#my pencil was running out while writing that also please do not ask why my handeriting is like that

[cable-salamdr]

Of course hold on @garmaballs

I hope the apology will be accepted by you and the wider internet please don’t cancel me /j

The lonely centerpiece of the party

[prettypei]

hii i enjoy your writing! may i request fluff drabbles for gojo, choso, yuta, noritoshi (kamo from the kyoto school) and hajime (aka kashimo the turquoise haired pikachu) please? like he's in an established relationship with reader and they're out on a cute date, being domestic and behaving like an old married couple. some ideas: ikea, grocery shopping, aquarium, art gallery, science museum/observatory etc

bonus if there are sweet romantic moments~ i'm fine with either fem or gender neutral reader, thank you i hope you'll consider my request! i just need something comforting to read bc shibuya arc has started in the anime while the manga is kinda at a tensed climax rn and i feel stressed lmao

plot: cute dates/domestic couple thingys with them!; fluff

reader: gn! Reader

characters: gojo, yuuta, choso, kashimo, kamo

warnings: yuutas kinda mean in this (but in a yuuta way)

(a/n): first req!!!!!! Hi hello anon I hope u like it 💪💪💪 gojo’s bento is very stereotypical Japanese LOL…KAMO IS SRSLY UNDERRATED!!!! Erm I also have like zero knowledge of flowers so sorry if it’s inaccurate, KAMOS IS SUPER CHEESY ENDING GBHBHJHHJHJH

✰CHOSO

Choso loves art. But he doesn’t only love art, he also loves you. So when you suggested to take him to the art museum for a date, he was overjoyed by the thought. But… he was embarrassed that you would see his drawings of you, so he hid it discreetly in his bag when you went to the museum. Yes, he paints you. Sketches you, even. But he’s way too shy to admit it, because god, he could never capture the way your eyes glinted or the way your smile stood out or the expression of pure bliss when he kissed you… he tries to avoid drawing you, but he can’t. You’re in every thought of his. And now, he’s trying to hide his notebook from you. He’s hugging it close to his chest, hiding it under his book bag as he mimicked the painting in front of him. It was a simple one, really…but it looked like it was missing something. He thought for a minute and his brain clicked. It was missing you. You would fit perfectly into it, since your eye color would stand out splendidly. He just finished drawing your face before… “whatcha doing?” He stumbles and knocks over his collection of colored pencils over the bench he was sitting on. “Nothing.” “Are you drawing something? Can I see it?” You ask excitedly. And honestly, could he ever say no to you? He mumbled a bit as he gave the book to you and started picking up the colored pencils, and you were surprised to see your own face staring back at you. “Is-is this me?” You smile. You flip through the book, and you noticed how your face was on almost every page. Choso looks up with a flustered face. “I-well-kinda? Yeah?” You drop down to the floor and hug him. “You’re so cute.” You mumble with a grin on your face. If he had known this would’ve made you like this he would’ve shown you this ages ago.

✰YUUTA

You and yuuta were at the grocery store, the second time this week, because food was running out again, since yuuta always insists on "buying just enough for both of us so we don't waste any food". If you didn't lie, you thought he quite enjoyed your silly little trips to the groceries. Even though the walk was short, you and yuuta often point out interesting things that cross your path. Last week you saw a dog wearing a fur coat, and just yesterday yuuta heard a construction worker whistle out the tune to "From the start" by Laufey. It's those simple things that quickly become inside jokes for the both of you. Upon arriving at the store, you usually follow yuuta as he shops for suitable groceries for today's lunch and dinner. But...after going shopping with him 3 times when you were dating, you noticed yuuta had a habit of looking at food labels. For a really long time. As yuuta examines the ingredients for the canned pineapples (why would you even need to do that? It's literally just pineapples!) you whine about how he's taking so long that you've started getting wrinkles. He then proceeds to give you a chuckle and a "wait a minute, love." and continue to read the can's contents. "(name)." He calls out your name in the most serious tone you've ever heard him in. "what?" He reaches into the cart and takes out a can of "grilled takoyaki balls: freshly made" and gives you a disgusted look. You shrug sheepishly.

✰GOJO

"(NAME)!!! (NAMEEEE)!!!" A tic almost forms at your forehead when you hear that sound, and, lo and behold, it is your husband once again embarrassing you in front of your co-workers. You walk over to him while crossing your arms. "What are you doing?" You hiss as the women (and men) all around you give you jealous looks. "Can't I surprise my darlin' at work once in a while?" He grins while holding up a bento box. Your eyes soften as you look at the homemade bento. Yeah, it probably tastes like shit cuz Gojo really can't cook, but...it's nice to see him put in an effort once in a while. "I wanna see your reaction when you eat it." He says stubbornly as he pulls your hand into the office building. "Oh boy." You think when Gojo shrugs off the security guard and waves to everyone as he waltzes into the lunch break room like he owns the place. He pulls a chair down for you and sits down in another one. "Open it, open it!" He smiles. You roll your eyes with a chuckle, and you're expecting to see some unidentified gunk, but to your surprise, it's a cute bento with sausages shaped like squid, egg rolls tucked in nicely next to the fried rice, and meat balls on a stick. “I made it four times, did you like it? And, well, I may or may have not made our kitchen a mess but it’s worth-“ You shut him up with a kiss.

✰KAMO

“Kamo, love?” “Yes, dear?” “Look at how gorgeous these Daffodils are!” You pick up a potted plant of them as Kamo miles at you. Going on dates to flower shops had become a routine for you and Kamo, since you both would do it weekly. “Yes, darling, they are beautiful. Not as beautiful as you though.” “Shut up.” You scoff as you roll your eyes and shove him playfully. Kamo has a wide knowledge about flowers, knowing what each of them symbolize and what they represent. Before dating Kamo, you would’ve never known that red, white and pink carnations had different meanings, or that white Hyacinths stood for loveliness. Most of the time on these dates you would stroll through each aisles, pointing out flowers or plants that you thought were cute. Kamo would then proceed to tell you the meaning. On the surface, it may seem like a repetitive action, but with Kamo, everything feels new and interesting. He may tell you a story about what this plant reminds him of, or about how this flower wilts to your beauty. At the end of every date (usually the shopkeeper has to kick you both out) Kamo buys you a bouquet of flowers, each symbolizing something about your relationship with one another. Even though sometimes the flowers wilt and you have to throw them away, he knows that his love for you never will.

✰KASHIMO

"Kashi! You look just like it!" Kashimo hums as he opens one eye to see you holding up a cat. You both are at a cat cafe, since you really do love cats and, well, Kashimo doesn't mind cats, really. But when he met you (a certified-cat-lover) his love for them had grown. Now, whenever he sees a stray cat on the street, he takes a picture and shows it to you. "Do I? Its hair's not green." He points out. "Well, it doesn't have to be! You and him both give off the same vibes! I just saw him standing on top of the bookshelf, thought it looked lonely." "You think I'm lonely?" He teases, getting down from his seat to sit on the floor with you. “Nah. You’re never lonely with me.” You grin. “Say hi to it!” “Hello.” He says with a deadpan face. “You have to be friendly with it!” “Hello.” He smiles an obviously forced grin. “😐” “I love you.” “Okay.” “C’mon, baby don’t be like that.” He smirks as he scoots in closer with you. You roll your eyes as you start playing with the cat. Kashimo’s eyes narrow as he snatch’s the cat away from your arms. “Hey!” “If you keep on playing with it more than me, I’m gonna think you were wishing you were dating it.” He ruffles its hair as he lets it go. “You’re so mean. It’s cute! Unlike you.” “Who exactly is the mean one?” You giggle and poke his cheek. “I’m joking, joking. I love you.” There’s a moment of silence as he takes in the words. “Well, I love you more. If this is a competition, I’m definitely gonna win.”

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Talks with Brothers

Author's note: More of Petras in Husbandry, Divergence AU. Thank you to @kit-williams, for letting me borrow Arnault. :)

Summary: Arnault finds out about the suspiciously accurate Serf’s outfit and gets the details out of Petras on who/how/where he got it. Petras takes his first tailoring commission, among other things.

Warning: Let me know if I need to add anything

Past =-= Next

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @ms--lobotomy , @thevoidscreams, @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis

Petras scowls at Arnault, who’s leaning in the entryway of the home he shares with his Bonded, and Arnault drawls out leadingly, “So…”

“Was?” He growls out scowling at Arnault. 

Petras had been forced to stop making another lovely gift for his Bonded because Arnault had randomly sent him a message saying that he was going to be stopping by. He’d sworn at his vox device before responding and not-stomping his way out to the living room begrudgingly let Arnault in.

“My Angela and Roland’s Backerin  were speaking with your Bonded recently,” Arnault says lightly, “She was wearing a Concubina Serf’s outfit.”

“... And what if it?” Petras asks.

“Where’d you get such an accurate re-creation of it?” Arnault asks, almost vibrating with how intense his curiosity and need to know.

“Why do you want to know?” Petras grumbles squinting suspiciously at Arnault. 

“Because, I want to commission and buy und outfit like that for my darling Angela.” Arnault replies, “I’m willing to pay a lot for the work. The materials are good quality und the outfit is durable, comfortable and could be used more than once.”

“I see,” Petras says, feeling a bit flattered and still suspicious.

“Please give me the address of the tailor- likey a brother or cousin from either mine or your Era, or somewhere inbetween to get it so period accurate,” Arnault continues speaking.

“... If I tell you who was the tailor,” Petras says, “You will keep your mouth shut about it, Ja?”

“Of course,” Arnault replies.

Petras squints at Arnault for a few moments before taking in a deep breath through his nose, “I was the one to make that outfit for my beloved.”

