, standing up. He makes an attempt to leave Annabeth in the dust by walking as fast as he can, his actions being immediately noticed by her. All Sally and Frederick do is confuse it with excitement.

Downtown is a sunshiney place with colourful chalk on the shop walls that line the roadsides. There's a white marble fountain in the middle of the square, and a small grass filed where people play frisbee. Ice cream, pizza, ramen, you name it. The smells make both of their mouths water with hunger. Annabeth looks over to the hotdog stand with wantful eyes.

Percy's stomach grumbles.

"What?" He asks, embarassed, when Annabeth looks over at him. She looks away, rummaging through the pockets of her jean jacket. After pulling out a few green bills, she shuffles her feet.

"Here." Annabeth stuffs two of them in Percy's hands. "Let's go buy something."

He falters. "Wha- Thanks, but why?"

"My dad always tells me to be polite," She says formaly, head held high. "And I'm trying to do it. What? You think I actually like you? Please." Annabeth won't admit it, but she doesn't actually mean it.

Percy frowns. "Whatever."

It's bland as they eat, quietness shared between the two children. Annabeth chews dryly. Percy swallows thickly. They find a spot to sit; a colorful bench in the heart of all the comotion.

"No!" Annabeth groans when her half-eaten ice popsicle falls to the concrete ground. She pouts. "Aw, come on." The biker (the reason she accidentally let it fall) is long gone without as much of a glance.

Percy, on the other hand, eyes the red popsicle. He hasn't eaten his own yetー it being still wrapped up in it's yellow wrapper.

He offers it to her.

"Huh?" She takes it suddenly, eyes slightly shocked. Her mouth waters with hunger. "I-is this for me?" Annabeth asks. She peels the wrapper off begrudgingly, the sticky texture on her fingertips. It's blueberry flavoured. One of her favourites.

"Who else?" Percy rolls his eyes.

Annabeth scoffs. "I thought you were hungry."

"Yeah, but you seem pretty hungry too."

There's two sticks in the treat, meaning that they can split it. She does so, splitting it apart with a crack, and hands it back to him while looking away. "Here. Take this."

"Aw, you like me after all!" He nudges her, smiling widely and instantly popping it in his mouth.

"Its politeness!" Annabeth can manage for the word.

Percy isn't such a loser. And neither is she.

The stars twinkle brightly by the time they head back, cicadas and crickets back again to sing their songs. Percy looks at Annabeth while she enters her cabin. Her stares at her from his own doorway.

"Goodnight." Is all he says.

Annabeth doesn't know howー or whenー it happens, but their friendship blooms sometime along with way.

This time, Annabeth replies properly. "Goodnight."

The next week goes a lot like this: Percy comes over to her room, (Frederick and Helen has already taken a liking to him) beach ball in hand and sunscreen slathered on.

"Let's go swim!" He yanks the blanket from her half-asleep figure with a snicker.

"Leave me alone, doofus!"

She always complains, but goes with him anyways.

Some days it was Annabeth who woke him up. Some days she works up at the crack of dawn just to haul him to the beach where they swam for hours. Those days, she never complains.

But today, Percy accompanies Annabeth at the airport.

"You better write back to me," He crosses his arms and huffs as she gives a lopsided smirk. Her luggage, decorated with patches she had collected, stands at her side. Her Parents chat with Percy's with hugs exchanged and sad smiles. "Or else I'm not your friend anymore."

That's the first time Percy says she's a friend.

Despite that, she remains a steady face. Her heart is racing. "You can write?" Annabeth gasps, a fake look of shock on her face. When the boy gives her a dirty look, she chuckles. "Don't worry. I'm coming back here soon."

"When?" He asks instantly.

"Next year. Maybe longer." She replies, rocking back and forth on her heels. Her feet are replaced with her green sneakers, a change from a week of wearing nothing but sandals. There's a certain sadness lacing her tone.

"That's too long."

"I know."

They seem to be acting tough, possibly for their own sakes, but it all crumbles to the ground when they both tear up. They hug each other, tightly, as if they won't be seeing each other for an eternity. Maybe they will.

"I'll write to you everyday!" Annabeth promises, pulling away. Her eyes are puffy and her nose is running.

"You better!" Percy wipes his nose on his shirt. "And I will too!"

Annabeth can't quite keep the promise of sending letters every day, that being the reason of school and other things, but she and Percy can settle on every week.

It takes both their parents to pull them away from each other when the time finally comes.

Percy's letters always has his signature blue envelope. It's bright in her hands when she opens her mailbox a week after seeing him as she reads the front. Her name is misspelled three times, and the envelope is clumsily sealed. It's exactly what she had imagined. His mom must've written it for him, because the writing is ten times more neater. The words make her smile.

That night, she reads it again.

Annabeth sends her own letters, envelope and papers with owl prints drawn on. Like Percy, her own hand writing is messy. So she has Helen write most of it for her.

Back and forth through the four seasons. They both start to send little trinkets to the other, too: dried up flowers, favourite pens, even some of Percy's favourite candiesー blue Jolly Ranchers, but they seem to taste better when he sends it.

I seriously hate school, Percy writes in a letter one week, Everyone here sucks.

Well, not a few people, but a lot of people do. They're all rude. And suck ups. Even the teachers are like that! They all just act all better than me, just because. I don't really know why.

The next part is written in his own handwriting.

But of course, they're not! I beat them in dodgeball today, but i got a bruise on my cheek when I fell flat on my face. Nothing I can't handle!

Annabeth rolls her eyes at that, pen in hand while she reads the remians of it. She notes that there's a picture attached at the bottom with a obnoxious green paperclip. Taking it off, she stares at it.

Percy beams at her; er, the camera, a noticeable bruise square on his left cheek. A band-aid is stuck onto his forehead. Annabeth can only assume where it's from. For some reason the boy is smiling toothily. He looks exactly like he had been only a while ago, tanned skin and scrawny arms. His uncureable case of bedhead has also somehow stayed intact.

She sends her own picture: A amuture snap taken by her dad, standing in the sun at the park near her house. Her lips pull upwards into a wide, bright smile.

"Say cheese!" Frederick points the lenses to her.

Annabeth beams. "Cheeeese!" She giggles.

Percy doesn't want to admit it, but he'd spent more time than he liked staring at the picture.

Annabeth and Percy are right when they next meet again; though Annabeth likes to say that she's eight and three quarters.

The girl had arrived in the middle of the night while she was still snoring. Like last time, she had woken up in a bedー the same one as of today. Though she can't quite notice. Her body still radiates tiredness, mucsles sore and limbs unmoving.

"Annabeth!" Percy shakes the blonde awake, her hair messy hair shaking back and forth. She groans through her lips.

"Wha-" She flips over, looking at him. "Its- Percy!?" Annabeth jolts upwards, eyes wide and fully awake.

He smirks at her. "Hey." Percy stands up straight now, taking a step back. "Its been a while-"

Annabeth pulls him in for a hug. "i missed you!" She says, hugging him even more tightly. "So much!" Percy, after a second, hugs back with just as much happiness. His face burries in her shoulder.

"Me too," Percy replies, voice muffled. "So much."

It might be a long minute when they finally pull away.

"I-I was just being polite," Annabeth turns away with embarassment. "Don't think too much about it."

"Y-yeah, same."

They both know that they're lying.

After a while, it almost becomes routine. They spend a blissful week together playing on the beach. Both Percy and Annabeth cry their eyeballs out when they have to leave. The rest of the year is spent exchanging letters.

Summer of when they're twelve, Annabeth says something that makes Percy frown immediately.

"We won't be able to come back here for a while," She says, laying on the sand.

"Oh." Percy says. "That's what you always say. "So... You'll be here next year."

She sighs, looking at the waves lapping across the sandy shores. People swim happily in the cool waters, unlike them, who sit under the shade of a tall palm tree.

"...Right?" He repeats slowly, carefully, when she doesn't respond.

"No." Annabeth burries her face in her hands. "We won't be coming next year. Or the year after that."

"What!?" Percy''s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "And why not?"

"Helen, she... You know that the twins will be born soon. And my dad wants to take a break from vacations for a while." She grumbles.

"And that means-"

"We won't be coming back for a very, very long time."

Dread dawns onto Percy like a spotlight.

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Then it truly settles in.

"Oh, no."

The next night is what Percy assumes to be the last night spent with Annabeth in a few years. That sentence makes him sick to the stomach, so he avoids thinking about it.

If he stops thinking about it, will it never happen? If he somehow begs Annabeth's parents, will she come again next year? If Percy, someway, hopes hard enough, will she be here next year, and the next?

His thoughts gnaw at him like rats. Laying awake in his messy bed, chapped lips and ruffled hair.

There's really only one thing that can help him now.

"Hey." Percy manages to sneak into Annabeth's room via window. Her room is chilly. He feels like scolding her for keeping her window unlocked, but then Percy would just sound like his mom. He nudges her softly. "Wake up."

Annabeth, groggy and sleep deprived, opens one of her eyes. "Hm? Oh..." Hse tries to keep her eyes open. "Percy?"

It's a small whisper. Her mouth is dry and her limbs are sore. Annabeth's pillow is dampened; she had just cried only hours prior before she passed out fron exhaustion. Its a bleak memory that A Annabeth cringes upon. She chews her lip.

"C'mon," Percy says, "Let's go to our spot."

Annabeth doesn't put up a arguement. She knows that he wants to spend the most time together as possible, and the feeling is mutual. She feels her own sort of sadness: An icky feeling that leaves her feeling all scummy when she remembers she wont see Percy for a very long time.

So she goes with him, cotton sweater flimsy flip-flops hastily threwn on. Their footsteps make the old wood creak, but thankfully, no one wakes from the noises.

Their 'Spot' is a hill, high above the rising tides. Its where they go every year. Its where they made memories. Its a place that they can't imagine ever staying away from.

The nightly wind is gone this particular night. It only leaves comfortable silence.

"So how long will you be away for?" Percy asks, pulling his knees to his chest. Hus eyes droop down.

Annabeth fiddles with a stick she found on the grassy ground. "I don't wanna say it. Its too long."

But after she hesitates, Annabeth gives in. "...Six years."

"What?"

"Six years," She repeats, more strongly this time, "That's my estimate."

Percy's breath hitches in his throat. Six years? Six years without her?

"That's forever." Percy comes to the horrible conclusion. No, no- there must be somesort of mistake! Annabethwill be here next year, and that's that. "Are you sure?"

Annabeth nods grimly. Her eyes are screwed shut, as if she cant see it, it won't happen. If she cant see, then maybe it'll all be a bad dream.

She's just like him.

They both know its futile to do anything else. To do something, one last thing, one last visit down, one more. Its bitterly cold. Saltwater invades their senses, and to be honestー they're both exhausted. From a week of long playing in the sun. From a lot of things.

For now, each others company is enough. To know that they're there, in person, is enough. Being together is enough.

So they lay there.

Hand in hand, shoulders pressed up together. The moonlight is the only thing helping Annabeth see in the dark, while Percy grips her hand tighter. The stars above... They're bright. Tiny, miniscule, but they're bright and shining. Like yesterday. Today. And forever. He sniffs. The sky is incoming and unchanging. That's how both Percy and Annabeth want it to beー unchanging between them.

The next morning is bland. Annabeth wakes up with a large amount of dread looming over her, like a heavy cloud of muck. From the clock on her nightstand she can read 5:02 AM; a time in which Percy is most likely fast asleep.

That doesn't really matter. They're goodbyes are said, long done, and that's that. Annabeth already had a bittersweet moment with Percy. Why ruin with a tearful goodbye?

It hurts to not say one last goodbye to him.

The airport. Even at such a early time, it still hums with livelyness and people's chattering. Well, you know what they say. The airport never really does stop working. Not for anyone.

If Percy was here now, what would he say? Give a last cocky smirk and throw a snarky insult? Annabeth would just laugh it off and hug him, as per usual, as per every year. It's a shame.

her parents have already entered the airport, leaving Annabeth standing in front of the huge terminal. She lets out a sigh and clutches her luggage closer. Well. this is it for-

"Annabeth!"

Is that- No. It can't be. Annabeth grips the metal handle of her luggage harder. It makes her knuckles turn into a sickly shade of pale, resembling a sheet of paper. He's not here. He's asleep, gone, and I'm imagining things. He can't possibly be-

"Wisegirl!"

When the voice calls out again, Annabeth knows for sure that it's him.

Percy.

The boy instantly engulfs her in a hug. It's warm, soft, familiar. All the qualities Annabeth likes most about him.

Great, she's tearing up.

"Don't forget me." Percy mumbles into her shoulder. "Please don't forget me." His voice is watery and wavering: He's crying. She can feel is tears dampening her sweater-clad shoulder, and all she can think is how she's doing the same.

"Never," Annabeth says, squeezing her eyes shut. "I promise."

Percy wants to say so much. How he woke up through his tiredness. How he biked here, all one hour of it, to find her, and how he couldn't sleep because he needed to hear her voice. Childish or immature as it be, its true.

He pulls away slowly and rummages through his pockets as he sniffs. "Here. Take this."

Annabeth's eyes widen. "You're" She grips it, mouth going dry. His shell, still blue as ever and pristine, tilts in her hands. "You're gonna give me this?"

She knows it's his favourite thing in the world, save for blue cookies and his small whale plushie. He never leaves it unattended, never dirties it, either. Annabeth knows that Percy never lends it to anyone, and keeps it like it's his life's worth. So why is he giving it to her? His eyes are teary and foggy as tears spill from his eyes, but she can't see any regret or remorse on his face. That's means he's giving it to her with no qualms, whatsoeverー But why?

"You better make sure to return it!" Percy sniffles again, wiping his runny nose on his shirt. "I'll be waiting!"

"I will."

Annabeth thinks that's the most she's cried ever.

The years pass like clockwork, because really, it is.

It's happens like any other year. She goes to school, gets good grades and live like any other day. She sends letters to Percy consistently. They're all sent with souvenirs, trinkets, little notes and scraps. It helps in a theraputic way.

Annabeth doesn't really blame her parents for taking a break. She tries to understand. And it's hard. The twins are lovely. Lovely as newborns can get, at least, they're smiley and bright. Matthew and Bobby, that's their names. They don't cry much. Annabeth likes that. They throw food at her sometimes. Annabeth doesn't like that.

Summer thirteen passes slowly. She tries to pass it with friends, but none of them can really compare to Percy.

Summer fourteen Annabeth enters Highschool. She keeps Percy's lucky she'll on her bedside table, stacked upon a cluster of books. She spends that summer inside, reading books about architecture. They can distact her from the dread of missing him.

Summer fifteen and she sends a package to Percy. There's the usual letter, one of her favourite books, and notes for the new math curriculum that they both happen to be on. She knows that he seriously hates reading, but Annabeth doesn't really expect him to read it.

(He spends all night reading it.)

Summer sixteen, and Percy sends the recipe for his mom's famous blue cookies. That makes her smile uncontrollably. Percy never trusts anyone that much to send one of his favorite recipes; much less the one for his most prized blue cookies. Annabeth is sure to send a recipe of her own for her favorite apple pie.

(Percy can't really stop eating it. Somehow, it reminds him if her.)

Summer seventeen Annabeth makes new friends. They make her mind forget about Percy more, but when she's laying awake at night, she can't really stop thinking about him. He's grown. His smile is as warm and bright as ever, and his hair which was once ruffles in a messy way had become endearing. Annabeth thinks it suits him.

She sends her own pictures. Annabeth thinks that she hasn't grown very much compared to Percy, but she's grown in height. Her hair reaches a length's past her shoulders, and her curls have become more tameable. It's easier to style.

Percy can write much better now, too. His writing is somewhat readable. His letters are still cocky and sarcastic as ever, but his words can clearly shows that he misses her. Annabeth does too. He's learned how to surf. Percy promises to teach her when she visits again. Not to mention he got a dogー a huge, massive ball of black fluff named Mrs. O'Leary. Apparently she's a rescue from one of his neighbours. Annabeth has her own dog as well; a lanky Doberman that she calls cerberus. She swears to introduce him to Mrs. o'leary.

(He looks forward to that.)

Still summer seventeen, and Annabeth learns that Percy has gotten close with someone.

She's supportive of him, of course, but Annabeth can't really say that when she frowns at the news. Rachel. That's her name. Rich, red-haired and pretty, she's probably a good fit for him. Annabeth sees her in the pictures he sends. Beach trips together, days spent in each other's company. She tries as hard as she can not to say something about it.

Rachel is pretty. Rachel is kind. She donates to homeless shelters and fundraises to help the rainforest, Rachel is the daughter of some rich buisness owner.

Rachel is everything Annabeth is not.

Laying on her bed that night, she comes to a horrible realization.

Those feelings of jealousy... They’re more than that, aren't they? It's more, so much more, it's the feeling of desire. Wanting. Because after years, Annabeth learns that she likes Percy.

And Percy likes someone else.

Summer eighteen and Annabeth is on the plane to her family’s cabin. She's eighteen years old now; it's been six years.

Six, long years of waiting, six summers spent wasting, six years of exchanging letters. Six years of waiting and longing.

Her leg bounces up and down erratically as the plane nears it's destination, the window passing blinding white clouds. The airport was just as busy as Annabeth remembered. The sights, smells, sounds... It's been a while since she's experienced this. It makes her mind race.

"You excited?" Helen gives a small smile towards her. The twins snore loudly beside her. "I bet you are. It's been a while since you've seen him, right?"

"Mhm," Annabeth hums, grinning to herself. Somehow, she already knows who Helen is talking about. "Six years."

"Hm?"

"Its been six years," She says, leaning her cheek on her palm. "Six years since I've last seen him."

Percy.

Annabeth is eighteen when she falls in love with the beach for the second time.

The cabin looks just like it was before. Dark brown wood, potted plants littering the windowsills, metal and glass chimes hanging from the ceilings. Nostalgia runs through Annabeth's mind.

So, with her hair flying behind her and parents chuckling behind her from the car, she bursts open the doors with laboured breaths. The humidity is at a level so high it gets Annabeth's hair all frizzyー but she doesn't mind one bit. She takes a deep inhale.

Fresh saltwater. Driftwood, the sweet smell of vanilla, the alluring scent of coral.

"Can I go out?" Annabeth practically jumps the whole way to the living room, parents unpacking. She runs her hands on the walls; she knows the place like a book from all the previous years spent there.

Annabeth's heart drops when they shake their heads. "Sorry, sweetie," Frederick sighs. "Could you wait until dinner? The twins would probably follow you everywhere; they're pretty energetic right now."

She frowns. "But-" Annabeth exhales, and her shoulders slump. "...Alright."

As the blonde walks back to her room, she can't help but think: Where even is Percy? At the beach? In his room? It's been a while since she last sent a letterー but Annabeth thought he would be expecting her. Maybe not. Maybe, he's busy spending time with Rachel. Not that she really blames him.

So she lays there, staring at the white ceiling. It's smooth unlike her popcorned ceilings back at her house. Annabeth can imagine what Percy's doing right now; most likely teaching Rachel how to surf, like he wrote in his most previous letter. That was... A month ago, right? She's learned how to surf, too.

Annabeth eats dinner with a small frown on her face.

What's the point? She thinks to herself, shoving the plate of noodles in her mouth. She slurps it up. What's the point in seeing him, anyways?

Well, let's see. One: I haven't seen him in six years. That's true. Annabeth's heart aches to see him again, but she can't really bring up the courage to see him.

Two: I have to return his lucky sea shell. She thinks of the shell that stands on her bedside table. It's coat is blue and chipped at that point from all the years.

Three: I really, really want to see him again. Annabeth agrees to herself to that, but there's something lacking. Something that's stopping her from seeing him.

What if Percy doesn't want to see me?

It's stupid, sure, after everything they went through, why would Percy not want to see her? The airport visit from six years ago was enough to proove her wrong, but... The doubt still lingers on Annabeth's head. Rachel was probably fine. She doesn't even know the girl for goodness sakeー why would Annabeth ever hate her in any way?

So, stepping out of the cabin with a determined look, she starts off to find Percy.

The cabin next to hers has no occupants. There's people living in there of course, the light inside gives it away. But there's none inside.

Okay. Next, the beach. The sure is setting, so only a few last minute stragglers are there. The waves are just as beautiful as Annabeth imagined. She chews on her bottom lip, where could he be? Downtown. The ice cream shop. Even the boardwalk. Annabeth has no luck in finding the raven haired boy.

Well, desperate times call for desperate measures.

She walks up to their spot.

It's like a walk to memory lane, really, the trees stretch even farther and the grass is way outgrown. The old log that she and Percy used to sit on is now covered with moss and growing mushrooms. Annabeth smiles to herself. It's been a while.

Have those bags always been here? She thinks to herself. She eyes the bags: Two of them, one black and one a vibrant splash of colors. They must belong to someone else.

When Annabeth sees a familiar figure, she practically beams, because holy shit, it's Percy!

His shoulders are broader than she remembered. His hair is gorgeously fluffy and volumous, and his voice is more richer than Annabeth thought. But, wait- why is he talking to himself?

"Seaweed br-"

That when Annabeth sees her.

A head of red hair sits beside him, laughing to spend joke of his. Or at least that's what Annabeth thinks is happening. Oh, her face falls. That must be Rachel. She fit the description she has had in her head for a while now: Pretty. Laid back.

Annabeth thought their spot was a spot for themー a spot where their memories were made, a spot where Percy introduced her to, a spot where only Annabeth knew.

Her arm slowly drops to her side when Rachel pecks him on the cheek.

Walking back, she thinks she's a fool. How could she be the only person who knew of that place? Such an idiot! Of course Percy would find someone else, like someone else, kiss someone else. Annabeth can't blame him. She can't blame Rachel, or anyone else, because how could she?

That night, Annabeth can't fall asleep.

(Percy can't either, because he can't stop thinking about Annabeth and how he thinks he saw her back there.)

[thenovelartist]

Burned Beginnings, chapter 2

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4. Best Friends

In the month or so he’d been working there, Adrien hadn’t worked much with Marinette. Tonight, though, he’d be running a night shift with her.

“Adrien, I would never say anything bad about my daughter,” Mr. Dupain said with a sympathetic expression. “But if she gives you trouble, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” Adrien dismissed. “I’m pretty sure I know why she acts like that.”

“What was that?” Mrs. Cheng asked, entering the kitchen.

Mr. Dupain looked confused for a moment, and Adrien thought it wouldn’t hurt to explain everything to them. This was their employee and daughter, after all. If Adrien were in their shoes, he’d like to be in the know. “A childhood friend of mine is Chloe Bourgeois.”

In an instant, Mrs. Cheng nodded as though she understood. “I already see where this is going.”

“I don’t know all the details, but they were seemingly at each other’s throats often. And from what I can guess, one of those topics that set them off was apparently me. But that’s only my best guess.”

“As much sense as that makes,” Mrs. Cheng said, “that’s still no excuse for Marinette to act that way around you, and she knows it. If it continues, Adrien, I’ll have a talk with her.”

“Don’t,” Adrien cut in. “Really, she’s free to think that way. I don’t hold it against her.”

The two owners exchanged a look Adrien couldn’t quite decipher before turning back to him.

“Well,” Mr. Dupain said, a slightly forced smile on his face. “Maybe tonight will give you two a chance to break the ice.”

Adrien shrugged. “Only if she’s open to it. But don’t bug her about it, okay?”

“Sorry, Adrien, but I can’t keep that promise,” Mrs. Cheng spoke up. “Because no matter what you think of each other, this is a bakery that needs to function at its best. And it won’t be if she refuses to cooperate with you.”

“We won’t tell her what to think,” Mr. Dupain said. “But my wife is right: Marinette can be a bit stubborn at times. I feel like you two are somehow similar in that way.”

Adrien snorted. Him? Similar to Marinette? He doubted it. She had way more fire in her than he did, and he was not going to press his luck and get burned by it.

Still, upon seeing the earnestly worried looks on his bosses’ faces, he wouldn’t press the issue. “I’ll try breaking the ice, but I’m not forcing her.”

Mr. Dupain sighed, but his smile widened. “You’re a really good kid, Adrien. I knew I made the right choice in hiring you. Thanks for being such a good sport.”

Adrien wouldn’t deny how nice it felt to be complimented like that. “Thank you, sir.”

…

Adrien fully expected a mouth full of sarcasm and sass that night. Shockingly, it never came.

“So,” she said, holding the special-order sheet out for him to see. “I’ll run you through how orders like these are taken, and then I’ll show you how to plan for them and complete them, okay?”

He didn’t fully trust that she’d just dropped the cold shoulder overnight for no reason. Therefore, he wouldn’t push his luck. “Understood.”

Throughout the whole process, Marinette didn’t take it slow like Mr. Dupain would have. She ran through things quickly and efficiently, yet she paused frequently to ensure he understood.

“Okay,” she said, placing the special-order sheet off to the side once she’d finished explaining everything. “Then I’ll start on this portion of the order if you want to do this one?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Okay, I’ll let you get started. Tell me if you need anything or have any questions.”

Eventually, the two of them fell quiet as they each worked on their part of the order. Adrien could tell Marinette still held a cold shoulder towards him, but it wasn’t so bad as before. And after a while, he decided that maybe he did want to push his luck tonight.

“You hate me.”

Marinette froze, glancing up at him for barely a second before returning to her work. “What makes you say that?”

“You’re really cold towards me.”

She didn’t respond.

He saved her the trouble. “I know it has something to do with Chloe.”

Again, she spared him another glance. “Won’t deny that.”

Adrien paused in his work as he thought about the words he wanted to say next. “I don’t want to force it out of you, but I kinda want to know why.”

“Why does it matter?”

“Because we’re co-workers and your parents are nice, so I thought we could at least get to a place we could cooperate well for the sake of the bakery.”

Marinette took her time thinking about it, turning on the giant mixer she stood by. “Yeah, my parents don’t deserve it,” she eventually whispered before turning to him. “And I know that.”

Adrien dropped the dough in his hands onto the counter. “How about this,” he said, leaning against the counter. “I’ll give you the next 30 seconds to spill any and all your beef with me. I won’t take it personally, and I won’t hold it against you. From what I understand, you and Chloe were practically mortal enemies, and so I can imagine me having been close to her doesn’t endear me to you.”

She huffed, bemused. “Well, you’re right about that.”

“So you can start whenever you’re ready.”

Marinette fidgeted for a moment before glancing into the mixer again to see how the dough was coming along. With a sigh, she turned towards Adrien and slapped her hands against the counter.

The fire in her eyes almost made Adrien regret this decision. Almost. He was both terrified yet turned on.

“Chloe was my school bully for almost every single year of my schooling,” she began, not bothering to hide the bite in her tone. “It is her fault I got my first suspension, and in some way, she was the reason for every one that came after. And then, because of all ofthat drama, I was barred from every single university I thought about attending. And it sucks when the rug is ripped out from under you like that. So forgive me if I’m not so willing to open up to the guy Chloe practically worshiped like a Greek god, because the last person I wanted to have started working here, excluding Chloe, was her lover.”

Adrien froze, listening to those words. They took way too long to register in his head, and when they did, he felt his stomach twist into knots. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he cried, backing up and waving his hands before him. “Who are you calling Chloe’s lover?”

“You, of course. Unless you want to deny that.”

“The hell? Yes I want to deny that!” Adrien cried. “No. No no no! What the hell would give you that impression?”

She quirked a challenging brow. “Do you knowhow she talked about you?”

“No, but if the conversation is going to go the way I think it is, I really don’t want to.”

“She constantly was talking about how strong you were,” Marinette said, clearly ignoring him on purpose if that grin and her mocking tone was anything to go by. “As if she had personally run her hands over your body.”

Adrien felt like he was going to be sick.

“And then she talked a couple times about your bedroom and how she was adamant your silk sheets were the most luxurious of any she’s ever known. Oh, and before my thirty seconds are up, I’m going to toss in that she constantly bragged about how you were on her side, and how when you told all your friends about me, they all agreed I was the Queen Bitch of Paris. There, I’m done.”

Unable to do much more than hang his red face in shame, he took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts before meeting her gaze again. When he did, the bitter smile on her face proved how much Chloe had hurt her, and used his name to do it. “I am no longer surprised you hate me.”

She just hummed.

“Marinette, I swear on my dearly departed mother’s grave that never happened.”

Marinette looked mildly surprised at his words.

“Really,” he continued. “Chloe and I were childhood friends because our mothers were friends. I never saw her as anything more than that, and I never did… that with her. Never even consideredit. No. Just…” He grimaced at the thought. “No. And secondly, yes, I did hear a lot of stories about you from Chloe. That you were a ‘royal bitch’ and you harassed her and spread all sorts of nasty rumors about her around school.”

Marinette shrugged dismissively. “Well, in the spirit of being honest with you, I won’t deny any of that.”

Adrien paused for a second, surprised at her easy admission, before shaking his head. “And in the spirit of getting along with my co-worker, I’ll let that go. The point I was making was that while I heard all the stories about you, I never told anyone. I don’t really even have anyone I’d consider a friend. Co-worker or acquaintances, sure, but no friends. No, actually…” He held up a finger in realization. “I kinda lied there. I might, in conversation, have complained about Chloe’s constant complaining about some girl harassing her. I’m pretty sure that ended in my co-worker hoping you’d give her more hell because Chloe deserved it.”

Marinette snorted, the corner of her lips quirking up while a mischievous light in her eye twinkled.

Adrien had to take a moment to recollect his thoughts, pulling them away from ‘cute spunky bakery girl’ back to the current topic. “So, uh… there you go. Truth all out on the table. And I’ll work hard to prove that to you if you give me a chance.”

A short silence slipped between the two of them, one only broken by Marinette walking back over to the giant mixer to check on the dough again. She turned it off and pulled the bowl over to the counter. “Well,” she finally said, heaving the giant doughball onto the counter. “I’ll consider your request if you answer one more thing for me.”

A weight he hadn’t realized was on his chest lifted with those words. “Yeah, sure.”

She grabbed a bench scrapper and scale to begin portioning out dough balls. “Why does a model want to work in a bakery, of all places?”

“Normalcy.”

“Normalcy?”

“A life of glitz, glamor, money, fame, and girls throwing themselves at you gets old after a while, especially if you never wanted it in the first place.”

Marinette regarded him with surprise for a moment before she turned back to weighing the dough.