He crosses his arms and almost glares at Arnault, daring him to say something about it. Arnault pauses, and seems to be calculating something and The Emperor’s Champion asks, “Can I commission you for a Concubina Serf’s outfit?”

“I will need her exact measurements,” Petras says, “Und- if it doesn’t quite fit, I will have to have her come here to adjust the fitting of it. I am not going to bandy about this- this type of commission lightly to others.”

“Ja, ja,” Arnault says as he grabs a blank piece of paper and a pencil and writes his beloved Angela’s exact measurements from memory.

“Also a couple of follow up questions, before I go and make this outfit,” Petras says, “Are there kinds of clothes that she doesn’t like the feel of? What about you?”

“Nien, she can wear any kind of cloth and be content with it,” Arnault says with a shake of his head after thinking for a few moments to recall if she did or not. “I will pay you $6,000 for the outfit, half now, and half later.”

“Und you carry that amount of cash with you?” Petras says incredulously.

“Of course not!” Arnault says, “There is an… it’s called und ‘App’ for banking, I can wire you the money if we follow the process for it.”

“Fine,” Petras says with a grunt, he was also running low on money. While he worked semi-frequently at the Loyalist base as a Chaplain, his hours were odd, as he was not allowed to work certain shifts, likely due to those damned Primaris Marines. He got a small commission from the base. 

Another issue he had at that base is he is only earning a pittance of what he should earn as an Honorable Chaplain Captain, because of that damned near snake-like Ultramarine Apothecary Zariel.

Who had trapped him in his office and revealed the fact that the Apothecary had noticed and had video proof of Petras stealing from the medical store rooms, among other easily carriable valuables when ever he passed through the area (and needed some extra stuff to pay for The Excessive Delights). 

Not that the Damned Zariel knew about his deal with Zaarius. He was having half of his pay go to the ‘back taxes’ he owes for the theft of supplies. Also- in exchange for agreeing to certain terms and conditions, Zariel is willing to not Report this to higher command.

If Petras didn’t know better, he’d think that the damned Ultramarine Apothecary was actually a fuckign Hydra hiding as a damned Ultramarine. But- he hadn’t

But if he can do this tailoring commission well, perhaps he can get Arnault to buy more perverted clothing gifts for his Bonded. But that would be a later thing. Also- with that kind of cash he can pay for the Excessive Delights.

He hasn’t stolen from the Loyalist Bases nearby since he had more or less been forced to stay near Gannet Point because his beloved Bonded Whore did not want to travel around Ancient Terra.

Arnault flounces off and he heads back to the room and looks over the cloth that he’s got and how much he’ll need for the Commission and sighs to himself. He gets a chime on his phone- the money has gone through and he’s three thousand dollars richer.

Petras heads to the local shops for cloth and ribbon and what not, and notices Zaarius nearby. The Chaos Whore notices him and frowns at him, and heads over to where he is, “Hello Slaneshi Whore.”

“Petras- charming as ever,” Zaarius says mildly sarcastically, “I have noticed that you’ve remained near Gannet Point a lot longer than normal, any reasons why?”

“... I have an Intense Bond,” Petras grunts, “Just snap bonded, tried to leave, and nearly died, my Crusade dragged me back here and I… have been getting to know my Bonded.”

“Oh- congrats on getting Bonded!” Zaarius says blinking rapidly, but giving him a genuine smile at the news, also looking slightly relieved, for some reason.

Petras grunts a little as the Slanneshi whore flounces off to do, whatever the fuck it is he was doing before. He has grown to care for his Bonded Very Much- but if he had a way where he could have his Bonded and Zaarius service his cock.

Hrm. He thinks of cold showers and other displeasing things as he notices that his little sword was perking up at the thoughts that he’d had. Fucking Slanneshi Whore- how dare that Zaarius make him think of such lurid things in public.

Petras buys what he needs and heads back to his home with Beloved Bonded Whore and starts the commission. Carefully measuring, cutting and sewing Since he didn’t have work on The Base, he’s able to get the commission done surprisingly quickly.

He double checks that it’s fully completed and that it’s ready. He wraps it up in some of the left over tissue paper and a brown paper bag that he’d used to drag the cloth from the store into the home.

Petras sends a vox message to Arnault, [The commission is done. Pick it up before my Beloved comes off work. She finishes work and comes home in two hours.]

[I will be over at your place in half an hour.] Is Arnault’s prompt response.

[Excellent.] Petras retorts.

Almost half an hour later he hears a knock on the front door and he opens it and nods to Arnault and hands over the brown paper bag. “It’s done. Have her test fit it- and let me know if adjustments need to be made.”

“Danke bruder,” Arnault says, and taps on his Astarte’s sized device and Petras gets a ping on it-  the other half of the payment has gone through. “I’ll let you know if any adjustments are needed after I have her take it for a test run.”

“You’re welcome, bruder.” Petras says. “You came earlier than I thought you would.”

“Why does that bother you?” Arnault asks.

“I have a meeting with someone else soon.” Petras says casually as he waves a hand off, “no one that you know, at least I don’t think that you do.”

“Oh?” Arnault asks, suddenly curious, despite not wanting to be near Petras all that much.

“Ja- some of my Crusade are visiting,” Petras says as he locks the door behind him as he heads off- not quite realizing that Arnault is following after him.

“You hypocrite,” Arnault says.

“Was?” Petras says with a scowl, “do you mean by that?”

“You excommunicated me und Roland for accepting our Bonds!” Arnault flares, “And yet- you are not from your Crusade.”

“There are more reasons as to why you were Excommunicated,” Petras reminds the other, “Those books are another part of it.”

“Roland refused to abandon me or his Bond,” Arnault says hotly, “And -”

He cuts himself off as he sees a pair of Black Templars wander over towards them, one a Scout, another one an Apothecary, but they aren’t Black Templar’s he recognizes.

“Kestorn, Alexried,” Petras says warmly, “How have the two of you been doing?”

“We have been doing well,” Kestorn says, “Who’s this, brother?”

“This is Arnault- yes that one.” Petras says, cutting off Alexried from asking a question.

“Oh,” The younger Space Marine says quietly.

“Alexi has been doing better since he has started talking to his Bonded,” Kestorn says, watching Petras, “Even though his bond isn’t Intense, he’s doing a lot better.”

“... That is good to know.” Petras replies, ignoring the whole that Arnault is staring into the side of his head.  “I think you should be careful with the witch-bond Alexried.”

“I have been, sir, “Alexried says with a dutiful bow of his head, “They… don’t seem to be a Chaos Abomination.”

“That is good to know,” Petras says, “Perhaps one day, I could meet them.”

“... Perhaps once they are more settled,” Kestorn interjects.

“Very well,” Petras says with a shrug as he continues to walk with Kestorn and Alexried, Arnault has headed off to go find his beloved Angela and shower her with affection, attention and this wonderfully hand made gift.

Arnault really doesn’t like Petras, he’s a right shitty asshole, but it is nice getting to meet someone else who understands in ways that most do not. 

She feels the cum ooze down her front and all she does is button the blouse back up before getting pulled into his lap as he kisses the back of her head.

As he coos his tender affections to her in high gothic as her tongue feels so imperfect for him to tell her how he feels... he will have to rectify her not being able to understand his devotionals but until then he just holds her close.

You smile up at him, you can tell by the tone of his voice, which is subtly warmer and softer, that he's saying nice things about you, or something. You have been trying to learn Gothic- but languages have never been something you were good at learning.

[dinkydonky]

A cheerful hymn

"Jareth X reader who sings under her breath while working or out loud if she thinks she’s alone, and Jareth hearing her for the first time"

I'm making this one gender neutral just so everyone can read!! Also Y/N is a writer hehe

~~

I sat alone in my room tapping my pencil on my desk trying to come up with a good concept for my next novella. I write these small books for the goblins, as I'm quite fond of them and they need a break or two every now and then to do things on their own. But now, I've hit a wall in my mind. I just can't seem to create a solid plot anymore. I started to hum a small tune out of boredom just to fill the silence. It slowly turned into a little song after a while. I sang quietly, under my breath so Jareth couldn't hear from his throne room. I was embarrassed of my voice. His was so gorgeous I didn't want him to judge me.

"Y/N?" Jareth said as he walked into my room. I was startled because I was rather lost in thought when he suddenly walked in. Luckily I stopped singing before he could hear.

"Sorry, uh... You startled me a little, what is it, honey?" I asked.

"I just wanted to come in and say hi. You look tired, need a break?" He replied. God, he was so sweet.

Looking back at my blank paper I've been staring at for the past hour, I decided he was right.

"I suppose I do need a break. I'm not getting any writing done." I sigh as I get up out of my chair and take Jareth's cold and slender hand.

-- time skip --

I whistled as I organized all of my pens and pencils which were skattered across my pale white desk. Jareth was out running errands so it was just me in our castle. As I cleared my desk, I started to sing a little tune I had written for one of my books. It was a cheerful little hymn and I sung it louder and louder without even noticing.

I continued singing when I heard a soft knock on the door. I abruptly stopped and opened the door. It was Jareth.

"I heard you singing." He purred. He flashed you a smile before hugging you closely.

"Oh, lord I'm sorry you had to hear that... I'm certain I was off key or something." You blushed.

Jareth broke the hug briefly and held your shoulders, looking you right in the eyes. "Now what do you mean? That was a stunning little song you were singing. Why don't you ever share your talents with me?"

"Well, you know, your voice is just so beautiful and well, compared to yo-"

He shushed you.

"Don't talk like that, star. Your singing voice is just as magical as mine. I would love to sing with you. Whenever you like. Now, don't be shy, finish your number."

~~

The end!!