“I wanted out,” Adrien continued. “So, I rebelled a bit until my dad kicked me out. With no obligation to live that life anymore, I get to figure things out on my own. I get to be a regular eighteen-year-old who’s figuring out what he wants to actually do with his life and hold down a real job in the meantime.”

Marinette paused, listening to his words. “So, that’s what this job to you? Real-life experience?”

“Yeah.”

Her lips pursed in thought, but slowly, she nodded. “I can respect that.”

Adrien bit his lip. “So, um… can we call this a truce of sorts? A mutual understanding, maybe? For the sake of working together and your parents’ bakery running smoothly?”

She quirked a brow up at him before sighing. “I don’t think we’ll ever be best friends,” she began. She then extended a hand towards him. “But I guess I can stop acting like a ‘royal bitch’ towards you.”

With a smile, Adrien took her extended hand and shook it. “For the record, I never held it against you, ice princess.”

She scoffed, her lips quirking up to the side. Again, Adrien felt his chest tighten at the sight. “Don’t call me that, or I’ll go right back to ‘royal bitch’.”

He chuckled, a warmth easing though him. “Whatever you say.”

5. Jagged Stone

Help me

Those were the words Adrien mouthed at her as she passed the bakery kitchen.

It was her day off, and when she’d come back home after going out for the day, she’d passed a long line of customers who wanted their baked goods and wanted them now. Her maman looked to be handling things well enough, but then again, Maman was completely unflappable.

Adrien, on the other hand, looked to be drowning in work.

Day off she mouthed back with a wink.

That’s when Adrien had the audacity to look appalled, pantomiming being stabbed through the heart and slowly sinking behind the tall bakery tables.

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. What. A. Weirdo.

Popping back up from behind the table, he shot her a grin that looked a little tired before finishing assembling a tray of goods as quickly as he could.

Deciding she’d take pity on him, Marinette grabbed an apron and tied it around her waist. “I will only assist in icing and bringing goods to the front.”

Adrien’s grin brightened. “Your assistance in any capacity is something I will gladly take.”

After turning off the faucet and shaking excess water from her hands into the sink, Marinette dried her now clean hands and went to work assembling the large pile of macrons. After that large bakery order they had to work together on last month, Marinette had been forced to swallow her pride and eat crow. Adrien wasn’t at all the model Chloe had used to brag about. Instead, Marinette was surprised to find he was actually down-to-earth. While his looks screamed ‘rebel’, he wasn’t a scoundrel. He took care to do his job to the best of his ability and was quick to pick up any new tricks or skills he was taught. For that, Marinette could admit her past prejudice and say he was a good coworker.

He also seemed to open up a bit more to her, as well, slowly exposing the fact he had a decent sense of humor.

No wonder he and her father got along well.

An hour later, the rush had finally died down. Marinette had bounced back and forth between the kitchen and the front, both retrieving pastries and boxing them. Currently, she stood in the kitchen appraising the situation.

“Wow,” she said, taking in the massive amounts of icing, crumbs, and white dust—who knew if it was flour or icing sugar—that covered the kitchen. “This… is a train wreck.”

Adrien simply nodded.

“Well, good luck with that!” Marinette patted his shoulder with a wicked smile before spinning on her heel and heading out of the kitchen.

“Whoa, hey! You’re not gonna help me?”

She looked over her shoulder, unable to keep her grin from widening. “You’re lucky I helped you in the first place.”

Adrien tossed his head back and heaved a sigh. “Fiiine.”

She couldn’t help but laugh as she took off her apron and replaced it on the hook by the kitchen door.

“Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for the help,” Adrien said, giving her an earnest smile. “Seriously, you saved my butt.”

If it were her parents, she’d just shrug it off. But this was Adrien, and she found that she quite liked having the upper hand on him. “Maybe I should have told you before,” she began, not bothering to temper her teasing tone as she slowly stepped up to him, “but I don’t do favors for free.”

His grin grew, and his eyes got a little sparkly. He was onto her game, but he looked like he was going to play along. “Yeah? So I’m in your debt now?”

“Mm-hmm,” she said with a smile. “And don’t worry, I’ll be sure to abuse the privilege.”

Adrien laughed. “I’m sure you will, you little minx.”

She shot him a wink before spinning on her heel again and strutting out of the kitchen.

“One last thing before you go?”

She turned towards him, eyebrow raised. “Yeah?”

He pointed at her t-shirt, one she got from the Jagged Stone concert she went to last year with her girl friends. “You have great taste in music.”

She grinned. “Thank you,” she said with a wink. “I’m classy that way.”

6. Anime

“I’m sorry, repeat that for me?”

Adrien chuckled. “What? Don’t you know anime has ridiculous titles at times?”

Marinette gave him a look as though he’d grown a second head before shaking hers. “You know what, no. I don’t even know why I’m surprised. You…” She pointed her finger at him while trying to give him a look, but Adrien could see the hint of a smile on her lips. “You are weird,and I know this about you. Of course, you watch anime over regular tv.”

Adrien scoffed. “Please, regular tv is trash. Anime is an art form.”

Marinette rolled her eyes at him, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Ever since the night they had to work together to complete a large special order, Marinette had defrosted her icy attitude towards him. While he was thankful because it helped to be on good terms with coworkers, he was rather happy to get to know the girl underneath the cold exterior. She was a natural spitfire, a total tease, and had a great smile he’d do anything to bring out of her. She wasn’t just a pretty face, though he couldn’t deny that he quite liked that, too. If this persisted, Adrien thought she might actually become trouble for his heart.

And times like this made him believe he might just be okay with that.

“You are a regular nerd, aren’t you?” Marinette sassed, grinning as she easily piped the icing on a cupcake.

“Total otaku.”

“I have no clue what that is.”

“If you watched anime, you would know.”

“I’m good.”

Adrien snorted, going back to his own work piping macron cookies onto a baking sheet. After four months of working here, he’d finally gotten the hang of piping perfectly circular and even cookies.

“Honestly,” Marinette continued, not letting up her sass. “I feel like a pair of glasses would suit you better than the rebel look. Pins you for the nerd you are.”

“Aww, but princess—”

“I thought we were over the nickname,” she deadpanned, shooting him an unamused glare.

His grin widened. “Not a chance—there is a rule in anime that guys with glasses are considered hotter.”

Marinette huffed, amused. “Really?”

“Totally.”

“You made it up.”

“No, but it is unofficial.”

“Knew it.”

“But the point stands that you would not be able to handle me in my glasses.”

At that, Marinette raised a brow at him. “You wear glasses?”

He nodded. “I wear contacts here because I don’t want them to fog up in the fridge or steam by the oven or get covered in flour. The point of glasses is to be able to see clearly, and therefore, the purpose is rendered mute if they get dirty in a kitchen.”

“Fair point,” Marinette relented, going back to her cupcakes. “Still don’t believe that glasses automatically make guys hotter. Isn’t it supposed to be the opposite? You whip off the nerd specs and bam!Instant hunk?”

“Tell you what,” Adrien said, putting town the piping bag in his hands so he could fully direct his attention on her. He was finished with the cookies, anyway. “I will come into work one day wearing my glasses, and if you take even a second to stare at me in surprise, you have to watch an anime of my choice.���

Marinette regarded him with a flat look for a minute before that smirk of hers came back. “You’re really working the anime angle, aren’t you?”

“Shamelessly,” he admitted, leaning ever closer to her. “So, what do you say?”

Marinette grinned, eyes gleaming with defiance. “Bring it on. Glasses or no, you’re not getting any reaction out of me.”

Knowing her, that would likely be the case, but deep down, Adrien did hold a little hope that she’d be surprised. He thought he was over wanting attention, but apparently, when it came to her, all rules went out the window.

And at the moment, he found himself perfectly fine with that.

[rose7420]

Use Your Words

A request from @lokiismyhubby

Summary: Loki feels down and Y/N decides she wants to help him out

Warnings: Selectively Mute reader

Y/N sat with Peter Parker, listening to him as he rambled on about his homework and complained about how much he had to do of it, instead of just doing it. Even though Peter could be kind of annoying sometimes Y/N loved to be near him. He was the only human so far that had proved to be worthy of her trust. He was a gentle giant and showed her tenderness and care when he provided her company. He even went out of his way to gather her food and certain supplies to help her out, erasing the risk of her being caught by another human.

Y/N knew Peter didn’t have to do all of these things but he still chose to and that made y/n feel good because she knew someone out there cared for her wellbeing. Out of impulse, she stepped up to Peter’s wrist that held a pencil and hugged it.

“Woah there… You good pipsqueak?” Peter said, raising an eyebrow in curiousness. Y/N nodded her head wordlessly. She didn’t like to speak much.

She had lost her parents at a young age and her kind called borrowers lived in small, distanced packs, making it hard to find people to share a life with. After she had lost everyone close to her there had been no reason to speak and communicate with others. Peter was the first person she had talked to in five years. When she first spoke to him her voice had been rough and she didn’t want to admit she had lost the confidence to actually speak. All of her memory of language had practically withered away in her head, making it hard to remember how to pronounce some words. Peter had only questioned once why she didn’t speak to him. He was worried she was frightened of him but she assured him that wasn’t the problem with an exaggeration of her hands and a written note. Peter hadn’t questioned her after that and only spoke to her with no expectations of her responding.

She released his wrist and smiled brightly up towards him.

“I’m glad you’re feeling good today. But I think something has made Loki feel bad these last weeks. Would you know why?” Peter asks, resting his head upon his hand to see her better. Y/n shakes her head.

“Well if you have any free time, you mind using those amazing spy skills for me? I’m worried about him, he won’t talk to me?” He patted her head with a finger.

Y/n nodded, anxious to see Loki for the first time. She had never come across the god since her arrival at the tower.

Y/n sat on a shelf in Loki’s room watching his daily life. He led a rather peaceful but boring routine. Reading late at night and early in the morning, practicing his impressive magical abilities, and occasionally eating a meal. Y/n was about to stand and leave, ready to tell Peter that he was probably sad because he did nothing during the day when the door opened. In Thor walked, one of the biggest people she’d ever seen, and that was saying something.

“Brother, why don’t you just leave this room? There are plenty of things to do.” Thor said to Loki.

“Leave so I can hear you all blabber on of how wretched of a person I am? My life may be spent in solitude but perhaps I like it like that.” Loki retorted snarkily.

“If you stay in here, your chances of being liked will increase no more. “Thor said stepping towards Loki.

“So you admit it? The mortals of this tower do not want me here.” Loki said, anger lashing his voice.

“I don’t blame them, brother. You’re wasting away in this existence you call a life. Mother would be disappointed.” Thor said, his voice going soft to lessen the blow at the end.

Despite Thor’s gentility, Loki still became furious.

“Get out,” Loki said with a scary calm. Thor respected his wishes and walked out. But Y/n stayed, thinking she had just found the reason for Loki’s sadness.

As the days went by Y/n hid well and listened to the others’ Avengers conversations. Most of them as she’d thought spoke terribly of Loki. Remorse became heavy in her heart and she vowed to make Loki feel better. Since Peter had been there for her she figured it was time for her to be there for someone else.

She crept onto Peter’s desk and broke the lead off the pencil quietly. She checked to make sure he was still asleep and began writing.

Dear Mr. Loki,

I am sorry you feel so bad. I know people can be mean but I think your feelings are valid. If it was me I wouldn’t want to hear about what people think of me either. But I think you are very kind and generous. I hope this helps.

-Your friend

Y/n set out the next night to give the letter to Loki. Her handwritten letter was strapped to her back, easily accessible to her reach. The floor was mute under her imperceptible footsteps. She climbed the towering, unstable wall of Loki’s silk, black bedsheets which was a hard task as the sheets slipped from her grip a couple of times sending her heart to beat out of her chest. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, she reached the top. Her breaths were heavy and she struggled to keep them quiet. Approaching Loki’s open, pale outstretched palm she retrieved the letter from behind her back. The paper was bigger than her upper half when folded together and heavy enough that she couldn’t place it upon his palm using only her arms to boost it to the surface. Which meant that she would have to climb into his hand.

Oh, how she wanted to turn around, climb down the bed and run to her safe, warm home inside the wall.

But she refused to give up when she had come so far.

And he needed someone to be there for him.

She delicately climbed into his palm, with the letter strapped to her back carefully placing her feet in non-ticklish places. One twitch of his hand would send her flying onto the covers, or worse off the bed itself. She shivered at the thought. Finding a good place to leave the letter she bends down.

Then a powerful, immense weight falls upon her sending darkness to coat her vision. She falls to her butt as vertigo hits.

“What are you doing?” A booming voice demands.

She trembles in fear, covering her head with her arms. I knew I should’ve just gone away. What will he do?

“I asked you a question?” The voice is angry. A light is turned on allowing her sight of her captor.

She dares to look up and is met with the rage of Loki Laufeyson. She shakes her head in reluctance to answer.

“What is this?” He roughly nudges her away from the note she holds in her arms causing her to fall onto her back with a squeak of fear. She holds onto the slip of paper for security but his strength overpowers hers greatly. His eyes squint in concentration as he reads the small handwriting.

“Did you write this?” He asks returning his focus upon her trembling form.

She nods hesitantly.

“Truly?”

Another nod.

“You don’t speak much do you Little Miss, do you?” He asks with a hint of a smile, his tone is much softer.

She shakes her head. Y/n clutches her arms across her chest, scooting back further from his face.

“Did I frighten you?” Loki suggests his eyes gentle voice guilty.

She nods, her eyes wide studying him for any ill intent.

“I apologize. I have a few trust issues. “

She says nothing and only stares at him with distrust.

“How did you know what the others were saying about me?” Loki asks raising her to meet his eyes. Even through her apprehension, she notices how beautiful they are. How his irises cannot seem to decide on a cool blue or a rainforest green.

She doesn’t try to answer his question, from the fear of speaking and the trepidation of angering him with her words.

“Okay, well I will wait until you’re ready to tell me. For now, I’ll let you go.” He stands up from his bed and releases her onto the hardwood floor. He stays crouched even as she slips off his long fingers. Taking a few cautious steps away from his looming form she is frankly surprised he is letting her go. She supposes that is a good sign. Maybe she will come back to him despite her previous scare.

“Don’t be a stranger.” His voice calls out almost wistfully.

Next week…

Y/n finds herself in a vent located in Loki’s room. This past week she’d felt guilty for leaving Loki in such a dreadful, sad state. So her final decision was to come back. She watched as Loki sat reading in an armchair on the other side of the room. He looked regal and imposing from far away, with his head bent down in concentration, long legs spread outward and she could only imagine how intimidating he must look up close. Her legs shook as she dropped to the floor below with no sound to alert Loki of her presence. Scurrying to his chair she stopped by his black boot. Even this simple apparel dwarfed her, able to serve as her sufficient sleeping quarters.

If you want to turn back now’s the time. She said to herself.

The enormous, unaware boot shifted closer to her and she let out a squeak, scampering back.

“It’s you again Little Miss.”

She craned her head all the way up and saw Loki staring down at her. His black hair hung down around his face. His hand reached for her and pinched her waist carefully, lifting her up to bring in front of his eyes. The pressure on her waist was gentle but still made her fearful.

She kicked her legs in search of a non-reachable floor. Loki noticed her apprehension and set her down in his other palm.

“Is that better?” He ducked his head down to meet her eye.

She nodded.

“Still not talking are we?” He asked.

She shook her head.

“Well, I suppose that’ll be fine. Would you care for me to read to you?” He asked kindly.

His offer was so kind and thoughtful. One that didn’t seem right for a simple nod in answer.

“Y-yes p-please.” She stumbled.

Loki grinned and set her upon his shoulder. She wasn’t sure what to do so high up and close to his person. Thankfully Loki caught onto this with his quick perception.

“Sit right here Little One.” He tapped right beside his neck and held still as she walked to the pointed area. Sitting down, she dared to lean a bit of her weight against his neck. She was instantly met with warmth and the gentle pounding of his pulse. When he started reading his smooth voice vibrated her minutely.

After a while, Y/n started becoming sleepy from the comfortableness of her position. Loki stopped reading.

“You know Little Miss, I think you have a lovely voice… perhaps you should use it more often.”

Y/n pondered these words in her sleepy mind.

Maybe she would heed his advice, but for now, she would sleep.

[wizkiddx]

the worst case scenario 2

i did decide to make this a little parter thing, but really want to be as sensitive as poss (honestly using this as a sort of therapy for what I see myself ah). So please   do not read if anything in the warnings may trigger. I very much am not trying to ‘romanticise’ these sorts of situations in any way but also be aware medically this is NOT accurate.This part is short but I think there will be more.

warnings: hospital - ICU, respirators / mention of death , maternal mortality / talk of family dynamics and abandonment of a child

[previous part]

The sight Nikki walked into is something that as a parent you never want to see. Walking into this cold and otherwise empty ‘relatives room’ to see her son collapsed in a world of pain onto his best mates chest. Tom was too busy sobbing to even notice her entrance but her and  Harrison instantly locked eyes . Not even able to muster up a greeting smile, Harrison just nodded her in, admitting her entrance to the most horrific situation. 

It was about half an hour since she had been texting Haz, arranging when they’d be able to come and visit the newborn in hospital or whether it would be better to just wait till the new family got settled back at home, when Nikki had got a call from Tom’s number. With an excited grin she had instantly whipped her phone off the kitchen counter within one ring- a facial expression that didn’t last long at all. 

Met with the distant sound of crying first, Harrison’s deeper voice then emitted itself from her phones speaker, alerting her to the fact everything was very not right. He’d asked her to come to the hospital, said it was Y/n, that the baby was fine and then hung up. Dom immediately agreed to come with her but right now he was still parking the car, having dropped Nikki off right at the front. It had sounded that bad. 

Now, she knelt down infront of Haz and Tom, the latter who still was leaning over the arm rest and currently silently crying into his friends chest. Haz didn’t miss Nikki’s hands shaking as she reached out and rubbed up and down her sons back, the action prompting him to suddenly lean up to face her. He was broken. Totally and completely broken. Wordlessly, Nikki looked up for a second, communicating with Harrison so as if rehearsed he stood up and Nikki took his place in the chair - giving him a break from being Tom’s support. Beyond appreciative of how well Nikki could read a situation, Haz quietly but still in a hurried fashion made his way to the door. 

Because he was about to crack too - Tom couldn’t see him like that, not right now at least. And so his legs, completely of their own volition, carried him down the hallways. He had absolutely no idea what time it was, all sense of time passing had completely been thrown off earlier in the morning. He was oblivious to a lot, very much in his own thoughts and only realised where he had ended up when a nurse he vaguely recognised managed to garner his attention. 

“You’re here for baby Holland? She’s just round here.”

“I-“ He couldn’t respond but the nurse just nodded and then started off down the hallway, practically forcing the blonde to follow a couple of meters till they got to a perspex viewing window. 

“She’s the little cutie in the far corner over there.” The brunette middle aged lady softly spoke as she pointed through the glass to the incubator in the corner. “ Don’t worry about all the equipment, the doctors already come round and cleared her. She’s good to go home when you guys are…are ready.” Her words had trailed off, Harrison guessed she didn’t know how to phrase the current ‘situation’ Tom and Y/n were in either. After a couple of moments, the nurse placed a gentle hand on Harrison’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “You want to have a cuddle? I know your not dad but…”

“Yeh-yeh…please.” 

Harrison just felt awful. The little girl was barely hours into life and yet she wasn’t receiving nearly as much as love as she should be. Instead unnamed and alone in a cold and clinical setting. So he silently nodded away, taking in all the instructions the nurse gave as she sat him down in the arm chair next to the incubator. 

Once she placed the little blanket wrapped bundle in his arms the nurse smiled gently up at Haz “You want to feed her? I’m sure she’d prefer it from you than me love?” Ah. Now Haz really was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She’d never been given a feed before - except presumably the midwifes. 

“I-uh Y/n hasn’t even  so I probably shouldn’t…”

“I can promise you Miss Y/l/n would probably want her baby to be cared for by someone that loves her and that Miss Y/l/n trusts herself.” Ooof. How were nurses so intuitive? She literally read his mind and broken down all the ill-founded ideas Harrison had built up. 

“I’m not her Dad.”

“But you care.” Looking down once and briefly at the squished little face that wormed herself into Harrisons broad chest a little more, he then immediately nodded in agreement. Looking almost relieved, the nurse handed him a bottle and directed him as to how to hold it. After mere moments she gasped happily, leaning back whilst the blonde boy waited for her input. 

“She’s latched on easy peasy. You’re doing great, I can leave you to it if you want - I’ll only be round the corner.”

“Can you check if there’s any news on Y/n?” The kind lady nodded, before promptly exiting the room - leaving the two actually alone for the first time ever. 

He didn’t even think about it, whilst Haz cradled her in one arm and held the bottle up at the angle shown by the nurse, he quietly spoke to the little bundle. 

“I’m sorry you were lonely… your mum and dad love you lots and lots… we all do.” Not realising he was crying, Harrison almost scared himself when a single strangled and repressed sob escaped from his chest. “ You’re mum…. She’s a pain in the arse right?” Haz laughed a little wetly “ She’s sarky as hell and she always has an answer… you’d probably think she’s a badass… she is. And-and…. Your dad is just scared… He loves you I promise, he just… he’s worried about you mum.” Now there was actual tears welling up and overflowing his lower lash line, not matter how much he tried to blink them away. “But whatever… whatever happens. You got all of us kiddo… you got me.”

Jolted out of his thoughts by the ladies knuckles rapping twice on the door, Harrison immediately shook himself out of it, wiping his face on his arm to hopefully remove all the evidence of the slight emotional breakdown. 

“Mr Osterfield… the doctor wanted me to let you know he’s on his way to talk to Mr Holland.”

||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Harrison managed to get back to Tom, Nikki and now Dom before Dr Webber returned, so with a greeting nod to Dom he too took a seat opposite Nikki and Tom. His best mate wasn’t crying anymore, which could be considered a positive were it not for the sinisterly empty look in his eye. He looked almost robotic, staring almost straight ahead at the light grey wall, sat straight and rigidly except for his one hand clasped in Nikki’s. 

“You went to see the baby?” Nikki broke the silence, making Harrison smile sadly over at her with a nod. It didn’t even look as though Tpm heard his mum speak, even if he was sat right next to her. “She’s okay?”

“Yeh…I gave her a bottle. She-she’s very cute.” Harrison could see Nikki’s face morph into one of kindness before she looked left toward her son. Nikki was still yet to see to unnamed girl but just thinking about her made her heart flutter. And then stop when she thought about what that little girl was already going through, barely hours into existence. 

“You hear that Tom? Maybe you could go down and see her soon? After we’ve spoken to the doctor?” Nikki was only trying to do the best thing, Harrison knew it and deep down Tom did know it too. But now really really wasn’t the time for some gently encouragement from his mother, it wasn’t just Tom being a little stubborn. This was his whole entire world falling apart around him. He didnt have the energy or focus to even shoot down his mother, instead Tom chose to stay completely still - engrossed in his own thoughts. 

From the outset, when you take that leap and say to a person ‘I think we should try for kids now’ you are completely putting yourself at the mercy of the other. But when they agree? Then it’s a commitment. Not it the same way marriage is - because that’s a completely selfish gesture, you get married because YOU want to be married to each other. Rather, agreeing to have a kid is a promise, a promise of something more. Promising that you are bringing this life into the world - and half of that life is yours. You create it together and it becomes a joint responsibility. You can never, no matter what people think, ever stop being a parent. At the end of it all there will be another person that knows, scientifically, it is half you. Even if they never met you - they still ‘knew’ you. They would know you had to exist, they would see things in themselves that cannot be explained rather than the influence of their creator. 

And sure, it didn’t always work out that way. A parent would up and leave, a child always with questions and a sense of betrayal. But that child… they know you. Because there is half of you in them. 

So it was Y/n and Tom together that was slumbering blissfully on a ward downstairs. That was the scary thing. Tom was so sure he didn’t have it in him. He  wouldn’t do this without her. He couldn’t be a dad to a baby without a mum. He couldn’t be a parent without Y/n. 

Almost thankfully for the atmosphere in the room, a soft know had them all snatching their heads up the very same grey slightly potato like doctor waddled in, this time followed by 2 others; a tall, dark haired woman with a soft and empathetic smile; then another man but this one tall and slender, unlike the other two who were wearing professional clothes, he was donned in scrubs (with the scrub hate too).

“Mr Holland and uh… family” Dr Webber awkwardly greeted the new arrivals of Nikki and Dom, somehow apparently sensing they were Tom’s and not Y/n’s parents who were hours away. Oh fuck, Tom hadn’t even phoned them yet. 

“This is Dr Alison Goodwell and then Dr Rohan Avinash, he is Y/n’s surgeon.” They filed in and took seats surrounding them, Dom and Harrison standing up to stand off to the side, not wanting to get in the way of the doctors. All Tom could do though was overanalyse everything. Why was the surgeon here? What was this other lady doing here? A  pathologist? — no, he wasn’t going to think like that. Then the taller and most scary looking of the three inched forward, commanding the attention of the whole room.

“Mr Holland, I just wanted to go over what happened. Ms Y/l/n developed plactental accreta, which was the cause of the what we call here a post partum haemorrhage. When you raised the alarm she had already lost, at best guess, 3 pints of blood which is a lot, there’s no denying. Dr Webber and his team quickly brought her up to my team in surgery. We transfused her with blood but we couldn’t stabilise her and the bleeding didn’t show any signs of stopping so we had to perform emergency surgery….” Dr Avinash slowed down as he took in how close Tom looked to bursting out in tears once again, offering him the chance to have a moment to collect himself. Vehemently shaking his head in refusal, Tom crung his hands together furiously. He just needed to know. “Okay… Now the nature of the surgery, because we had to be so quick…it is quite invasive and is a lot of stress to put on anyones body. That and the amount of blood she had already lost makes the situation very dangerous. Sometimes when this happens a persons heart-“ Tom’s breath halted in his throat at the mention of her heart, Harrison sharing the bleak trigger which made him shift uncomfortable between his two feet. “-notices this, it goes into what we call hypovoloemic shock, this just basically means its not getting enough volume of blood to pump properly. So we have had to stimulate Ms Y/l/n’s heart with electricity to keep it pumping-“

“You shocked her?” He felt so numb and now adrenalin was coursing through his own veins, images like you see on TV shows of her body arching up not he table from the volts of electricity.

“I’m afraid we did have to but it meant we could keep her stable enough to fix the bleed. I am sorry to say this but we’ve had to remove her whole womb because it was so damaged.”

“But Y/n?” Again Harrison lost all willpower of control, though to be fair he wasn’t sure if he was being impatient or not -  this doctor appeared to be delivering this news painfully slowly, as if to torture everyone as much as possible.

“Your fiancé lost a lot of blood and her body went through a lot” The towering doctor kept his focus on Tom the whole time, Harrison’s interjection seemingly falling on selectively deaf ears. “We’ve had to use a machine to control her breathing  and for the moment she is still in a very dangerous place. Right now she is stable but I don’t want to make any promises to you. We are nowhere close to out of the woods yet.” Seemingly, feeling compelled to add in, the brunette doctor spoke for the first time since entering.

“But it’s still one hurdle she has got through… Now that the surgeons are finished with Ms Y/l/n me and the other intensive care doctors will be keeping a very close eye on her okay? We are all going to be working with you and your family 24/7, to keep Y/n as comfortable as possible.” Her soft smile managed to somehow break through to Tom, who jerkily nodded while Nikki squeezed his hand tight. There had been a lot of that going on  today and even if Tom would say he wished nothing more that it was Y/n rather than his mums grip - he still appreciated it. The doctor continued, leaning forward so her elbows were resting on the tops of her thighs. “Right now she’s asleep and probably will be for quite a while. We first want to be sure she’s not in any pain, so she is sedated. Now assuming everything goes okay tonight and she stays stable we might want to think about possibly reducing that sedation, however for right now I hope you are all in agreement that we just want to make sure she’s comfortable?” The whole room nodded steadily in response which the doctor acknowledged with a satisfied smile. 

“And we are all aware this is a lot to take in so if you have any questions or think of any please just let us know - it’s important that you guys are all fully in the know… How is your daughter?” Dr Webber started off so well, Tom was almost going to smile thankfully at him, until he mentioned it. Instantly, the cold and empty look reappeared behind Tom’s eyes as the room was held in silence for long enough to be uncomfortable. To be fair, the doctor wasn’t to know that recently Tom had taken to refusing to acknowledge he even had a child. 

“I-she’s really good… the nurse there said she’s ready to leave whenever” Harrison had to show that at least someone was looking out for her, he couldn’t not. 

“Okay” sharing a knowing look with Harrison, Dr Webber pitifully clasped his hands together, before looking back to Tom. “Would you like Dr Alison take you up to see her, sir?” 

again pls let me know if anyone is very not okay with this, i can take it down and not write any more!

[autumnslance]

This is @onyrica‘s fault, as there was discussion of Emet-Selch in her Discord the other day and this old idea I’ve had kicking around got sparked awake. Takes place sometime during Shadowbringers 5.0, a little moody Emet-Selch for you all. Under the cut for those who prefer Tumblr.

The Scions were off on more of their foolish adventures in a land still smothered by Light, and so Emet-Selch meandered around the Crystarium, bored. He had already quit the Ocular on an appropriately dramatic note, though in retrospect should have perhaps drawn out the conversation longer if this was to be the result.

He would learn the Crystal Exarch’s secrets yet; he needed but a little more time to unwind the wards the stripling wizard had placed upon himself and the Tower.

It was his Tower, the same one Emet-Selch had centuries ago overseen the construction of in the Source, though how and why it and its keeper were here on the First now…

“Back foul beast!” A reedy voice caught Emet-Selch’s attention, alongside the claps and cheers of a small crowd. He paused his ambling to glance idly toward the sounds.

Lost in thought, he had wandered near the schoolyard. It was currently set up with rows of benches and chairs in a wide half circle before a low temporary stage. Several of the smaller children gamboled upon it, their classmates and teachers fluttering behind flimsy sheet backdrops to the sides and rear.