Please give me more requests I'd love to answer them 🩷🩷

[diagonal-queen]

The Flags in Highschool

♡ characters: Pianoman, Albatross, Doc, Lippmann, Iceman

♡ synopsis: What type of student would each of the Flags be in highschool?

♡ cw: Swearing, Lippmann is nonbinary cry about it, mentions of vapes

note: I have no idea where this came from. I guess my need for Flags content is taking over my brain lmao (I promise I won't only write Stormbringer content from now on I pinky swear) and I know I have tons of stuff still in my inbox from ages ago that you guys requested. I HAVE seen them and I do plan on writing them. At this point in time I'm just sapped dry of any inspiration, so sometimes I just need to get whatever I can. This time around it was flag shit. I apologise for the wait and I love all of you. Apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

Pianoman (the prep)

Definitely the leader of whatever student council is at the school he attends (unanimous vote)

He is always on top of his shit. He never gets detention, never turns in any late assignments, never gets into any fights

Has extra supplies for people who've forgotten theirs, from spare pens and pencils to spare tampons for the period-havers

Is the kid that your parents compare you to and say 'why can't you be more like him' (if your parents are anything like mine, anyway)

Helps people study and write notes for exams- he has a collaborative doc that nobody ever needs to edit because the notes are always perfect

Is the one that has to show the new kids around because he makes the student body look really good lmao

Hosts every single event, fundraiser, volunteers a lot

Though he looks like he knows what he's doing he definitely doesn't get enough sleep

So he has a very concerning coffee dependence- probably drugs himself up on caffeine to get through exam weeks (please someone tell him to stop)

He might be generally nice and an academic but he also has blackmail on basically anyone who's ever crossed him so...don't get on his bad side I guess

Albatross (the goofball)

The class clown that everybody loves even though he's a little piece of shit

Definitely bounces from clique to clique, cus he's friends with literally everyone lmao. Even the kids who don't even like him are willing to have him around

Is the reason why Pianoman began bringing spare supplies to school (he fully gets by by just borrowing other people's things)

Never wears his uniform correctly, and is always getting in trouble for it with his teachers, but he never changes anything

He skips classes ALL THE TIME and doesn't bother to hide it. If you have a free period and decide to go to the store for something you'll more than likely find him vaping out the front lol

(Sorry yall he just seems like the type of guy who vapes- I do not endorse the use of e-cigarettes. There now you can't sue me)

Spreads insane rumours about himself because he thinks it's funny, and then acts shocked when people ask him about said rumors

Always has food/snacks in class and teachers are far past trying to stop him from eating while in class

He's so good at P.E. it's kinda scary. He can throw, run, swim, kick...everyone wants him on their team

If there was ever a Matilda-style student uprising...we all know who's leading it lmao

Doc (the weird kid)

Okay when I say weird kid I don't mean 'kid who crosses your name off the list when you're nice to him'

I mean 'kid who sniffs glue and knows too much about WW2'

Doc is absolutely the type to get straight As without putting in even a LICK of effort. He just never studies, and he never helps anyone else study either

A bit of a wallflower, but he's by no means a bad guy. He's just kinda offputting at first

A little bit too enthusiastic about the science classes where he gets to dissect small animal corpses (he's really good at it it's frightening)

Brings his own lunch from home

Always in the nurse's office, he keeps other sick students company (he's exempt from P.E.)

He's like reverse gifted kid burnout- when he was younger he was a late bloomer but now he's one of the smartest kids in the grade

Even though people don't spend time with him they don't wanna get on his bad side because they know he's gonna become some world-renowned doctor after school and they don't wanna deal with that karma. Plus he's a little bit creepy

Nobody knows ANYTHING about his home life

Lippmann (the popular/theatre kid)

You might be thinking that 'popular kid' and 'theatre kid' contradict one another but you'd be surprised. Everyone LOVES this guy

The lead in every single school play regardless of what type of character they are (gender and body type mean nothing to him)

Also lowkey kind of a whore. He's probably dated most of his peers and yet they're all still enamoured with him

Probably has a super high follower count on Instagram (why are highschoolers so obsessed with Insta)

Kinda friends with all the teachers and so people call him a teacher's pet/tryhard (i'm TOOOOTALLY not projecting here)

One of the first kids to come out as queer (nonbinary) so he supports other kids and helps them with their own sexuality/identity

Though he mediates when his classmates fight, he secretly LOVES the drama and lowkey wants to be an enabler (but that would ruin his reputation)

Definitely comes from a rich family and probably helps fund the school- gets a lot of awards for nepotism reasons

Has tons of potential with his academics but never utilises it- he's more comfortable not studying and getting 80% than studying and getting 90%

Gets voted most likely to be famous in the yearbook

Iceman (the scary dog)

He's actually really good at school and gets pretty good grades. How does he do this? You'll never know

Always sits in the back of the class, but he's not bothering anyone back there so teachers don't care. In fact they'd probably rather have him back there because even they're kinda scared of him

Also knows a concerning amount about WW2, but it's less the gory gore stuff and more the war-y war stuff

Surprisingly good at humanities subjects. Never try to get into a political argument with him because he has his sources CITED

Though he's really scary and not many people would willingly approach him, he's actually really nice and gentle

Stands up for kids who get bullied and checks in on them sometimes

Scholarship kid

Likes loitering in the library and reads a lot in his spare time (he has tons of overdue library books to return)

If a bird or a bug or something flies into the classroom he's the one who's always designated to pick it up and gently guide it back outside

Always argues with teachers if they say homophobic/sexist/racist things and gets in trouble for it but doesn't care (a king)

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl

[twstbookclub]

How Oblivious Are You?

Summary: Cater helps you figure out your feelings for someone, but you're oblivious and his patience is really running low POV: 2nd POV Pronouns: Gender Neutral Admin/Writer: Kai ⚔ Tags: Cater Diamond, Platonic, Crackhead writing, unserious, i didn't take this fic seriously with proper grammar, it's supposed to make you laugh, Cater is my spirit animal, oblivious reader, will this get continued??? Word Count: 993

Cater sat criss-crossed on your bed, and stared blankly at you with his eyebrows raised. He was there for one reason and one reason only: talk to you and see what the gossip around the Heartslabyul dorm was about.

Just minutes before, he sent you a text saying, "I'm on my way." Those words? Didn't mean anything. He was already busting your door down by the time you read it.

"Cater..?" You asked while also staring dead into his eyes. You were nervous as to why he was there.

"So, my eyes and ears have been catching some behavior from someone we know. Do you know something?"

"Huh? Someone we know?"

"Mhm, but that's not what I want to ask. Do you have a crush on anyone, Prefect?" Cater tilted his head, a mischievous smile on his face.

You blushed at his question and thought about it openly.

"Well… I’m not exactly sure if I do…" You looked at Cater for a reaction, only to be met with a frustrated look in his eyes as he squinted.

"And who is this "not exactly sure"??" He tilted his head, anticipating an answer.

"It's complicated-"

"OH MY SEVEN. GIVE ME A NAME."

"DEUCE SPADE!"

You blurted and even surprised yourself. Deuce? Why did you say Deuce if he hadn't shown interest in you? Or did he? Seven, this was new to you too.

Cater was silent, but he stood up from your bed. Tension was so thick that a knife couldn't even compare for a way to cut it.

"Deuce…"

Cater walked around your room, slowly, and it felt suffocating. You couldn't read his thoughts like you usually could.

"And you didn't tell me?!"

"I didn't know!"

"Deuce never showed interest!"

"How could you not know?"

"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding with me."

"What? I don't see any indication that he has!"

Cater's jaw dropped. Not in shock, but in utter offense.

"Seven, give me patience…" He sighed and rubbed between his eyes. He blinked a few times to gather his thoughts.

"Okay," Cater started. "There is a reason you said his name, and even if you don't know that reason. I'm gonna tell you straighter than a piece of pencil led."

You listened carefully with a small head nod.

Cater put on a sweet, soft smile. His eyes also smiled as he placed his hands on your shoulders so gently as if you were a glass painting.

You returned his smile, but something in your gut was screaming "RED ALERT, RED ALERT" at 100 miles an hour to run.

Cater's expression turned into a dead-eyed look after, faster than you could process.

"HE HAS LIKED YOU FOR SEVEN KNOWS HOW LONG. HE WALKS YOU TO CLASS. WILL BUY YOU SNACKS FROM THE SHOP. DENIES EVERY OTHER BEING ALIVE. DEUCE. LOVES. YOU. CAN'T YOU SEE IT? HOW ARE YOU SO DENSE? I THOUGHT HE WAS DENSE, BUT HE CLEARLY HAS COMPETITION. YOU BOTH ARE PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER."

Your body was shaken like some kind of life-size doll. Cater was merciless on you with how blunt he was. It felt like a major whiplash. Still, he wasn't done.

"YOU BOTH HAVE BEEN FLIRTING. THE BEHAVIOR I HAVE WITNESSED WAS FROM HIM, AND HE WANTS TO ASK YOU OUT, BUT THE GUY DOESN'T KNOW HOW. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?"

He finally lets you go, but not without helping you get back on your feet. You felt dizzy and your insides felt like they'd been turned into a milkshake.

It was a bit scary to see Cater in such a way, but you couldn't leave him hanging either.

"I mean, I don't know! This is new, and my brain feels like mush after being shaken like a snowglobe!"

"Alright! Fine. What do you want me to do?"

"Oh! I'm sorry! Please allow me to ease your pain and get rid of your woes with a pain relieving spell!" His sarcasm made you groan and try to think.

"Tell me what you think about Deuce," Cater suggested while pulling out his phone, opening a notes app.

"Well…"

"Well? It's just you and me in this room. Let it all out."

"Okay, okay. No more stalling."