The adults had sewn and braided cloth and soft leather into simple costumes, built padded weapons and other props and set pieces with wood, bone, stone, and metal, perhaps a little plaster here and there; scraps insufficient for use by the artisans of the Crystalline Mean, saved from going to waste in this manner. The backdrop had the lines of scenery sewn in, but like the props and other lightweight stage furnishings, the young actors had obviously painted it themselves. The results were sloppy, eye-searing combinations of bright hues that nevertheless lent further charm to the stilted, clumsy production on exhibition.

Ah yes; it was a popular fairy tale rendition of an earlier Minfilia’s tale, depicted by students for the patient amusement of their parents. He wanted to sigh and laugh at the ironic frustration of how the story was stripped of the actual woman’s desperate actions to preserve a fragment of this world, making it possible for his own plans to complete its Rejoining to the Source, furthering the goals of himself and his brothers.

And yet…

“Hades, come see what Hythlodaeus has made for our play!”

“Did you create this concept yourself?”

“I did! It’s still a little rough, though. I was hoping you would have an idea on how to improve it.”

“Hmm. I just might, although…”

“Will it get us in trouble with the Matron?”

“Possibly; not that that’s ever stopped you, my friend. Nor Hythlodaeus from encouraging you.”

“Haha, no need to tease! You’re as eager as we are, besides. Come, let’s hear your idea for my concept, and put on a play our elders shall remember years from now.”

Emet-Selch caught himself smiling as the small child playing Minfilia expressed glee at “defeating” a slightly bigger classmate in the role of a sin eater. The little thing was so excited and overwhelmed by the cheers of the audience that a teacher had to prompt the next lines. He clapped along as yet another child playing the former Eulmoran General came to take Minfilia onto destiny—and death, but nevermind that; the schoolyard play ended on a cheerful note, the class lining up unevenly to take their shy, awkward bows as their friends and families cheered.

“Bravo,” Emet-Selch called as well, noticed by only a few of the participants, just another adult in the crowd.

It was a ridiculous, crude little affair. Nothing like his hazy piecemeal memories of his own long ago youth, let alone the demonstrations of Amaurot’s students in later years when he served on the Convocation, their nascent concepts hints of their later talents, nurtured by the elders who guided their course.

Yet a small part of him found something charming in the clumsy little production, the attempt at bringing to life a story with script and props and the energy of children.

A paltry display, a larger part of him hissed. Nothing like what they could, should be capable of if they were whole.

Still; he was ever interested in the mortal need to create, to strive for more than their clumsy hands and stunted imaginations could conjure. That they sought to reach the heights of their forgotten ancestors, yearning to bring to existence that which they only saw within their minds’ eyes.

It was all the proof he needed that he held to the correct course. That they wanted to be Rejoined, wanted to create instantly with a simple thought that which took their crude methods time to draw in only rough approximations.

“I have been looking forward to this showing for moons, Hythlodeaus. Your pestering about the Convocation’s latest decisions shall not distract me.”

“I wanted a bit of gossip, not the politics, though I suppose they could be one and the same—don’t frown at me like that.”

“I shall frown all I wish, though you should hope the play changes my mood.”

“Hehe; we both know it shall, you have ever been a fan of such stories. Or is it the flair of how the stories are told?”

“Perhaps a bit of both. There’s a magic to theater that is wholly different from mine own.”

“Tis a shame our friend has left again, and shan’t return for quite some time, rather than accompanying us.”

“Yes, but we all have our roles to fill.”

“Didja like our play, mister?” One of the little urchins was at his feet, looking up at Emet-Selch with a gap-toothed grin, still in slapdash costume.

He stared down for a long moment, then allowed a small smile, playing the part of indulgent grandfatherly figure. “I have ever been a fan of the theater,” he told the child. “A finer production I’ve not seen in this world.”

Not even a lie; he had not yet had the chance even while in Eulmore.

The child squealed in delight, spitting out a quick “Thank you!” before responding to a parent’s call.

Emet-Selch watched the child dash off, trying to ignore the old, hollow ache in his chest and the brief spark of warmth the interaction nearly kindled within it.

The child was inconsequential; he could have snuffed out the tiny half-life with a snap of his fingers and it would not matter a whit to the universe—in truth it would even be far kinder than the inevitable destruction of Rejoining.

But perhaps the children would put on another of their clumsy little plays before that happened. Another small proof of man’s eternal striving to reach for the heights they once knew when whole, and would know again once he had his way.

“I swear, with your penchant for theatrics, you should have become a playwright, or an actor, Emet-Selch.”

“I may someday, dear Azem, when your own antics force me into retirement for my sanity’s sake. Now please, aid me in resolving this matter lest Loghrif truly does murder me at our next meeting...”

The echo of his old friend’s laugh rang in his ears, annoyingly tinged in the current reincarnation’s voice, as he ambled away from the schoolyard.

He found himself pausing to look back at the bright little stage and realized he was still smiling.

Emet-Selch shook his head. A momentary lapse; how annoying.

The stage was set, his script was written; the actors had but to find their marks, their actions against the Lightwardens unwittingly hurtling them ever closer to the final curtain call.

Then they would understand, and would remember the dazzling spectacle, the possibility of true creation.

In the meantime, these too brief, imperfect reminders would have to do, as he had told himself countless times before in his centuries among these fragmented worlds.

[thebadboyfanclub]

There’s Nothing Wrong With Submission (Geralt x Reader)

Again, this wasn’t requested and I ain’t even gon’ lie to you, I got this idea while catching my reflection in the mirror when I was laying on my bed with a bra and underwear so.... get ready for this.

P.S I don’t want to hear it about how this magical creature isn’t factual, neither is being a witcher so shush and enjoy this

(Y/n) was one of the lucky ones that chose to become something... different. Her “mortal” life felt like it was ages ago and she was a maid in a wealthy household and she fell for the son that only wanted to get her to bed on demand, it only resorted into her having a baby out of wedlock... shame. Her parents sold the baby and kicked her out of the household, she only got to hold it for a few minutes before it was stripped away from her.

Another enchantress found her in the forest, crying and shaking from the cold. She took her to her shelter and told her about a new life, a life of... pleasure and power.

(Y/n) was liberated, she had never seen women take such pride and strength in the sacred act of sex, they were the leaders in bed and they used their bodies for power and brought submission to a different level. The sex enchantresses of Lillith, they could survive like everyone else but they absorbed power from the mans lust for her, not to be mistaken for a succubus, a succubus survived from sex, an enchantress gave immense out of body experience to the man that provided with magical power, the trick was that the man had to have lust for the enchantress and that’s where they “fed” from.

She decided to move from her hometown and with the money she had from her “sisters” she bought a small cottage nearby the forest she was found. She was almost home when she heard the voices of two men and the prance of a horse, she decided to hide so she can fully observe the men that are approaching

“Hold that thought”

They stopped abruptly and the man with white hair looked around, she scanned them carefully and she liked what she saw. The man with silver hair was made of muscle, tall and proud, she could only see his profile but from what it seemed like his face was sculpted by Lilith herself as a treat to her daughters.

“You can come out now”

He said in a low voice that made it sound more like a grunt, he looked straight at her hiding spot. She rose up and took off her hood, letting her hair loose and frame her face.

“Who are you?”

“I think I am supposed to ask that, you are the nomad here”

She responded. Geralt had encountered many women in his life but never someone like this, her eyes spit fire, her skin seemed perfect and she exudes confidence and femininity out of this world, he was mesmerized by her lips that curved into a devilish smirk as she came closer.

(y/n) saw his eyes, he was a witcher and a handsome one at that, she had not yet discovered the advantage she had on him, she knew what he was yet he was still guessing what she was.

“You’ve traveled a long way... witcher”

“I don’t see how’s that a concern of yours”

“It’s not, although I am willing to give you shelter for the night, even after your dismissive and rather I say rude tone”

Geralt tilted his head to the side, trying to figure her out. There she stood, a woman made to perfection offering him and his friend shelter in the forest, something didn’t seem right.

“Oh what a kind offer, we would be very grateful if you kindly took us in miss...”

“(Y/n), pleasure to meet you”

“Jaskier, pleasure is all mine, believe me”

“Shall we?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, she just turned her back on them and started walking towards her house. This is a gift directed to her, she hadn’t fed off in a while and she was ready to...serve this man.

As they walked in and let them settle, (y/n) changed at her house attire, an almost see through night dress that would always do the trick. As she walked down the stairs to her guests Geralt was speechless at the sight of her.

“Jaskier, follow me please”

They ran up the stairs as (Y/n) led the way to the spare bedroom. Jaskier was more than happy to see a nice clean bed ready to lay down and wake up in 3 days, he thanked her once again and went in the room not even questioning the fact of his friend not having a room. 

(Y/n) walked back down and went over to living room, kneeling in front of the fireplace to light up the fireplace. Geralt took her in, she seemed so calm and sure of herself, she wasn’t a mortal judging by the fact she lived in the woods and wasn’t afraid of him in the slightest.

“Haven’t you seen a woman before witcher?”

“Not your kind I’m afraid”

She scoffed as she got back up and went over to the kitchen, filling it with water and placed it on top of the fire to warm it up.

“Don’t you want to find out?”

She slowly went to him, a few strands of her falling on her face. As he reached with his hand to grab her face, she turned her back on him and walked to the stairs.

“Let me show you to your room, witcher”

“Geralt”

“He has a name, very well then follow me Geralt”

As they went up the stairs Geralt noticed there were only two doors and since she had already escorted Jaskier to his room then... him and (y/n) would share.

“This is my room but I have a spare bed you could sleep on”

He felt his excitement slowly leave his body, he wasn’t ready to admit it but she was a woman he would indulge in for hours on end.

“Great”

“Where you expecting something better?”

“Perhaps, but I guess beggars can’t be choosy”

As he went to his bed, (y/n) made sure to close the door behind them. She could feel everything he felt, she had never fed off from a magical creature before, this was better than she ever expected.

“Then let’s see if I can make the offer more appealing”

As Geralt turned to look at her, he was met with a naked (y/n). Her dress was on the floor and her hair grazed her breasts, her body was a dream for every man, she was a woman made to make men lustful and get them on their knees.

“Does my offer not please you? Witcher”

It took Geralt a few steps to be able to grab her, her legs immediately wrapping around him and his lips found his, it was like he could taste sweet nectar that dripped from her full lips and her scent made him clasp her waist harder. He took her to her bed and before he could comprehend it she had managed to straddle him and take off his clothes, she started kissing his neck when the first moan of hers was heard when he entered her. 

She rode him like a professional, her skin soft and just the sight of her moving her hips and her breasts going up and down could make anyone finish, he rose up to kiss her and wrap his arms around her sweaty body, his muscles against her torso aroused her and when his hand found her hair she smirked as he pulled her head back, she run her tongue over her lips,feeling the power of magic run through her, it was so overwhelming that it forced her body to start shaking and closed her eyes tightly

“What are you doing to me?”

“Magic”

She responded, the pleasure he felt was immaculate, euphoric one might add, he has slept with all types of women but there was never one that could out do him. Geralt was an excellent lover and a force in the bed, so him starting to feel drowsy and weak was something utterly new, he felt so tired he had to lay back down, the room started to spin and some stars started to clog his vision. (Y/n) picked up on the affect she had to him and leaned closer to his ear, her hands went on his chest, smiling down at him as she continued to ride him towards the finish line

“It’s alright Geralt, Just enjoy it”

She reassured him, tossing her hair to one side as she lifted herself back up. (Y/n) started feeling the climax coming closer and closer, her moans louder and her hips going faster, Geralt could feel he was close to the end as well, (y/n) got there first, throwing her head back and her mouth fully open, not caring that jaskier was right across from them and could hear everything. 

As Geralt reached his end it felt like his body was acting on it’s on, fire spreading through him and then nothing, lights out.

-

“Hello witcher”

Geralt fluttered his eyes open. (Y/n) was laying next to him naked, smiling at him as her hand caressed his cheek. He grabbed it and rose up immediately looking straight in her eyes, their face so close one could feel the others breath.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, you fainted”

“What are you?”

“An enchantress”

That couldn’t be, he had met an enchantress before and there was no mention of making men faint during sex. She scooted closer to him and then straddled him once more, as much as he wanted to throw her off he couldn’t do it, he just laid back down as her hand pushed him gently down and let her lay on top of him.

“Have you ever heard of the sex enchantress of Lilith?”

“No”

“We feed of lust men have for us, of course we don’t need it to survive it just helps with out powers”

“You fed off from me? Impossible”

“Dear Geralt, you might be powerful but you still haven’t figured out one important thing”

She said as she sat up, still sitting on top of him, her hands on his chest caressing his sweaty muscles.

“Really? What is that?”

“Nothing is impossible when a woman is involved”

He flipped her over earning a squeal and a giggle as he guided her leg to hook around his. He should be mad, furious for falling for her tricks, however he felt like there was nothing he could do to her, secretly wanting to please her. He was a fool for being so kind to her, well I guess there is no rules on war and sex. His hand reached her throat giving her a tight squeeze, she couldn’t breath easily he knew that, still there was no sight of discomfort on her face

“Do it, come on do it, kill me. You’ve done it before haven’t you Geralt?”

“I should do it, it will be easy”

She looked straight in his eyes while her mouth hang open at an attempt to breathe. In a blink of an eye Geralt found himself caving in and kissing her lips once again, his hand still on her throat but there was no grip.

He pulled back and moved his hand to her cheek, his thumb going over her swollen red lips, he could feel the blood running through them, they were so tempting that he had to restrain himself from kissing her as hard as he could until he draws blood, he was slowly going mad just by being in her presence. Nothing good would come out of their paths crossing

“You...”

“Just enjoy it Geralt, there’s nothing wrong with submission”

[thebigqueer]

A while back you mentioned something about the Apollo kids parents meeting up every one in a while and Apollo running into them during one of those times. Do you think you could write a lil fic about that?

ahhh yes that’s one of my favorite headcanons!!

thanks for the prompt, and i hope you like this! and, as always: i do little to no editing on these fic prompts, so don’t be too judgmental as you read through them. they’re definitely not my best work but i just can’t ever be bothered to look back aslkdjslfkd

this will be in first person because idk i really loved apollo’s pov in first person so i hope i do his character justice lmaoo

also as i was writing this i’m not gonna lie i felt really bad for apollo all he wanted was to have some time with his children 😭

also!!! we are!!! so starved!!! for dad!apollo moments!!!! bro can we just!!! see more dad!apollo moments!!!! come ON rick!!!! i didn’t realize how much i wanted them until i wrote this halskjfaslkjf 

I will say, I wasn’t quite sure what to be expecting when I came down to the mortal world today. It definitely was not to find out all of my exes regroup annually to mock me. 

Since becoming a god again, I’ve made it a personal promise to come down every once in a while. I’ve grown quite attached to these mortals, especially to my demigod children. After all, my own descendants are the best of all living beings; it’s only fair that I come and talk to them every once in a while. And, believe it or not, being around mortals helps me, too. It makes me find comfort in a world where lives may be short but lives are lived; as a god, I only ever exist. 

When I was human, though, I truly lived. It was exhilarating. Now that I am a deity again, there’s a hollowness that resides in me.

Sometimes coming down to this mortal world helps me simulate that experience of being human again. It helps me feel less lonely up in my world of immortality and timelessness. 

The sun blazes overhead as I traipse along to my cabin after just meeting with Dionysus. The insufferable bastard beat me once again at pinochle and would not stop gloating, so I decided to storm away from the wine god before he could start beating my ass in Uno.

However, as I approach my cabin, my rage ebbs away. My demigod children stand around the entrance, talking in hushed voices, and my heart bursts with warmth. It has only been a few weeks since I’ve last seen them, but each time I do, I feel only a flush of pride looking at them.

“My children!” I exclaim. “I’m here once again!” 

They all jump as if I’ve scared them. For a moment, no one says anything. Then they break apart and each of them offer me a shaky smile of their own. 

“Hey, Dad,” Will says, his voice a bit higher than I remember.

I step forward, happiness flooding over me. It hasn’t been too long since I’ve seen them but it certainly feels like it’s been millennia. “How are you all?”

Kayla pushes a pack over her shoulder. “We’re... good. How are you?”

Her words carry a bit of hesitation as if she’s nervous. Suspicion crawls over me. I cross my arms and respond, “I’m good too. Why do you have that bag over your shoulder?”

Austin, Will, and Kayla all turn to each other, sharing a look of panic. A shiver runs through me as I realize they’re up to something. I smile. “Ohhh, are you planning something? A prank, perhaps?” I rub my hands in anticipation. “Can I get in on it?”

Austin raises a hand and scratches his head. “Um, not quite. We’re actually... going somewhere.” 

Panic seizes my heart and I rush forward. “Going somewhere? Where? Like, a quest?” I reach out to my children and hug them, feeling each of their bodies in my arms. “Why did no one tell me? Oh, gods, what if I never see you again?” Tears well up in my throat. I’ve only just come down to the mortal world, and they’re already leaving for doom?

“No, no, no!” Kayla exclaims, pushing against my arms. “Not like that, Dad! Not a quest. We’re just going out to the city. No need to worry.” 

Relief washes over me and I laugh, taking my arms away from them. “Oh, that’s great! Are you going somewhere fun? Can I come?”

Before any of them can answer, a familiar demigod steps out of the Apollo cabin. They step towards Will and hand him a pack of ambrosia. It takes me for a moment to remember that it’s Nico di Angelo. He opens his mouth to speak to Will, then stops when they notice me. “Oh no,” they mutter. 

“What do you mean, oh no?” I ask, the claws of suspicion creeping over my skin once more. “What are you three up to? Is Nico coming with you?”

Nico whispers to the three, “You haven’t told him?”

“Not a good time,” Kayla hisses.

“Well, I guess now is a better time than never,” Nico says. They turn to me and state blatantly, “They’re going to meet their parents in New York City.” 

Kayla and Austin smack their faces and Will sighs. “You could have let us say it,” the blond mutters.

“Better to know from a child that isn’t his,” the child of Hades reasons, shrugging.

I blank. I was not quite expecting that response, and definitely not so casually. I stare at the four demigods quizzically. “Oh? I suppose that’s fair. But all three of you? All your parents know each other?”

“Um, well... they’re kind of friends,” Austin admits. “They... communicate often.”

A wave of humility washes over me. I will admit, it’s a little bit embarrassing knowing that the three people you’ve had children with all know each other and actively communicate. I would have suspected they’d feel a bit awkward with each other, but I didn’t quite expect they would be actual friends.

I tip my head in a sad nod. “I see. Well, I hope all three of you have fun today!” I’m trying not to sound too upset, but it’s a little bit hard when you’ve come down to the mortal world just to find out your children are going to be going into the city far away from you.

“Hey, Dad, we can hang out later!” Will suggests, a kind smile balancing over his lips. But he’s only saying that out of pity. He feels bad for me. This makes me crawl in further into myself.

“Yes, that sound alright,” I promise, feigning a smile. "But, really, don’t feel bad.” My shoulders rise and fall in a shrug. “The last time I met your parents their careers were becoming quite busy. I suppose you don’t see them as often as you’d like, is that correct? And at this point, you’ve been seeing me even more often than your own mortal parents. It’s only fair that you have some private time with them.”

A tense silence tightens the air around us. Austin shifts on his feet. After a moment, Kayla says, “Well, we better go. We’ll see you later, though!”

A cold fist seizes my heart.

Will winces. He reaches over and squeezes my shoulder. “We’re sorry to leave you like this, but we didn’t expect you to come by today. We can definitely do something later, though. The three of us will be back by six. Nico’s going to do ghost stories tonight, too, so maybe you’ll want to hear those.”

I wave my hand dismissively and try on a smile that doesn’t quite fit right. “No, really, don’t feel too bad. I’ll come by later and we can do a movie night together after Nico’s ghost stories. I’ll see you later! And have fun!”

They all glance at each other hesitantly, then seem to come to a collective agreement. “Thanks, Dad,” Austin says, pulling me in for a hug. The other two do the same, then all three demigods wander out into the sun, aiming for the exit out of camp.

Nico stares at me, eyebrows raised. “So, what are you going to do now?” Picking at their jeans, they add, “You’re Apollo, so I’m expecting that you will be doing something stupid.”

I frown. “Those are brave words for a demigod to say to a powerful deity.”

“You’re too mushy at this point to pulverize me. They’ve made you soft.” He means it as an insult but their eyes glimmer. A smile laces his mouth.

I offer them a smile back. “Well, I suppose you are correct. I shall see you for your god-tier ghost stories.” 

Nico shakes his head and turns to leave. “Please never reference modern things ever again.”

~

A little bit later, I’m balancing on a chair at a pizza shop in New York City. I’ve chosen the disguise of a businessman, mostly copying the image of a fairly attractive man I met on the way. Perhaps I will go and look for him after I’m done stalking my children. 

The scent of pizzas swirl around me, contaminating my nose. The excited chatter of families and friends surround me. Some afternoon sun pours in through the open windows, offering the entire pizza place a relaxed look.

Somewhere to my left, a large group eats and talks, laughter echoing from their table. All my children are sitting to one side of the booth, while the adults loom over them on the other. Will’s bright blond hair gleams blindingly as the sun washes over his locks. 

I wasn’t quite sure of what I was expecting from all three of my exes. Perhaps more gray hair, some wrinkles over their faces. No doubt all three of them have those, but they each look at peace, happy with life. There’s a brightness in their eyes as they gaze at their children. 

I understand that look. I feel the same pride when I see all three of them. 

Envy roils inside me. I’m not sure why, considering that I see the three demigods more often than they see their own mortal parents. Perhaps I’m just nervous that they adore their mortal parents more than they care for me. 

But I wouldn’t blame them if they did either. I’ve spent too long only caring about myself. A coil of embarrassment wraps around me.

But I’m changing that now, aren’t I? I wasn’t the best parent, but I can only hope my children are seeing that I’m here for them. I only want what’s best for them.

Another burst of laughter erupts from the booth, and I turn my head, straining my ears to listen. Naomi’s silky voice echoes over them: “...and just as he got up he tripped over himself and fell on the ground. Honestly, I have no idea how he could have been a god, but he sure was dumb.” Naomi sighs. “Maybe that’s why I thought he was so adorable. People just constantly try to impress me. He did, too, but at least he was failing. He may have been a god, but he seemed almost human the night I met him.”

With a shiver, I realize that she’s discussing the moment she met me. Red hot embarrassment spreads over my face. Gods of Olympus, that was a terrible evening for me. I was just so awestruck by her performance. She literally made me come down just to see her perform. I could barely contain my excitement when the show was over!

Will’s sunny voice stands out, amusement lacing his voice. “Speaking of dating, tell us about your new girlfriend. I don’t remember you telling me about her too much at our last Iris message.” 

My eyes widen. Girlfriend? I wasn’t aware Naomi was queer! A pang of guilt stabs me in the heart. What else don’t I know about my loved ones? I know I haven’t quite kept up with her, but shouldn’t I at least know this about her? 

Shouldn’t I know anything about the three of my exes?

The chatter continues for a bit longer. The adults discuss some more dating history, especially surrounding their humiliating encounters with me. I cower behind my newspaper, feeling only the heat of embarrassment under my skin. Why must I be such an idiot?

Perhaps this is why my children don’t seem to like to me too much. Because I only ever do things to embarrass them. Maybe I’m just a loser of a father.

As I wallow in my own pity, the conversation turns another direction. My ears strain a little more. This time Latricia is speaking, a whisper of nostalgia brushing through her words: “He sure was something. But I think that we can all agree on something: I’m glad he came into my life. Without him...” Her lips quirk into a smile and she brushes her fingers over Austin’s. “Well, without him, I don’t think we’d have each of you. He really brought light into our lives.” She sighs. “He may not have stuck along too much, but you three make it sound like he’s getting better. I’m just glad that... that you’re getting to talk with him again. It seems like he really is starting to care about his children.” Latricia’s eyes rove over all three children, eyes glimmering with satisfaction. “I’m glad he’s seeing you three in the same light as we do.”

My ears turn hot and a red blush coats my cheeks. She’s right; I do appreciate them. Without my children, I don’t know how I could have managed to get through everything I did. Even now, after all that’s happened, it feels as though I have nothing better to look forward to than knowing how amazing they are. Tears stab my eyes. 

And I almost jump out of my seat when someone calls, “You can stop hiding behind that newspaper, Apollo. We know it’s you.”

The voice surprises me so much I pop right back into my typical godly form, chiton and all. I’m already so embarrassed that I barely even realize that I’m half naked in public now. Grimacing, I stand and offer an awkward wave. “Ah, hello.”

Darren Knowles smiles at me, a knowing sparkle in his eyes. “You thought you were being stealthy, didn’t you?”

It’s been a while since I’ve really seen Darren, and the years have certainly aged him. Yet there’s still a flutter in my chest as I look at him. He doesn’t look so bad; he’s probably in his thirties or forties. I smile. “Well, I thought my godly powers would help disguise me.”

“Not as well as you thought,” Latricia remarks, smirking at me.

“How long have you known I was here?”

This time, Kayla speaks up. “Dad, we literally knew you were here the moment you got here.”

I blink. “And you didn’t call me out?”

Will shakes his head. “We wanted to see what you’d do. Gotta say, I’m surprised you didn’t do anything too spontaneous. Good job.” 

He’s teasing me, but even then I feel a brush of humility come over me. “Well, I have to say that I didn’t quite know you three only come together to make fun of me.”

Naomi waves her hand in a dismissive manner. “Only to make sure our children know how lucky we are to have them.” Her eyes rove over me, almost as if judging how much I’ve changed. “I haven’t seen you in a while," she notes.

The three adults share a look, carrying a silent conversation with each other. Will, Austin, and Kayla watch me as if they expected me to do exactly this. Austin laughs. “You really don’t take no for an answer, do you?”

I shrug. “I just... I don’t know. I know I already see you three often enough, but I suppose I just wanted to see how things were going. Especially with your parents.” I glance at them, my cheeks blooming red. “I haven’t exactly been the best parent in the past. I just want to apologize. And let you know that your children... Well, they’re some of the most extraordinary people I’ve ever met. You’ve raised them better than I could ever have.”

Silence lingers in the air, waiting for someone to make the next move. Then Darren gestures to the food before them. “Why don’t you sit? I suppose we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

[sparklingchan]

Prologue|| Stormbringer- Stray Kids Demigod AU

Pairing : Reader(fem.) X Felix

Word count : 1.2k+

Warnings : Family issues, mentions of mythological monsters, not edited.

Genre : Romance, Demigod AU, fluff, angst.

Description: Two twelve year olds kids with apparently normal lives find themselves in a rather uncomfortable position when they are told the truth about their not-so-normal parentage.  

A/N : FINALLY I managed to post this!! I haven’t been feeling well lately so hope I didn’t keep anyone waiting too long. This prologue doesn’t necessarily connect with the main plot of the story but it does lay the backdrop for it so this part might come off as plain. 

Hope everyone’s been keeping well, given the current situations. If you need anyone to talk to, I’m right here!

SERIES MASTERLIST ||  Click here for introduction to the story and glossary and here for the Stray Kids demigod diaries!

Lighting in the Sky

"Before the world existed, there was nothing. Only a primary void, a nothingness and ..chaos. "

Your glazed, intrigued eyes follow every word from the new book your mother reads out from, your curiosity unable to handle the wonderful way your mother always turns every story into a mystery.

The bright green cover of the book looks attractive, and smooth like glass. Instinctively, you hold your finger up to its surface.

Its cold.

" 'Famous tales from Greek Mythology ' " you read out its title, now no longer paying attention to your mother's words, "Mum, do you think the people in these stories are real?"

Your mother stops mid sentence, not really surprised when a rather familiar memory finds its way back to her. Thunderstorms, a handsome young man, rapid heartbeats, a little baby girl.

"I'd like to think so," she runs her fingers through your hair, "But not all of them are as heroic as they're made to be in these books."

You wondered what her words had meant for a long time after that. For a 12 year old girl, you'd been way too curious, way too hard to deceive. But truth is something that cannot be hidden for too long.

You remember that day as clearly as if it were yesterday.

It was your 13th birthday , a joyous day for a young girl who'd always wanted to experience the so called 'exciting' teen years. Your mum had prepared an amazing celebration for you- a small picnic by the seaside, a chocolate cake (your absolute favorite), the second edition of 'Famous tales from Greek Mythology ' as a gift. It was almost perfect.

Almost.

While on your way to the parking lot, a dog pounces at you. Except it wasn't just a dog. It was a Hell Hound.

You'd only seen the likes of it before in your story books and in your nightmares that were as vivid as memories. But you know exactly what a hellhound really is. Hellhounds are dogs that guard the Underworld - world of the dead .

"Get off of me, you dog!" You scream as the monster claws at your face.

Viscious creatures and brilliant killers these dogs are and if it weren't for two boys showing up to your rescue, you are sure you'd have become the hellhound 's food that day.

"Are you okay, y/n?" The boys ask you.

"H-how do you know my name? Who are you people?" You pant, on the verge of tears, "What was that thing?"

The taller of the two boys - Hyunjin, as he would introduce himself to you later sends a look of confusion over at the shorter boy - who also introduces himself as Minho later. "We have a lot of talking to do, y/n. Where's your mom?"

Your mom is not one bit fazed when she drives the three of you back to your small apartment. It's almost as if she'd been expecting it all along.

Once you reach your house, your mom who's usually extremely cheerful and loud, sits you down quietly on the couch and tells you the truth. Of who you are, what you are capable of.

"Sweetie, your father is not the book author you think he is. I'm so sorry I lied to you. " she sucks in a deep breath, almost scared, "Honey, your dad is...a God. A Greek God. The ones we read about."

And that one sentence turns your entire world upside down. Everything you've ever known just changes.

But sometimes changes are for the best, you'd like to think.

Minho and Hyunjin reveal that they come from a place called Camp Levanter - a home for kids like you, demigods is what they're apparently called.

"A-are you like me too?"

"Yes, y/n. We're like you." Minho says, "I'm the son of the Greek God Dionysus and Hyunjin over here is the son of the Greek goddess Aphrodite."

Hyunjin pats your head ever so gently and in an alluring voice says, "Do you want to come with? We could be your friend. How does that sound?"

You find yourself nodding almost immediately.

And just before you walk out of the door, you give your mom the tightest hug, assuring her that you'd do just fine.

"By the way, mum, what's dad's name? You never told me."