You took a breath and let your emotions speak.

"I don't mind that Deuce is the only one who puts his attention on me. I don't mind that he buys only me snacks, but I did find it weird how he always rejected everyone else, yet would always accept my request."

Cater listened and wrote down your points, but then stopped halfway, letting you continue.

"He's nice, and sweet. Caring, funny, a bit of a troublemaker, but that's not a problem at all… I did question at one point why my heart would race whenever he was close to me, or why I would feel jealous if he suddenly got pulled away from my side. I just always thought this was normal, but I still don't know what it is."

You let out a sigh of relief as you felt a heavy weight was being lifted off your shoulders after revealing your emotions. You looked at Cater to see his reaction…

Only to be met with a Cater giving you a look that says, "There is no way you didn't know."

"What?"

"You like Deuce, dude."

"Is that what that is?"

"WHAT? YOU STILL—OH MY SEVEN."

Cater turned you around and pushed you out of the door, making your body face the Heartslabyul dorms.

"Go. March onward to the past delinquent, and ask him out. Just go 'Deuce, go out with me' and all is solved. Go on." His voice mimicked your own as he pushed you, closing the door.

"And don't come back until you ask him, I'll be watching you…"

He said the last part with an ominous tone and you quickly walked off to Heartslabyul, and going off to quickly find Deuce.

Well. Here goes nothing.

[floralcyanide]

hii can you please do a scenario/fic with austin! elvis or actual elvis where you're sitting in his lap doing his eyeliner? it can be fluff, smut, whatever but i will literally worship the ground you walk on and gift you my firstborn 🥰✨

Jet Black - Austin Butler!Elvis NSFW Blurb

>> hello anon! thanks for the request B) this will be my first time writing for Austin Butler!Elvis so I’m excited!! the whole eyeliner idea is just,,, I’m weak at the knees rn. anyway,, without further ado!! (reader is gender-neutral, also reader is shorter than Elvis obviously because he’s v tall) also I'm sorry this is kinda short!!

pairing: Austin Butler!Elvis x reader

warnings: light smut, nsfw, 18+ only please, (minors dni!!), lap sitting, the works.

word count: 1172

send me requests in my ask box please!!

Elvis stared intensely into his reflection in the mirror while trying his best to hype himself up. He was standing in the main area of the motel room with every light on after struggling to apply his notable eyeliner with the bathroom’s dim lighting. He had decided that the lighting was why he had such a hard time with his reasonably simple look. Luckily, there was still quite some time before the performance, so Elvis was focused on getting the look right. Meanwhile, you were sitting on the chair, flicking through a magazine and glancing up at your boyfriend now and then. After a few moments of silence, your attention was caught by a low growl as Elvis frustratedly rubbed away the messy liner for the umpteenth time. Sighing, you stood up and walked over to where he stood in his eye-catching pink pants and black shirt.

“Honey, do you need help with this?” you smiled sweetly at him, softly taking the eyeliner pencil from his fingers before he could protest.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with this damned eyeliner,” he mumbled, facing away from the mirror in defeat.

“Maybe it’s not the eyeliner,” you said, drawing a straight black line across the top of your hand with the pencil, “Maybe you’re just nervous.”

“Nervous?” Elvis scoffed, turning back to the mirror and running his hands over his hair.

You rolled your eyes. It was just like him to act like nothing was wrong, but you saw right through it like always. This was his first performance after That’s Alright Mama hit the radio stations, so it was a big deal for him. It was normal for him to be nervous, but your boyfriend was truly anything but normal.

“I’ll be right back,” you kissed his cheek, giving him the eyeliner to hold while you head to the bathroom.

Rummaging through your makeup bag, you found your makeup remover and some cotton balls before walking back to the living room. As you approached Elvis, he had once again tried and failed his eyeliner. 

“Babe, let me try?” you suggested, pushing some hair out of his face before he got more aggravated. 

“Alright, darlin’,” he said defeatedly.

You took some makeup remover and applied it to the cotton ball, softly running it over Elvis’ eyelids to take off the awfully smudged eyeliner, “There. Now we have a clean slate.”

Taking the pencil from him once again, you started to apply the eyeliner, except you couldn’t get close enough because he was so much taller than you. You frowned, standing on your tip-toes, still trying to reach his eyes. Elvis even leaned down with a chuckle to try and help you.

“You know what, how about you sit down, and I try to do it that way,” you motioned to where you were previously sitting. 

Elvis did as told, walking over to the chair and taking a seat as he waited for you to walk over to him. He didn’t expect what you did next, however. You stood before him and pressed your knee into the cushion next to his thigh. Balancing your hands on Elvis’ shoulders, you did the same with your other knee on the other side of his lap. You then sat on his thighs with no problem, leaning in close to his face to begin the eyeliner.

Elvis cleared his throat as a nervous laugh bubbled up his chest, “Well, that’s one way to do it.”

His legs were spread slightly, so you had to put your center weight on his pelvis, much to his enjoyment. The pink skirt you were wearing to match his outfit was pooled around you perfectly. Unfortunately, Elvis could only relish in the sight for a moment before you made him close his eyes. He tried his hardest not to move his eyelids as you carefully slid the pencil across the delicate skin. The feeling of you pressing all of your weight on him, the softness of your movements, and the warmth of your hand on his jaw to hold his face still was very overwhelming. He needed to move a little. Elvis was never one to hold completely still. He moves his hips slightly, not completely thinking about how it’d feel with you in his lap. 

Your careful eyeliner precision ceased for a moment when your boyfriend’s clothed crotch made contact with yours briefly. Your eyes widened a little at the feeling, and Elvis opened his eyes when he realized you had stopped applying the makeup. 

“Everything okay, darlin’?” he asked quietly, his lips in close proximity to yours.

Your gaze never left his, “Yeah, everything is fine,” you exhaled, repositioning yourself a little, once again causing some friction.

Elvis shut his eyes instantly as his hands flew to your hips to still your movements. The feeling of his fingers pressing into your sides caused warmth to spread across your body. Feeling bold, you put all of your weight onto his bulge, leaning forward to finish the eyeliner while pressing yourself into him. Elvis dug his fingers deeper into your skirt-covered flesh as the urge to buck his hips became stronger as each second passed. Despite the physical position you were in with your boyfriend, you had the determination to finish the eyeliner. But you wanted to tease him a little more while you did so.

You moved your hips into a circular motion very slowly, biting your lip as you gauged Elvis’ reaction underneath you. His hips begin moving in the same fashion, matching your movements.

“I’m almost done, baby,” you say nonchalantly, biting back a moan as you focused on finishing the smudging of the liner around his eyes, “Can you open your eyes?”

Elvis opens his eyes, his pupils blown and lids heavy as he stares at you. The black makeup around his eyes adds intensity to his stare. You timidly wipe a finger underneath his eyes to finish the look, your other hand still holding his jaw. 

“Finished,” you said, not moving away from his face.

Moving his hands from your hips to your face, Elvis pulls you closer as his lips meet yours feverishly. Both of you were still swiveling your hips at a slow pace, and now that you didn't have to worry about poking his eye out, you moved more freely. He took the opportunity to bite at your bottom lip as you gasped at the feeling of his growing bulge pressing into your core. The two of you were rudely interrupted when the clock began striking, signaling that the two of you needed to get ready to leave for the gig.

You reluctantly pulled away from the kiss but kept your face close to Elvis’.

“Time to go,” you frowned, “But at least your eyeliner looks good.”

He hummed in agreement as he slowly lifted you off of his lap, “Thanks to you, baby,” He kisses you once more before walking over to the mirror to readjust himself for what would be his first great performance. 

[lunatic-flores]

𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔.

𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 : (𝘠/𝘕) has inability to talk to the elders since Alma put her too much pressure since she was little, and that almost break the relationship of her and her mother.

→ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 : 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊.

⊰᯽⊱┈──╌❊╌──┈⊰᯽⊱

A new day, a new expressive poem that has slipped under Julieta's door. She had no idea who has been give her this beautiful words, either it's long or short. She needs to remember her husband that she is sure that she don't have a single admirer.

“Another one?” Agustin asks while searching his glasses and then glance at his wife, Julieta can only chuckled and nodded her head as she take the crumbled paper with a tiny bow on the upper left.

“they're really good at hiding themselves.” Julieta respond while reading the lovely fresh poem that's just for her and her only.

---

Your love was like moonlight

turning harsh things to beauty,

so that little wry souls

reflecting each other obliquely

as in cracked mirrors ... beheld in your luminous spirit

their own reflection,

transfigured as in a shining stream,

and loved you for what they are not.

You are less an image in my mind

than a luster

I see you in gleams

pale as star-light on a gray wall

evanescent as the reflection of a white swan

shimmering in broken water.

---

“Well, at least this one is very lovely.” Julieta laughs as her husband gave her a kiss on the cheek and then the two of them started to do their chores as usual. Julieta's day seem to be brighter and more brighter after an accident happened to her.

“what is going on here?”

“Tía! We uh— ... We might have accidently dropped some of your glass bowls .. Anduh- yeah, that's all hehe.” Camilo tried to explain - not wanting to get a heavy punishment, but his prima, his quite prima is also part of the accident.

Her eyes moved to the broken bowls and then she spot her very first bowl that she used to try her gift. Camilo and (Y/N) could see that the dissapoiment and Sadness are fillong the older woman's eyes.

For some reasons, They couldn't talk. And it's very overwhelming.

“Let's just— help me clean these things, please.” Camilo swear that he saw his prima is sweating nervously as heck. Her face is quickly turned very pale making him worried, “Uh ... Mi Prima? Are you—”

“Todo está bien.” with that, she immediately left to grab a broom and clean the mess, not letting Camilo help her either. After cleaning the mess, the two of them apologized to older woman “We are so sorry, Tía Julieta. We promise that we will not break anything ever again.”