You mom sighs, as the skies outside rumble with thunder, "Your father is Zeus - the God of sky and lightning. "

*

The symbol of Love

"Are we going to die tonight, Nana?"

Felix shivers into the embrace and pulls his greying, old grandmother closer, her weak body already completely corrupted by the cold and snow.

"N-not you, Lixie. You have things to do." She mumbles, holding the 13 year old kid to her chest, hoping to find some kind of warmth in this freezing cold weather, "I-its not your time yet. You will go back to your father, you hear me? You didn't have to come with me anyway!"

Felix's father wasn't the nicest person - to put it decently. He didn't so as much bat an eye towards him. Perhaps he was ashamed of having a child out of wedlock or worse, he was reminded of Felix's gorgeous mother he so dearly missed everytime he saw Felix.

Anyhow, parental love never made it into Felix's life from his father's side so instead he grew up under the warmth of his grandmother's love.

On his 13th birthday, Felix receives his first and last gift from his father; a step mother. That fall, his father marries an old colleague in a small ceremony. And Felix would later go on to hate himself for ever thinking that this new addition to the family might fill up the blank space his birth mother had left behind.

Not ten days after the wedding, his new step mother 'accuses' his grandmother of being rude and unwelcoming and begs his father to throw her out of the house.

Which all comes down to this moment, where his grandmother is freezing to death and he cannot do anything but watch silently.

"Hey, do you need help?" When Felix hears that voice, his first instinct is to brush it off as a hallucination, for who would help two homeless people in this bone chilling weather?

"Felix, do you need help?" A few rapid footsteps and two boys present themselves in front of him, panting as if they'd been running all the while.

"W-who are you?" He stutters, hugging his grandmother closer, "How do you know my name?"

One of the two boys reply gently, "I'm sure you have a lot of questions, Felix. How about we go to my place? Your grandmother might like a warm cup of tea, don't you think?"

And so he agrees to go with the two boys.

Once they'd warmed his Nana up and fed her, Felix gently tucks her into the bed of the guest room they'd been given. As scared as Felix was to accept their help, he knew he had no option. His grandmother meant the world to him and he couldn't watch her succumb right in front of his eyes.

The two boys are very careful in approaching Felix, making sure to not scare him more than he already is.

"What are your names? How do you know me?" They let a whole hour pass by as the three boys sit on the dining table, occupied with plates of untouched food and full bottles of water, letting Felix be the one to start conversation. And when he finally does, Changbin breathes a sigh of relief. Really, he was starving but he didn't want to seem rude in front of their new friend.

"I'm Chan," Chan introduces himself, and then Changbin speaks, "I'm Changbin. And why do we know you, you ask - well the three of us have quite a lot in common, you see. More than what meets the mortal eye."

Mortal eye? What's this all about? Felix finds himself more confused than he already was.

"We're the children of Greek gods, Felix. " Chan sighs, " You, me and Changbin. Is it hard to believe?"

Felix is about to say 'yes' out of pure impulse but he holds his tongue this time ; these guys don't seem like the kind to make such obnoxious claims, even as a joke. All his life, Felix had spent as an outcast, among his friends, among his cousins, among his classmates. His father had treated him like he were a monster. And his estranged mother who his father never said anything about? Felix finds suspicion knocking at his door.

Whilst its still extremely hard to believe, Felix responds,

"I want to believe you."

Chan and Changbin exchange a look of surprise, complete astonishment since none of them had expected Felix to even listen to them. And now that they have his attention, they find themselves a tad bit pressured as well.

"But don't disappoint me," Felix mutters, more to himself than to the boys, "Don't give me hope just to snatch it away."

And much to his surprise, he isn't left disappointed this time. These two boys manage to change his life completely, and now when Felix goes to bed at night, he finds a rather foreign feeling of fulfillment in his heart.

and for the first time in forever, he lets himself hope. Hope for a new family who would make up for the love his father could never offer. Hope for better days to come now that he's finally found a new identity and a new life.

****

Taglist: @chogiwow​@ctrlaltfangirl​@blueprint-han​@whattaweeb​@bigskzz​@judewalid​@kpopssuregi​@crispy-chan​

Note: Please DM or send an ask if you wish to be added to the taglist!

[hela-avenger]

To the Stars Who Listen- Part 7

Author: hela-avenger

Word Count: 1977

Summary: When Loki desires to never fall in love, he casts a spell to prevent such a thing from happening. Except, well, in the matters of love and magic, you never know the result it may have in the end. Loki x Reader

A/N: This one’s a bit long and the next one will also be pretty long. I’ve just got a lot I want to include!  Tags are open! (Send me an ask/message/response.)

TTSWL Masterlist

Loki scowled as you led him once more out of the beaten path. He’s forced to descend down the damn hill again until you are content at the bare field that laid ahead of you. Loki glares at the sun that is beating down at them but is relieved at the cool breeze that flowed through the nearby trees. 

“Why did you bring me out here again?” Loki asks. “Isn’t the point of an indoor training facility is to train indoors?”

“After the incident from yesterday morning I decided it would be best if we trained away from everyone,” you answer. “I really don’t need to hear more of my friends confessing things to me.”

“Come on,” Loki drawls. “I’m sure a tiny part of you enjoyed it.” 

You hadn’t and yet a sharp sting runs down your spine at his words. As if your power was reprimanding you for lying to yourself. You try to ignore it but involuntarily shiver and Loki grins at the action. 

You hate his grin. 

You don’t necessarily hate him even though you had many reasons to. 

Loki destroyed New York in an attempt to rule over mankind. He also got his ass chewed out by his parents when he got sent back home. 

Now he was here, claiming to be better, reformed. 

You had yet to see it but noticing how miserable Loki was in the past months roaming the halls of the Tower you knew the slow punishment was certainly fitting the crime. 

Though now, things seem to be working out for him. 

“Look, I don’t want to question your superior knowledge on this matter but there has to be another way for me to expel the excess power I keep surging,” you state. “I can’t be blasting things hours at end so I don’t physically implode.” 

“There are other ways but they’re more complicated,” Loki answers as he crosses his arms. He was hoping that would put an end to that question but you pestered on.  

“So?” you ask him. “I can handle it.” 

Loki snorts. 

The arrogance you held was comedic. He would blame your humanity for the awful trait but his brother and his merry band of friends were endowed with it too. 

“You’re asking me to teach you how to wield your seidr,” Loki explains. “In mortal words that should help you comprehend, you want me to teach you how to cast spells. It will expel your powers but not as quickly or as greatly as the siphons will.” 

“So is that a yes?” you ask him unable to fight the smile on your lips. Loki rolls his eyes but you continue. “Come on. I’m trying to find the silver lining to this new power. If I can cast spells like a witch then I want to learn.”

“I take offense to the word witch,” Loki mutters, noticing how your fingers fidget with the gold siphons. Your obvious discomfort of them was written so plainly on your face. “Even if you could cast spells, you’ll still have to wear and use the siphons daily.”

 “Are you agreeing to teach me then?” you ask him. For once you were excited at the prospect of this lesson. 

“My spells of expertise reside on tricks and lies,” Loki explains. “They won’t work for you so I will have to figure out spells that rely on your ability of the truth.” 

“Seriously?” you deflate. “There’s nothing you can teach me today?” 

“Well I had planned to teach you how to pull out secrets and confessions in a more covert way, but you won’t allow my lesson, will you?” 

You shake your head and Loki rubs his eyes tiredly. 

“Just teach me something simple!” you offer. “Something that you as a kid managed to pull off and then I’ll subject myself to your lesson without questions or commentary.” 

Loki watches you silently realizing that you needed this distraction. It’s been obvious from the beginning that this power was something you hated. He was confused by this anger. Had it been him in your shoes, Loki would be elated to be more powerful than before. 

Of course, you were a different breed. 

From what he could tell by his observations, you were beloved by all. Strong, kind, and smart to be considered at the same level as many of these heroes you surround yourself with. You did it all by yourself and with the single motivation of wanting to do good for the world. 

Your intentions are and have always been so pure that Loki wonders if that is why the Book of Veritas deemed you worthy to release its power into you. 

“I can teach you how to shield…” 

“Come on, I know you have something more fun up your sleeve,” you interject. 

Loki tries to think but he finds himself distracted by the warm smile on your face. He’s seen it in the company of others but never had it been directed to him. You had never spent this much time with him to deem him one. 

“I uh… I cast childish spells. They all rhymed too. I don’t think…” 

Loki doesn’t understand why his mind drives him to that particular memory again. Of floating rose petals and impossible possibilities. He’s horrified by it. Especially as you take notice of it. 

“You know of one,” you point out, your smile widening. “What is it?” 

Loki hesitates but he knows that if he withholds his response for too long you’ll be onto him in seconds. You’ll pry the answer out of him. The truth coming out one way or another. 

“It was a foolish love spell.” 

“A love spell?” you repeat amused. “Little Loki wanted to fall in love?” 

Surprisingly enough, you don’t laugh or make fun of him. Loki is wary by the lack of it but answers your question nonetheless.

“I desired the opposite actually,” he explains. “I don’t wish to ever fall in love.” 

“And why is that?” 

“I’m not going to answer that,” Loki states. 

You’re very curious to know the answer, but Loki’s privacy was one you had yet to invade without his permission. He deserves to keep his secrets in the same way that you didn’t always deserve the truth. 

“So how do I cast this love spell?” you ask him. 

“Wish to fall in love?” Loki asks, turning the focus on you. 

You shrug carelessly, “Maybe.” 

“Don’t have enough admirers already?” 

“What are you going on about?” you ask with a roll of your eyes. “I don’t have any admirers.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

You stare at him confused and Loki sighs in response. 

“You are.” 

Loki looks away in exasperation causing you to fidget again.  

“Just spit it out already,” you exclaim. 

“Bucky and Sam admitted they found you attractive yesterday morning,” Loki states. “And don’t get me started on the Captain…” 

“Steve doesn’t see me that way,” you sigh. “We’re just friends. All of them are my friends.” 

“Well, all of your friends are attracted to you.” 

You can’t avoid the sudden warmth that encompasses your face as you realize he’s being honest. You try to stammer out a response but the words are useless. 

“I uh… I mean… They’re not…” 

You take a deep breath trying to ignore Loki’s obvious amusement. 

“I don’t see any of them that way,” you respond curtly. “They are attractive men. Actually very attractive. I’m honestly surprised that the entire team hasn’t been poached by a model agency by now.” 

“You’re straying away from the point.” 

“Right, well…” you stumble. “The point is that I don’t find myself romantically attracted to them. They’re great guys but I need more.”

Loki doesn’t really care for your explanation and yet he finds himself intrigued. 

What more could you possibly want? 

You had the whole world in your hands and yet you desired more.  

There was only one way to find the answer and he dreaded the mere thought of it. 

“The love spell needs some binding elements,” Loki states. “I used rose petals but you can use whatever you can find.” 

You can’t help the smile on your face as he conjures a small gold bowl in his hands for you to use. You eagerly take it from him and Loki watches as you skip away to collect whatever you can find. 

“You are going to bind your desires to these elements so I would suggest you choose wisely.” 

You heed his warnings before coming back to him. 

“Ok I’ve got them,” you tell him. “What now?” 

Loki looks down at the filled bowl and scowls. 

A few autumn leaves, daisies, and blades of grass. 

“Interesting choices,” Loki mutters. “Do you have your spell in mind?” 

“No,” you answer. “But why don’t you tell me how yours went and I can just… copy that.” 

Loki notices the mischief laced in your smile. Your intentions were so blatantly clear because you had no wish to hide them from him. He wonders if this was a side effect of your powers or if it was from your original character. 

“A yellow rose petal for friendship, a white one for youth, a red rose petal for love and a blue one for truth,” Loki states. “...And that is all you’re hearing from me. The rest is none of your concern.” 

“Fine,” you smile. “Keep the juicy bits to yourself.”

You take a deep breath and look down at the contents inside your bowl.

“For my heart I wish to have... a man who loves me with all that he has. Blades of grass to signal he’s lean. A fighter, a lover, a man of means. Autumn leaves and daisies of plenty. I hope to find love when I least expect it.” 

Loki could taste the magic in the air. He closes his eyes and feels the warmth and softness brush against his skin. He waits to hear your shocked gasp as the elements in the bowl begin to float away but it never comes. 

“Is something supposed to happen?” you ask him as he opens his eyes to find the bowl still filled. “I feel like something should have happened.” 

“You’re indeed right,” Loki frowns. “Your binding elements should have flown away to find your perfect pair.” 

“Did I do it wrong?” 

Loki shakes his head. He could still feel the residue of your magic and the spell was perfectly casted. 

“Repeat it again.” 

So you do feeling the bowl grow warm in your hands. 

The magic is more pungent now and Loki feels how heavy it lays around them. Before he could decipher the phenomenon, the entire contents of the bowl blew up between them. You and Loki are covered in the debris of grass, shrivelled up leaves, and daisy petals. 

“Ok,” you cough out. “Was that supposed to happen?” 

“Not at all,” Loki scowls as he brushes off the remains from his person. 

“What does it mean?” you ask as you pull off a petal from your hair. 

The magic was fading away from the air and Loki had no explanation to offer as to why your love spell had gone wrong. 

Perhaps your demands were too much, but if that were the case that meant Loki’s spell had actually worked while yours didn’t. Someone who wanted love couldn’t achieve it while someone who didn’t had. 

Loki lets out a sigh. 

“I have no idea,” Loki shrugs as he takes the bowl from your hand and makes it disappear. “You might have infused too much of your power in it and burnt out the spell.” 

You can’t help but chuckle. 

Loki wasn’t necessarily lying but he wasn’t telling you the entire truth. The thing that surprised you immensely was that you really didn’t care to know what he could possibly be hiding. 

Not this time. Perhaps not ever.

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[statticscribbles]

Rivalry

Summary: Sweet Pea/Reader,  Rival’s are just one confession from lovers TW: Smut 

You expect Sweet Pea to chicken out like every other time. You’ve riled him up before, making snide comments and snapping back at him when he calls you a Northside princess. This is no different you’d been joking with Toni and Cheryl about where you’d get a serpent tattoo and Sweet Pea sneered and claimed you wouldn’t be able to make it past the trials. You recited each of the laws and stalked up to him.

“I could easily be a serpent.” “Not any kind I’d want.” He retorts and leans over you. You step forward craning your head upward, expecting him to move back, to straighten up when you snap forward intent on shouting next to his ear. An attempt to startle him, but he doesn’t move back, instead he turns slightly, your mouth misses the side of his face, past his cheek and you end up kissing him on the lips. You stagger back eyes wide as he smirks. “Aw didn’t know you felt that way about me; always thought you’d kill me before you did that.” “I’m not the one that grabbed me into them now am I?” You spit out and Toni laughs as Sweet Pea looks away. “I hate you.” He fires back glaring at Toni and Cheryl. ————————————————————————-

You’re not surprised when he avoids you the rest of the day; you know this means you won and cheer when Toni offers to buy you Pop’s “It’s only cause you managed to shut Sweet Pea up for the rest of the day. I don’t ever think I’ve seen him so lost in thought.” “You don’t think it was like too far do you?” You nervously glance at him and Fangs talking in the other booth. “Too far? Since when are you concerned about too far? You practically scream at each other every day.” “Well yeah but it’s just that, screaming, it’s never been physical.” Toni rolls her eyes. “You accidentally kissed him, not punched him in the face, he’ll get over it.” “Who’ll get over what?” Cheryl asks. Jughead and Betty sliding in next to her as she sits next to Toni. “Y/N kissed Sweet Pea earlier.” “Oh he finally actually said something about his crush, thank god; I’m so tired of listening to him pretending to hate you, maybe I’ll actually get some peace.” “His what?” You stare as Toni and Cheryl shake their heads at Jughead.