(Y/N) nod her head furiously as she tried to avert her gaze to somewhere else. Not brave enough to let out a single word to her mother while fidgeting her fingers nervously.

“It's alright, you two can go now.” with that, (Y/N) immediately run out of the kitchen leaving Camilo behind.

At first, Julieta thought that the person is her own daughter who never spoke to anyone since she was twelve. She's not very talkative. She won't talk unless it's necessary like a conversation about the family.

But it's no use since she never saw a single paper or pencil that she had to use if she wanted to write anything in her daughter's room.

Is it Mirabel?

“Huh? What poem? I haven't write anything yet for the exciting day!”

Then, is it Isabela?

“I am so sorry mamá, but i'm really busy that i don't have a chance to write a letter even it's for you. Maybe it's Luisa, since she haven't gave you something new?”

Luisa—

“Mamá. I don't even have a pencil and a paper.”

Julieta sighs in defeat. The writing style is unfamiliar to her, that's what make it more difficult. Why don't she just ask the children to write and check their writing style? —

“Oh wait, i think that would work. If the person is not from this family, then it really is from someone else - i think Agustin will be the one who search them up for me.”

✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁

“Oh oh! Are we going to write a letter to each other?” Antonio asks his aunt excitedly as he grab his pencil, “Hm, yes - of course we will! Since we have a free time, why don't we spend it together?”

Julieta had to dragged brought the adults to join her too, she just wants to see their writing style too. Not only the children. “how about a poem?” Dolores question making Julieta's attention immediately moved to her.

“Of course, you can write a poem too!”

As she finished, her gaze kept wandering to one by one. But none of them showing any suspicions to her. This is very difficult. But little did she know, one of her dear daughter is now sweating. Her hands are wet. Her heart beat so fast making Dolores glance at (Y/N).

Before she could asks her prima, (Y/N) shot up while breath in then out and showed her stoic face as if nothing happened to her. And then she just started writing leaving Dolores drowned in confusion.

‘What just happened to her?’

Right now, (Y/N) is debating with herself in her mind. What is she going to write? A poem like she used to write for her mother? But she's afraid of getting caught. She never apologized properly, and she wants to take baby steps.

‘I am screwed.’

(Y/N) decided to change her writing style, and surprisingly, it goes well. And it's quite different from the style she used to. Slowly, a small smile crept on her face ashe began to write a short letter.

Letting her hands dancing with the pencil on the paper, slowly but surely. It is very expressive words. After everyone is done, Julieta still can't find the mysterious person. It is decided.

The person is from the village. Not her family. But who in the world loved her platonically? Is it the orphanage children? No, she don't think so.

She sighs in defeat, making her daughters look at her worriedly. “Hey, do any of you have any idea what makes mom look confused right now?” Isabela asks her sisters quitely, making sure that the others doesn't hear them. Luisa began to think and then shake her head “Nope, but she looks fine for these past few days to me.” she reponds.

“Huh, then what about you Mirabel?” Isabela turn to her youngest sister, “I don't know, but all i know that mom has gotten one or two poems everyday in the morning for these past few weeks.” The youngest answered while glancing at her mother.

“A poem? ... So that's why she wants us to write anything so she can match the writing style, huh?” Isabela mutters and then searching for her another sister. Unfortunately, (Y/N) stood up and then left the living room first.

“Uh ... Why is she so quite and hurry?” Luisa asks that notices her sister's curiousity, “Mamá said she's not very talkative, but i l've once read her letters that is sooo expressive and it's very touching!” Mirabel yelled-whispers excitedly. “it's like — She's the silent words, y'know?”

And that clicked the three of them, “Hey, don't you think that the person who gave mom poems every morning is ... Her?” Dolores, the cousin who heard their conversation decides to joined them.

“What poem?” Isabela jumped at her sudden presence and then sighs, “Dios mio, Dolores. Don't scare me like that again!” “Oops, Lo siento.”

Mirabel explained everything to her prima and then letting her think for a moment, “Sometimes, i do hear someone is writing. But i am not sure who is it since they keep changing their place to write.” Isabela widen her eyes.

“(Y/N)!”

She exclaimed loudly making the other's attetion turned to her, also making Dolores closed her ears “Oh uh— ... Sorry.”

“Wait, so it's really (Y/N)?” Mirabel asks in more quite tone, “Are you sure about that? Because ... You know, she don't have any pencil and papers.” Luisa add in, “Unless she buy some.” Dolores fold her arms.

“Yes, and i'm sure it's really her.” Before she continue, (Y/N) quickly ran inside the living room again and take her bag. “Oh (Y/N)! We were just about to—”

Luisa is cut off when (Y/N) immediately left the room again, but the thing is, she accidently drop a single paper from her bag. Making Isabela quickly take it with her vines, “Oh look, she drop this.”

Dolores let out a quiet “hm!” in response. “Is that a ... Poem?” Mirabel take the paper from her hermana and then they read it together.

---

Call out, Call loud : “I'm not ready, and don't come find me!”

The sacks in the toolshed smell like the trash seaside.

They’ll never find you in this blackhole salty dark,

You’ve never heard them sound so silent hushed before.

Don’t breathe. Don’t move. Stay dumb. Hide in your blindness.

---

"It's like— she's hiding? There are some typos too.”

"What are you guys reading?” Camilo asks suddenly making them jumped and Isabela surprise him with her flowers.

“We are having girls talk, now shoo shoo.” Camilo rolled his eyes and then walk away in flamboyant, “i think we need to go to somewhere more quite.” Luisa recommended and then the four of them started to leave the living room as they excused themselves.

“Or ... Should we find (Y/N) instead?” “No, i don't think so. She'll freak out and teleport to somewhere we don't know.” Isabela read the paper once again and then they finally arrive at the quite place.

At least not too noisy for dear Dolores.

“Right, i almost forgot her gift is teleportation.” Mirabel mumbles, “but the poem says ‘I'm ready and come find me.’ i think she wants us to find her and talk to her?”

“Hm, but why don't she?” Dolores asks as she tilt her head to the side.

“It's because i'm not good at taking the conversation.” someone suddenly answered making the four of them look at the person. There, stood a young girl who is shaking, and quite messy. Maybe she's not using her gift and keep running for her life.

“H-Hola.” she muttered.

“(Y/N)! So it's really you!” Mirabel quickly throw herself to her hermana and let (Y/N) catch her without second thought. (Y/N) yelped and then hold her sister carefully, “I— ... Y-yes, i'm the one who ... Write those p-poems. I couldn't apologize properly to ... Mamá.” She rub her arms nervously after letting Mirabel go.

“So that's why the letters are so expressive because the person is having an inability to talk to the elders, huh?” Isabela add in.

“That's— ... You're right, Isabela.” (Y/N) sighs in defeat as she sat with the girls and take out her paper and pencil from her bag.

“Why don't you just talk to her, ya know, heart-to-heart?” Luisa asks curiously as she pat (Y/N)'s back, trying to ease her down.

“I can't, Luisa. It's hard, very hard. But i ... I tried my b-best, you know? I Uh— ... i just couldn't say it that easy.” Mirabel began to think in anticipate and then an idea came immediately, “You know what? You need to leave some hints here and there.”

“How—”

“Leave your name, letter by letter. And let mom collect it until your name is completed!” (Y/N) widen her eyes and then began to shake again, “W-what if she ... want to talk with me? I- i ... I couldn't—"

“Just take your time. Mamá will understand you, hermana.” Isabela hold her sister's hand and Dolores nod her head in agreement. “Just remember that she is not like abuela just because she's her daughter.” Dolores rub her back in circles.

Right.

Julieta is not like Alma.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. (Y/N) smiled at her hermanas and prima as she nod her head, without a second, the girls give her a big hug making her let out a pure laugh.

✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁

“Oh? I think they're leaving some hints.” Julieta read the poem again while stacking the poems and put it all together. ;

---

Once upon a memory

Someone wiped away a tear

Held me close and loved me,

The values you've have taught,

the care you've have given,

and the wonderful love you've shown,

Have enriched my life

in more ways than I can count.

I owe you an eternal paradise.

— Your dearest, (n).

---

Julieta was touched by the words. There's no possibility that this person loved her in romantic way, they adore her in sweetest platonic way.

She noticed that each poems had single letter in the end. That clicked her brain, she quickly put the letters all together and a name was completly written. “(Y/N)..?”

She remembered the accident day and since then her daughter began to feel more anxious and quite. She wipe her hands after making arepas and quickly left the kitchen in order to find her quite daughter.

“Ay, (Y/N).” she muttered worriedly.

Dolores who heard the whole muttering decide to inform her primas, “She's going to find (Y/N).” the girls stare at (Y/N), “w-what?”

“Prepare yourself, hermana.” Isabela pat her head even though she's quite taller than her. “Oh no, i don't think i can talk properly to her.” Mirabel smack her arm playfully, “Come on, don't be so pessimist! You'll be fine.”

“We'll be waiting for you when you're done.” Luisa chuckled at her sister's nervousness. It remembered her the day where she's feeling weak.

“I— uh— ... BUT—” (Y/N) was immediately cut off by her youngest sister.

“Casita.” Mirabel spoke in sudden before (Y/N) tries to escape by herself.

The floor started to move just to send (Y/N) out from the nursery, (Y/N)'s eyes shift to her mother's presence who is now searching for her. “Dios—... Dios, dios, dios—” she kept muttering and ran to find a hiding spot.

Instead of searching a safe place, she accidently bumped into her Tía Pepa who has a dark stormy cloud above her head, and later, she got strucked by one of her lighting that completely making her jolts in pain.