“So that’s a no then.” “So burger’s or just shakes?” Betty asks. “Wait no, can we go back to Sweet Pea having a crush on me?” You ask. “He doesn’t.” Cheryl states sipping her shake. “Jughead just said he did!” “No I said I was relieved he said something; which he hasn’t so no proof.” “Fuck this.” You stand sliding out of the booth to sit on the opposite side of Sweet Pea at the other end of the diner. “Jughead just told me you have a crush on me. Is that true?” “No hello or anything then?” “Answer the question.” You snap and Sweet Pea smirks. “What question?” “Do you have a crush on me?” You frown at him watching as his smirk grows. “Sounds like you want me to have a crush on you, is it cause you have feelings for me?”

“Feelings of hatred! Tell me!” You smack your hands on the table and Sweet Pea laughs. “Are you trying to threaten me? Cause that’s not working at all. You’re about as scary as hot dog.” “I’m going to murder you and they won’t find the body. Is that enough of a threat for you?” He rolls his eyes. “Come back when you either have proof, or an actual answer for me.” You narrow your eyes at him. “I asked you first.” Fangs snorts ducking his head when you turn your glare onto him. “Wow really digging deep into your brain to have an articulate comeback aren’t we.” “I hate you.” You spit and he nods. “I hate you more.”  You don’t respond returning to sit at the booth. Jughead trying his best to not smile.

“What Jones.” “Nothing, just that was actually the best attempt at getting a confession from Sweet Pea I’ve ever seen. Totally nailed it you did.” “I’ll murder you after I kill him.” Betty smiles. “I think what he means Y/N is, well look.” She nudges you and you turn back to see Sweet Pea glaring at Fangs; face flushed as Fangs laughs. ———————————————————————–

“He does like you, you know that right?” Betty asks as you walk towards everyone at lunch “Well why on earth would he act like he hates me so much, I’ve never met someone who acts so pissed off just at the sight of me.” “Really, I could’ve sworn your mirror and me have that in common.” Sweet Pea nods to you and Betty and you scowl at him. “Don’t respond, I want to actually eat lunch in peace.” Jughead groans. You nod at him and stay quiet; Sweet Pea glares. “What no witty comeback.” You smile. “No I figured if I’m joining up with the serpent’s I should actually respect the leader.” Sweet Pea stiffens and turns to Jughead who doesn’t respond. He glares at you. “I hate you.” He speaks and frowns at you; Jughead continues to ignore your spat. “I hate you more.” He rolls his eyes when you respond. ———————————————————–

“Seriously Sweet Pea, she can do whatever she wants. I’m pretty sure she was joking but if she wants to join I’m not going to say no.” You’re sure Jughead is rolling his eyes but you keep yourself hidden behind the bleachers at the back of the field next to the gym entrance. “You have to. She can’t join.” “Listen just cause you hate her or whatever doesn’t mean I’m going to turn her down if she genuinely wants to join.” “Jones, please, please don’t let her join.” “Give me one good reason then. And none of this ‘she’s a bitch or my mortal enemy or rival’ or whatever the fuck you two are.” “I-“ Sweet Pea starts and you can hear him sigh. “When she finds out what we’re really like, she’ll hate me for real.”

“That doesn’t make sense.” “Right now, she thinks we’re a gang for kicks, if she joins, she joins for life, like all of us, she’ll be marked as one of us. She has dreams Jones, I’m sure she wants to go to college and meet a nice guy and have a family, can’t do any of that when you’re in a gang, we’re all one bad job away from a coffin.” “Jesus Christ lighten up Sweets, that’s not going to happen in the next few years.” You peek around to see Jughead put a hand against his shoulder. “It’s not really about that is it?” “If she joins, or even if I tell her I do love her, if we date, I’m dragging her into that. If anything happened to her it would be my fault.” Jughead laughs. “Sweet Pea that’s her choice to make. You can tell her all that, tell her your worries, and see what she decides.” You decide it’s best to leave, slipping from behind the bleachers and into the side door for the locker rooms, changing from your Vixen uniform to walk out and pretend to interrupt there now finished conversation.

—————————————————————————————- You’re a little shocked when Sweet Pea appears on your doorstep, nervously holding out a history book. “Sweet Pea?” “Betty said you borrowed it and she asked if I could return it.” “Because you just happened to be in the neighbourhood?” You ask and he shrugs a little. “Come in, my parents are out for the night; it’s why its so quiet. Well thanks for the book.” You nod stepping farther back confused when he steps with you. “Can we talk?”

“Sure, soda?” You’re waiting for him to say how he saw you eavesdropping, how he knows you heard everything and it was just for show. He shakes his head and you sit in the armchair across from him in the living room. You wait for him to start when he doesn’t, simply fidgeting with the blanket he’s pulled over. “Sweet Pea?” You prompt expecting him to answer. “Did something happen?” You stand up stepping forward and placing a hand on his shoulder. “I’m fine.” “I didn’t ask that; what’s going on Sweets? What happened?” You step back when he stands up, watching as he sighs before tensing his entire body. “Y/N”

“Yes?” “I really hate you.” You watch the way his eyes don’t look at your face, and how you swear his face flushes slightly. “Oh, it’s like the Princess Bride.” Sweet Pea turns looking confused at you. “Like what?”

“Never mind it’s not important, now why’d you come all the way over here to give me your history book then.” You smirk flipping the cover open to point to his name. “What do you need to talk about then?” You put the book down and reach out for his arm. “I hate you.” You nod. “You’ve already said that Pea.” You can see him fighting with himself and you wait watching how his eyes flicker back and forth, seemingly arguing, before he comes to whatever conclusion he’s settled on.

“Fuck it.” He steps forward pulling you towards him and kissing you on the lips. You return his kiss leaning into it when he deepens it hands tightening their grip on you. You pull back slightly. “I hate you.” He hums, before returning to your lips, pulling back to kiss against your jaw and slightly down your neck. “Sweet P-pea.” You stutter slightly. He pulls back slightly and you whine; he smirks stepping forward so you walk backwards.

His hands gripping your waist head moving down to kiss you as he pulls you flush against him moving your hips against his as his tongue parts your lips. “Y/N?” You nod as he lifts you to press you against the wall your legs wrapping around him as he pushes your shirt up to let his hands roam around your body. His head dips from your mouth to leave hickeys and marks against your neck and trailing down as far as your shirt lets him. You pull back, and he hesitates about you place you back down, but you shake your head, face flushing. “Hm Y/N, what’s going through your head right now? “ Your flush only deepens and you can feel your face growing warmer. “My bed’s upstairs.” He nods slowly placing you back down onto the ground, he laughs slightly as you frown. “I’m not going to walk up the stairs with you, can’t risk hurting you.” “I thought you hated me.” “As you wish.” He nods bumping his forehead against yours. “Oh you caught on.” He smirks nodding at you, as he follows you up the stairs, you point towards your room waiting for him to tug you towards it, instead he pulls you back towards him, lifting you once again so you wrap your legs around him. He’s smiling when he kissed, pushing you against the wall next to your door.

“You’re mine.” He hums and you try not to moan when his grip around you tightens. “Say it.” He hums. “I’m yours.” You shiver as his hips press against you; as he walks with you still wrapped around him so he places you gently on the bed crawling on top of you. “You’ll be good for me?” You nod as he smirks leaning down to kiss you as he pulls your shirt up. “So pretty.” You turn your head away to avoid looking at him for the moment. “You know I’m right.” He smirks and you raise any eyebrow. “I guess, I mean the bra is pretty enough, it is why I bought it after all.” He shakes his head again. “Not what I meant.” “Oh?” you tilt your head smirking, shuffling slightly to sit up as you pull your shirt off and unhook your bra. “Did you mean this then?” You shift slightly; hand tilting his chin so he looks you in the face, he swallows nodding. “Hm sorry what was that, I couldn’t hear you.” “I hate you.” He huffs and you laugh nodding. “You know;” He starts kissing you on the lips for a moment before he moves downwards looking up at you from your chest. “I was going to ask if the bra was a matching set.” He nudges his fingers past the waistband of your leggings hesitating for a moment. “But?” He watches as you nod urging him to continue. “Since you got rid of it I guess we’ll never know.” He pulls his hands back moving his face back to yours to kiss you. Your hands snake around his neck pulling him closer and he breaks from the making out to change positions, so you now sit on top of him, he nudges your face back towards his, and you roll your hips a little as you kiss him. You smile satisfied at the muffled groan he makes. You repeat yourself smirking when he groans each time. “Well don’t you look pleased.” “Are you not having fun?” You shift slightly resting more on his legs lightly pressing your hand against the bulge in his jeans. He arches an eyebrow at you as you shimmy farther down hand moving to unbutton his jeans; he shakes his head pulling you back up so you rest straddling his hips. “Haven’t you ever heard of ladies first?” He pulls you back in for a kiss and you feel him flipping you so he once again hovers over you. “What do you want Y/N?” he hums into your ear as his hands tug at your leggings moving them off your hips and downwards. “You.” “Well you have me.” You huff at his answer, lifting your hips slightly and trying to pull your leggings off yourself. “Hold on.” He shifts on your bed, pulling both his shirt and jeans off as you discard your leggings. “So it is a matching set then.” He smirks fingers returning to the fabric of your underwear. “It makes me feel pretty.” “You really don’t need this to be beautiful to me, it’s just a bonus.” You flush embarrassed. “Well if I don’t need them on..” You trail off as you kiss him again, you can feel one of his hands moving down. “Are you sure?” You blink at him nodding. “Yes Sweet Pea, I want you, in anyway you want to give yourself to me.” He freezes at that, you watch his face flush and he swallows nodding slowly like he’s trying to compose himself. You give him a moment, just watching his face as he calms himself nodding once more and grinning up at you. “As you wish.” You smile about to quip back to him, but you hiss slightly, his fingers tracing against your underwear in between your legs. He looks entirely too pleased with himself as he moves from kissing at your neck and breasts lower until you can almost feel his tongue on your core. He pulls back and you frown about to complain before he nudges your underwear. “Off.” You waste no time pulling them off, fingers reaching for the edge of his boxers but he pushes your hands back. “Ladies first remember.” You nod. “Yeah clothes wise that’s been-“ “I wasn’t talking about the clothes Y/N.” He smiles as he kisses you, tongue parting your lips as you make out, one of his hands drifting lower once more, this time unobscured by the underwear now on the floor.  You moan into the next kiss his fingers brushing fully over your core. - You whine and squirm trying your hardest to bring him closer.  Sweet Pea laughs a little into the kiss pulling his head away, you huff when his hand pulls back as well, but watch in interest as his head drifts lower. You raise an eyebrow when he looks up at you from between your legs. “Figured you might hate me less after this.”  He smirks tongue darting out to replace where his hand had been. You close your eyes letting your head fall back onto the bed as Sweet Pea’s tongue finally touches the skin of your thigh. You yelp crying out as he sucks on your clit suddenly, before swiping his tongue in your folds and returning to draw circles around your clit as he slides a finger into you. He pauses once his finger is crooked inside you and you whimper slightly Sweet Pea smirking as he moves his finger against your walls. You can feel yourself tense and the warmth coiling inside you is pulled closer to its snapping point. He’s just barely brushing your sweet spot, watching you writhe as he teases you. He pulls back slightly and you yelp when you feel another finger pressing into you as his tongue covers your clit. “Come on love, just let go.” You whine writhing against Sweet Pea as he smirks up at you pausing his tongue’s movement. He moves his mouth down licking and sucking slightly which has you keening and arching your back off the bed. He hums against your clit and the vibrations send you over the edge that had been building since you’d entered the bedroom. You legs flutter slightly against Sweet Pea’s head as he pulls up, pressing sloppy kisses against your stomach and breasts, moving up the side of your neck, he bites down, rubbing his fingers against your oversensitive walls as he sucks a dark bruise into your neck. “Mine.” He hums into your skin nipping your collarbones and moves his mouth sucking a deeper bruise leaving you whimpering and on the edge of another orgasm as he continues to drive his fingers deeper and faster. - You hear Sweet Pea groan slightly and you cry out as you orgasm and clench around him as his tongue teases your clit. He looks slightly surprised and you flush all down your chest embarrassed. “Sorry I just, felt so good and I-“ “It’s okay sweetheart, it’s okay.” He pulls himself back up towards you kissing you, before he curls around you. “As much as I enjoyed that doesn’t seem fair on your end you know.” He nods nuzzling his face into your neck. “I’m not going to say no to anything.” “So we should put our clothes back on and learn how to pay taxes.” You laugh when he scowls. “You did say anything.” You tease him laughing, your hand reaching under his boxers to stroke his dick. He nods moving slightly to pull his boxer off, he’s about to return to his normal position on top of you but you stop him, shaking your head. He misreads it, about to grab his clothes but you nudge him so he’s back sitting on the bed as you straddle him. You grin yourself against his dick as he stutters slightly and moans when your hand reaches out to wrap around it; you move your hand against him a few times, making sure there’s enough wetness between you that you slide onto him effortlessly. “Fuck.” He hiss and you smirk moving your hips slowly as he does the same trying to match your rhythm together. -You’re sitting up more now, legs wrapped around his waist. You curl your head against his neck. “There’s a good girl. I’m going to move now is that-“ “Please.” You moan as he shifts his hips and moves slightly inside you. He leans you back intent on laying you down so he can watch as he thrusts into you. You hear the quiet curse as his dick slips out of you as you settle against the bed sheets. You bite your lip to keep from laughing as he reenters you. The laugh you’re trying to suppress turns into another moan as he speeds up smirking as you arch towards him. He’s moving in and out of you in a way that leaves you gasping and whining. Your nails scrape against this back as he speeds up.  His hand snakes behind your head pulling it closer towards his so he can kiss you, shifting your positions so he can hit deeper inside you. “Sweet Pea please.” You whine against him feeling yourself closer to orgasming again. “Not yet baby, can you be good for me and wait?” he pants slightly and you can tell he won’t last much longer. You nod as he sucks another bruise onto your neck, his thrust becoming more sudden and desperate until he finally orgasms inside of you leaving you shaking as his thumb slowly circles your clit, leaving you coming around him. “So;” You hesitate as Sweet Pea curls around you pulling a blanket over both of you. “Yes?” “You don’t hate me, just to be clear on that?” You watch, as he looks bemused as he laughs. “I’m pretty sure that proved I don’t hate you.” “Could’ve been a hate fuck.” You shrug and he pulls you against him. “I’m not built that way.” “You’re certainly built that’s for sure.” You laugh into is chest. You look up to see his face flushed. “What are you not used to compliments?” “Most people take one look at me being a Serpent and write me off as-“ “A massive cuddler who can’t take compliments, such a shame isn’t it.” You smirk as he tightens is arm around your waist. “Don’t know what you’re on about.”

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