“i— i'm .. totally fine— ... ” her face immediately fall on the flat floor.

“JULIETA!!!” Pepa screamed in purest panic, making all the members of the family ran to her and only found (Y/N) laying on the floor.

“Oh.” Mirabel blurted out of nowhere making Isabela facepalmed at her, Luisa rub the back of her head bashfully as Dolores sighs in defeat.

✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁

[kunimikat]

How they act after you break up with them.

(I made sure to check but there might be small grammar errors, and this is a long one so strap in 🙇, but hope you enjoy angst+fluff here) but not me actually feeling bad for them after-

Is more out of it then usual.

The reason you broke up with him is because you felt like it wasn’t a real relationship. And more like you sometimes got to talk during class, and sometimes out of school.

He writes in his a separate notebook of ways he could’ve done better

Starts comparing himself to other guys more often

Leaves earlier then everyone else to got to dorms.

Mumbles even more then usual, and sometimes the only person that can snap him out of it is Aizawa.

Sometimes takes it out on his friends

“Hey Deku!-“

“Not right now Uraraka.”

“Oi, Deku nerd, the-“

“Can you not right now Kacchan?”

“HAAH?-“

“Midoryia! Would you like to study?”

“Maybe later Iida...”

Todoroki offered him soba but it resulted in Midoriya slowly slurping up soba as he looked into the void of people

He shut everyone one out and didn’t talk barely most of the week.

He’d take out a lot of his anger during training.

It somehow finally clicks into place how bad you feel and how much you miss him when All Might pull you aside and asks. “Uhhh...Is Young Midoriya ok? I’m getting real worried....ITS NOT LIKE I DONT WORRY ABOUT MY OTHER STUDENTS HAHAHA! HOW’S-

There’s 15 minutes of your life awkwardly telling All Might how all your classmates are doing.

Which made you want to jump off the top of UA at the moment.

You decide to head to his dorm and ask him about it, cause you feel like it’s your fault.

You walk in on him crying, clutching the shirt you bought for him on his birthday.

You almost dropped to your knees in guilt at the sight

You rushed over and sat by him, comforting him, though it wasn’t much as you started crying too.

Basically a crying festival for an hour.

“Please....Please Y/N I love you so much, I promise I’ll make it work, and I’ll do my best to make it up to you, just please...PLEASE don’t leave me.” You kiss him on the lips and then his hand, “Babe it’s not all on you, I promise I’ll do better this time too, I’m so sorry for being selfish, I love you, ok?” Another crying fest.

After you start dating again:

Always makes sure you’re comfortable, and checks into your dorm before he starts a study session.

Helps you with your work before his. ( Though you insist he doesn’t as he’s gotten points off multiple times for turning in his work late.)

Goes on dates every time you have some free space in your schedules. Somehow ends up in an All Might merch shop 80% of the time.

!!CUDDLE SESSIONS AFTER HERO TRAINING AT ALL TIMES!! Even in Recovery Girl’s office, though many times she bops you both on the head and tells you to get out.

(If you both like All Might) You both geek out over new All Might stuff, and his old interviews while wearing an All Might onesies.

(If you like a different hero) You could spend hours bickering on who’s best hero, pulling up recordings and articles on the. With you holding your favorite hero plushie and him wearing All Might pajamas.

And waking up early just to take a long route to school together.

Makes sure to say ‘I love you’ at every small moment, and compliments you, though he can’t take compliments himself-

If it’s a permanent breakup:

“I...I understand, but why?”

Tears well up in his eyes and he for once he keeps eye contact with you, without looking away

It takes everything in you to not breakdown

“I’m sorry Izuku, I just don’t think it’ll work out in the end.” He grabs your hand and holds it both of his. He puts it to his forehead, nearly on his knees at this point. You try not to cry with him, but you knew it wasn’t going to end up a happily ever after in the end. And you wanted to break it off before that could happen.

“Izuku, I know, I know, I’m so sorry, I wish it couldn’t end like this-“

“Then don’t let it. Please Y/N don’t let this end.”

You eyes welled up as you put a hand over your mouth while repeating ‘I’m sorry, so sorry Izuku’. You looked away from him as you slipped your hand out of his, you close your eyes painfully, the tears finally running down your face. You couldn’t help but look back one more time, and almost wanted to run to where he was and take it all back. He sat on his knees, his head in his hands as painful sobs wracked his body. You quickly leave the room, shutting the door behind you.

You both were pretty quiet and emotionless the whole week.

Midoriya was even worse then before,

It got to the point where sometimes he didn’t eat or sleep

He barely responded to anything anyone said

Hell, even Bakugo was worried at some point

Midoriya would always go back to his dorm and cuddle with the gifts you gave him while you were dating.

It took a long time for him to get over it, and even when he thought it did, he still gets emotional over it

Even after highschool it pains him to see your off doing your own thing without you at his side the whole time

Quieter then usual

Is so deep in thought, sometimes forgets he’s in class or what he’s doing

During tests, or while working on assignments he’d be so deep in thought he didn’t realize he broke his pencil, or used his quirk on his desk

Instead of having his usual outburst on people he’d just walk off, or click his tounge and walk off

Even during Hero Lessons he’d be less calculated, and not as pumped up

When anyone tried to ask he’d just say “Fuck off, I’m fine.”

His grades slightly dropped

He had bags under his eyes, and had even worse posture then usual

When it came time to leave, he’d be the first one out, and no one could find out where he’d go

A permanent frown was on his face at all times (basically him most of time but with a deeper frown)

No one knew what to do at this point

It didn’t click with you until one day during Hero Lessons

He was sparring with Kirishima and all of a sudden he fainted

Everyone was surprised to say the most

You rushed with Kirishima to Recover Girls office

You both almost busted the door off it’s hinges

She wacked you both on the head but quickly tended to Bakugo, surprising you both as she checked on him

“Oh....I wouldn’t have expected this from Bakugo.” You and Kirishima had confused looks on your faces. “Well he passed out from exhaustion, which I usually see with that foolish Midoriya boy. This one usually keeps up with himself, something must’ve happened.” She cut herself off as she saw the look on your face that said it all. She beckons Kirishima to follow her out, as he still wasn’t getting what was happening.

You finally got a good look at him, and saw just how exhausted he looked. The bags under his eyes, his bruised body, and how pained he looked in his sleep. You hugged the non-bruised part of his arm, and finally let the tears you held let go. “I’m sorry Katsuki...I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” Before you realized he woke up, he placed his free hand on your head, rubbing small and soothing circles on your head. “S’okay, let’s make this work.” You knew you didn’t have to say anything else as you both stayed like that until Recovery Girl came in to kick you both out.

After you start dating again:

Comes to your dorm everyday to get you up knowing you’d oversleep if he didn’t (also wants to see your sleeping face...not in a weird way)

Cooks you breakfast in bed on off days,

You guys cook something together when you have a movie night

Instead of yelling most times, he just makes sure he understands your side of everything before jumping to conclusions

Makes sure he isn’t too rough with you verbally (lol not sure physically)

Brings you to his parents house during some free time since you get along with his mom and dad well

Won’t admit it but adores the fact that his parents love you

Whispers ‘I love you’ when he’s made sure your ‘sleeping’ (you’re not, you just wanna hear him say it all shy like)

You guys go on training dates, where you both train together, then have a picnic where you just trained

Him being more open with PDA, like holding your hand, or laying his head on your shoulder, etc. just small stuff

He loves playing with your hair and twisting it around his fingers while cuddling or studying

You both cheer on your favorite hero during a fight on TV, or you pick a random channel on TV and you just listen to him rant how stupid something is while you lean onto his shoulder at 2am (somehow got him to stay up this late)

If it’s a permanent breakup:

“No...no...you can’t, you can’t be serious”

He sounded so broken. His fists clutched so hard you thought his bones would pop out

Anger was evident in his face, and he honestly scared you with the face he was making

“Y/N....are you joking?” You frown and step back a little, did he really think everything you said was a joke? “No Bakugo, I just think this isnt gonna work out in the end.” You heard him click his tongue, then just look at you in shock, then anger. He looked down, his bangs covering his expression. “So you’re just gonna end it like that? No working anything out, just break up? It was one fucking mistake Y/N.”

“Yeah one big mistake, you don’t suck faces with some other person on accident, Bakugo.” The venom in your voice slicing through the tension filled air. “Can you just fucking forgive me? I won’t do it again.”

“You said that last time, Katsuki, then you go and clown off again-“

Before you could get anything else out Bakugo already had his quirk going in one hand, and the other holding your shoulder down. You both looked surprised, even as he backed away. “No..nononono fuck Y/N baby I’m sorry-” you smacked the hand that reached out for you. You started packing everything, Bakugo’s eyes widened as he just stood in shock. Before he knew it you were leaving already.

“N...NO NO Y/N PLEASE, I’M SORRY-“ he grabbed you by the arm that reached for the door knob. You quickly shrugged him out of his grasp, and opened the door. “Goodbye Bakugo, I hope well for the next person with you.” And you slammed it in his face. He stood there, it’s like the emotions he felt before were completely wiped when you slammed the door on him. It was 8:03pm, he should start getting ready for bed anyway.

For a few weeks he was unresponsive, and only talked when he needed to

His movements were sluggish and he’d often stare at nothing

Bakugo didn’t even glare, or really do anything when Midoriya tried talking him

Or shittyhair, dunce face, raccoon eyes, or soy sauce face

They were all the same, and just molded into one voice every time someone tried talking to him

After a while he got over it, but he still regrets what he did

You helped him through so much yet he went off and did stupid shit

Even after highschool, he’d still keep up on you frequently through social media

Basically stalking you on there, guessing he never truly got over it once he felt tears subconsciously stream down his face as he saw you with someone else, happier.

He felt like he didn’t do anything wrong, and he was confused at the throb in his heart every time you looked away from him or ignored him.

So he did ask you, and all you did was look at him like he just hit you.

Why did you look so hurt?

Todoroki shrugged it off, thinking you’d come back like you did after every fight you guys had

But you didn’t, and that’s what took an actual toll on him

More emotional

A permanent frown on his pretty features most of the time

All he mostly eats is soba

He didn’t know how to handle this in all honesty

Sometimes he’d just stare at you, and even when you looked back he’d just stare...

Sometimes he’s so out of it he doesn’t realize he’s either froze the entire classroom or was a living breathing radiator, or both (rip Momo, Satou, and Tokoyami)

He’d ask Midoryia for help but it came out as a fumbled mess most of the time:

“Midoryia...how do you hurt....them, a lot...without...? Can you help?

Midoryia is just like:

(Sorry I had to add that in I was cackling sm from it)

“I think you should just talk to them Todoroki.”

That was harder to do then he expected, you mangaged to avoid him pretty well,

One day he was just fed up and as soon as the bell rang he took your hand and left the class

He takes you to an empty classroom, his left side nearly giving you frostbite

You were about to yell at him before you saw his broken expression

“What...what did I do for it to be like this?” You we’re now quiet as you saw the confused and hurt expression on his face. Him barely being able to control either of his quirks, he was shaking, yet still held a confused expression. It just clicked with you, Todoroki wasn’t used to the sudden emotions or feelings, and when one of the people he’d usually go to to talk about it wasn’t there, he started to crumble.

You hugged him tightly , not caring if his quirks messed up your uniform. “I’m sorry Y/N....I’m sorry I’m not enough, but-“ You cover his mouth as tears fell from your eyes and onto the ground or his uniform. “I- I-I’m so sorry Todo...it’s just you never gave me affection and I was being so selfish and petty about it, I just- I didn’t realize that you went through your own experience for it to turn out like this. It’s not your fault, and I love you the way you are Shoto.” Todoroki didn’t even notice the tears come down his face as you kissed him over and over again. A small ‘I’m sorry’ from you every time. His quirks calmed down and now you were holding each other in a random classroom. You’re heart nearly stopped as you looked up at him and saw a small, teary eyed smile.

After you start Dating again:

Todoroki was much more observant

He’d stay up late readings articles saying “How to understand emotions” or “Is there other good food then Cold Soba” wait-

Regularly gets you gifts, even though most of the time you make him return the stuff since he’s been getting so much with his dads card

Endeavor ended up yelling at you both in a 7/11 while you were stuffing your faces with a soba flavored chips

You both figured out a way to get Todoroki to express himself without words

He’d slightly activate his left side if he wanted any sort of attention, and his right side was if he was feeling stressed or upset

He subconsciously goes to your dorm now to check up on you to make sure you’ve had a glass of water, dinner or anything really (He just wanted a reason to go to your dorm)

You played with his hair once, and he’s never going back

When cuddling he’d lay his head in the crook of your neck, hoping to feel you playing with his hair

You push him to start taking therapy sessions to understand what emotions he’s feeling and how to express them

Takes you in your free time to an empty field just to hear you talk, and learn more about you

And he’d always wake up early and made sure to get a few snacks for you before you woke up and brought them to your dorm room (Last time he tried to cook he almost burned the kitchen down)

Overall Todoroki just loves giving you small head pats now, you don’t know where it came from but you didn’t complain

Poor bby stuttered so hard the first time he said ‘I love you’ you giggled

Ended up making him feel embarrassed and like he did something wrong, but you quickly kissed him/praised him

He can’t stop saying it now, one time you picked up his pencil, before you could hand it to him just a sudden “I love you Y/N” the entire class looked at you both in shock

“STOP SUCKING FACES OVER THERE!”

“SHUT UP BAKUGO”

“HAAAH?”

Todoroki is the happiest he’s been.

If it’s a permanent breakup:

“Over? What do you mean we’re over?”

You felt so horrible by the the pure confusion on his face

But the rude things he said to you, over powering your want to get back with him

Lately Todoroki has been more protective, and rude. Insulting everything you do, belittling you slightly. It just added up and you were tired of it

Todoroki tilted his head to the side, deep in thought.

“Y/N your being on the dumber side again, are you hanging out with them too much?” You were taken aback by how nonchalantly he insulted you and your friends. “Excuse me? Todoroki did I hear you right?” You stepped foward leaning your head toward him. “Of course you can, or did Bakugo’s yelling make you not hear so well?” The fact he said it with no emotion, or nothing to it was making you clench your fist. “The hell has gotten into you Todoroki?” You shove his shoulder a bit. He frowned at you heavily making you flinch. “Well if you didn’t go and ignore me most of this week maybe I wouldn’t be like this. I usually hold my tongue but you’ve been rude this entire week.”

You stood there speechless. “Well Ex-fucking-cuse me Shoto. Maybe if you didn’t insult me all the damn time I wouldn’t ignore you, or wait for an decent apology.”

You drag out the last words as you glared at him, Todoroki giving one back. “I’m only telling the truth so you don’t look dumb. I’m helping you out Y/N, I thought you’d understand.” You scoff in utter shock, you couldn’t help the sudden urge to slap some sense into him. Now he stood speechless, the force in that slap causing his hair to look messy, and a red mark on his cheek. Tears were in your eyes as you clenched your fist, biting your lip from cussing him out on the spot. “Your lucky I don’t beat your sorry ass, just...just the the fuck out Todoroki!” You pushed him toward the door. He looked at you with no emotion in his face as he saw you start to bawl your eyes out. “Just...just get the hell out Todoroki, it’s over, we’re over.” He felt a pang in his heart, but choose to ignore it and just left.

It only actually came to him during the night as he was about to walk to your dorm after a nightmare, when he realized the entire conversation

He tried knocking on your door but you didn’t answer, even though he could hear your music

He went back to his dorm, sat on his bed and just had a full mental breakdown

Realizing his main emotional support that helped him through mostly everything was gone

He felt he said stuff his father said to you already which made it even worse

He tried texting and calling you but you had him blocked on everything

He repeated the entire conversation in his head, just now coming to how disgusting he really did sound

Todoroki for that whole week was an emotional wreck

During hero training if he was thinking about you or what he did he doesn’t notice poor Satou trying to get out of his wall of Ice.

Is always with Midoryia at some given time,

He kind of clinged onto people in his circle that gave him attention of some sort

When he some time passed he eventually got over it

After Highschool you both kept in touch, but it pained him when he saw you engaged and happy with another person

But he was happy if you were happy.

Heyyy so this is probably the longest thing I’ve written since like my last Wattpad fanfics I used to do(yikes). But hope you enjoy, and don’t be afraid to request! I’m taking them now so go wild.

Sorry that they were all confusing it’s my first hcs+scenario thingy, but I have a few other things in the works so... 💃🕺

[buckybarnesdiaries]

happy birthday

© @damn-salvatore

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

request by @phoenixhalliwell: Hi maria 👋 how are you? I was wondering if I could put a request in please for prompt number 8? The one with the it's not much but I bought you this ( I cant mind the exact wording 🙈) Bucky mentions something that reminds him of his past that makes him happy and like nostalgic and then the reader goes out of their way to find it for him so that he doesn't feel so out of place in the future? Thank you 😊💛

prompt: “I got you this. It’s not much, bu—”

word count: 928 words.

warnings/tags: none.

author notes: none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

join the tag list NEW!!! here.

You found out about Bucky's birthday by casualty. It was the first after earning his freedom and you felt like he didn't want to celebrate it. Maybe that was the reason why he didn't mention anything. But even so, you wanted to give him a gift. You weren't sure about what it could be and you have the most brilliant idea of your life. Asking Steve. Nobody knew him better than his long-life friend, his brother. Although at first, the Captain tried to persuade you, he ended up thinking that maybe could be something good for Bucky. A birthday gift could be an appropriate way to come back to reality, step by step.

Steve told you about his hobbies, about what he used to do in the forties. He gave you more ideas than you expected, but there was a concrete one that called your attention from the very first moment it popped out. You toured New York's avenues, taking advantage that Bucky had to assist to therapy, a medical examination, and to work out. That would have him occupied for the rest of the day, while you bought all the necessary and prepared it at home, for when he came back.

You sighed alleviated, falling on the sofa. Satisfied with the black cardboard box in front of your eyes, over the coffee table. You managed to collect everything inside and put a bow made with a gift ribbon on top of it. You were exhausted after walking down the streets from one side to another, carrying the small bags. You also forgot to eat something during the day, but only by the thought of having to stand up (...), you preferred to stay there.

BUCKY'S POV

The soldier closed the door slowly behind his back, resting against it for a brief instant. Usually, the medical examinations left him weary. The doctor took blood and urine tests. Checked his lungs and brain with an x-ray. Then, one hour of resistance and strength —mostly by running and heavy lifting. It felt like a train ran over him. All he wanted was to be cuddled and comforted, but when he stepped into the living room and watched you sleep on the sofa, he couldn't blame you for feeling like him.

Bucky was about to hold you onto his arms and take you to your huge shared bed until his gaze fell over a black box with a handwritten note by its side. “This is not a birthday present”. A tender smile curved up his mouth, having a seat close to your abdomen to open it. His fingers raised the lid in slow motion, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes as your boyfriend placed the cover on the table. When he was ready, he rolled up his eyelids to glance to the inside. A knot appeared inside his throat. His heart skipped.

Bucky tilted his torso towards you, leaning down to wrap your waist with his strong and firm arms. The heat emanating from his heavy body along with the delicate kisses being spread on your forehead, bridge of your nose, and lips, woke you up. Blinking sleepy, touring his back with your hands, you let out a sight. “I got you something. It’s not much, bu—”.

“It's perfect”. Bucky interrupted you, burying his face into the gap between your neck and your right shoulder. “Is the best non-birthday gift ever”.

You couldn't help but chuckle and yawn at the same time, palming softly the back of his head to urge him to sit up. And so you did, holding the box to place it over your lap.

“I just… supposed you didn't have the energy to… celebrate it. But I wanted to give you something”. You mumbled, rubbing your eyes for an instant. “Steve told me a lot of things you liked to do in the past, but… I, uh… thought that maybe drawing again could also help you with your nightmares”.

Bucky took off every item from the box, having a déjà vu, remembering the old days where he used to spend the day creating art. The good days he had forgotten until you brought them back. It wasn't only the gift. It was the intention. It was the love you put on it. The help you were offering again to fight against the bad dreams that were still chasing him today.

You bought him special notebooks for drawing, pencils, colors… Anything you found to make him a good kit. Inside his oceanic blue eyes, you could glimpse that Bucky was about to cry, not knowing how to thank you enough for the second chance you gave him, for the careless and the patient, for the small details marking the difference, for just being by his side at any moment. He felt like he was coming back to life.

Your boyfriend clung his arms to your body unexpectedly, embracing you as much tighter as he could without hurting you. Bucky won the lottery the first time you smiled at him. He knew karma was rewarding him for all the pain he had been through. And you were the lucky of his life. A life he'd give for you without hesitating.

“I love you, (Y/N). Y'know it, right?” As he spoke, his voice wrecked, reaching your lips to pepper them fondly. “More than anything I had ever loved, more than anything I could love one day”.

“I know, Buck”. You whispered with a soft smirk decorating your mouth. “I'll always love you, I'll always take care of you”.

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[phykios]

Five Times Percy Jackson Cheated At School (And One Time Someone Cheated Him) [read on ao3]

thank you as always to @darkmagyk for inspo and beta-ing 💙💙💙 and thank you to @arosnowflake for the homer idea!

1)

Percy squints at the paper prompt again, tilting his head, as if the new angle will extract some hidden information. It doesn’t change. The font is the special dyslexia-friendly one used by most departments at NRU, so he isn’t misreading it, either.

Your final will be an 8-10pp (TNR, 12pt, double-spaced) research paper expanding on one of the topics discussed in our class so far, or an alternate idea of your choosing, to be submitted in writing by May 7 with footnotes and bibliography. By 10am on the Wednesday before the Thursday class you will submit online a 750-word essay (word count does not include footnotes) on the research thread you have pursued that week (no written assignments due Week 6 or Week 12). 

Percy might hate college.

“Your neck bothering you again?” Annabeth asks, coming up behind him, her hands already on his shoulders. She’s sweaty, dressed in workout clothes, having just come back in from a jog. 

“My neck is fine,” he says. “Just preemptively freaking out over my Roman history final.”

He tilts his head back over the top of his chair, staring into the upside down, prettily frowning face of his girlfriend, and it does nothing to improve his mood.

“How bad is it?”

“Eight to ten pages,” Percy says, “not including footnotes.”

“Ouch.”

“And,” he grimaces, “it’s a topic of our choosing.”

Her mouth twists in sympathy. “Sucks.”

“Yep.”

“Anything I can do to help?” She squeezes his shoulders lightly, an open invitation. 

He shakes his head, stretching his arms back to grab her waist. “Promise not to break up with me when you catch me crying at 4AM over it.”

“Promise.” And she seals it with a kiss, bending down to reach him. “Dad wants to know if you’re free on the 16th.” 

“The 16th?” He wracks his brain. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t conflict with sailing, or Greek Club, or the monthly intra-pantheon relations council meeting that Chiron and Clarisse both guilted him into joining. “Pretty sure. Why?”

“Dinner--Charlotte’s out of town that weekend.”

“Sounds good.”

“Great, I’ll let him know. Now,” and she grins, “are you going to stare at that computer all day, or do you want to come and take a shower with me?”

Percy slams the computer shut. 

He doesn’t think about his paper topic for a while after that.

***

To his great dismay, Percy gets to her dad’s house first on the 16th. Drama in writing group 🙄 she texts him as he gets to the door, be there asap.

Great. Alone in the house with his girlfriend’s dad. Taking a deep breath, he knocks on the door. 

Not a minute later, Dr. Chase opens it. Last time they went to visit, Percy and Annabeth had ended up waiting outside for almost a quarter of an hour. “Oh, Percy,” he says, fumbling his flight helmet off his head. “Goodness, I thought I’d lost track of time again. Come in, come in.”

“Thanks,” Percy says, stepping inside and shedding his jacket. “Annabeth’s running late, but she said she’d be here soon.”

He frowns, looking so much like Annabeth that it throws Percy for several loops. “Well, that’s alright,” he says. “I’m sure we can entertain ourselves well enough until she gets here.”

“Yeah,” Percy chuckles, uneasy.

Several seconds pass. 

“Oh!” starts Dr. Chase. “Right, yes. Come in. Would you like something to drink?”

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t get much better.

A few minutes of staggered conversation later, it becomes eminently clear why they need Annabeth between them. It’s not the awkward small talk that doesn’t go anywhere (“How’s school going for you?” “It’s okay.” “Good, that’s good to hear.”) or the fact that Dr. Chase doesn’t really grasp how to relate to younger kids (“Have you heard of this website called ‘Vine’?”), but more that it’s just painfully obvious that the two of them don’t really know where they stand with each other. 

Now, he knows that Frederick Chase doesn’t hate him. Objectively, he’s aware of the fact that, if it weren’t for him, Annabeth never would have reconnected with her father in the first place, and he kind of owes him for that. Also, Percy knows that he’s a pretty chill guy--a little scatterbrained, but chill. 

That doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to make a good impression, though. Or that Dr. Chase thinks that Percy is smart enough for his daughter. Because, like, Percy isn’t smart enough for Annabeth--that much is obvious. Dr. Chase was courted by Athena. Percy barely made it out of high school calculus.

“Would you…” Dr. Chase hedges, plucking off his glasses and giving them a quick wipe with his shirtsleeve. “Would you like to see some of my current research?”

“Uh… sure. I’d love to.” 

At the very least, hopefully Dr. Chase will talk enough for the both of them, eating up time until Annabeth gets here.

A new spring in his step, Dr. Chase leads Percy to his study, where he’s got a setup worthy of Cabin Six: on his desk is a massive map of the Mediterranean, littered with miniatures of tanks, planes, and ships. Ringing the room are wall-hangings, depicting different types of planes, half of their structure in x-rays like people in an anatomy textbook, sandwiching the giant viking sword which hangs directly behind his chair. Every inch of floor space is occupied with a pile of books, some serving as additional desk space for mugs, notepads, spare toy soldiers, and, in one case, what looks like the leftovers of a handful of celestial bronze spearheads, melted down into shiny, useless nuggets. 

“You know I primarily study aviation,” Dr. Chase is saying, tidying up as he walks around the room, “but my colleagues and I are collaborating on an interdisciplinary re-evaluation of the entire North African theatre in World War II. It’s fascinating stuff; until very recently, they used to call it the ‘war without hate,’ given the lack of partisan roundups and, ah, ethnic clashes that you see in Europe--absolute garbage, of course. As if there weren’t civilians caught up in the fighting, too!” He chuckles, pleased at his own joke. Percy forces a laugh out of himself. “Anyway, with my prior experience studying the invasion of Sicily, I was brought on to assist in piecing the timeline together, working backwards from 1943.”

“Cool,” says Percy, filling the natural gap of conversation.

“Extremely! Operation Husky was a terrific endeavor of airborne, amphibious, and land-based combat.”

Percy nods. Amphibious? “Uh-huh.”

“Though, I must admit, I am having a little trouble retracing some of the ships.” Peering over his map, he leans down, fiddling with one of the ships. “You see this one here? The Palmer?”

Stepping up to the desk, Percy crouches down so the little toy ship is at eye level.

“Well, based on official records, the Palmer was supposed to have arrived at the rendezvous point at the same time as all the other ships, but ended up delayed by two days, and I can’t… quite…” He moves the ship again, frowning. “Figure out… why…” 

“Where were they sailing through?” Percy asks. 

Dr. Chase points to the map. “From Alexandria to Malta.” 

“They probably just hit a bad couple of currents,” Percy says, standing up. 

Tilting his head, Dr. Chase peers at him. “How do you mean?”

“If you’re going through the Cretan Passage, you’re going to hit all kinds of West-East currents which will push you backwards.” Snatching up a pencil from a nearby book stack, Percy lightly sketches on top of the map, tracing along the North African coast. “There are tons of overlapping currents in this area that push boats around in circles, especially around Sicily. That’s one of the reasons why so many historians figure that Homer was referring to the Strait of Messina when Odysseus goes through Scylla and Charybdis, here.” And he circles the strait, with a confident flourish.

When he pulls back, Dr. Chase is staring at him.

Percy blinks. “Um… sorry I drew on your map.”

“You--I have been trying to figure that out for weeks.”

He coughs, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry.”

But Dr. Chase just laughs. “You can make it up to me by helping me with these next.” Clearing crumbs off of southern France, he bends over, pencil in hand. “So, say you were trying to get from Marseilles to Tunis…” 

Forty-five minutes later, still embroiled in battle recreations of the Mediterranean theatre, they don’t hear Annabeth letting herself in with her key, not even registering her presence until Dr. Chase, grasping for a notebook, spots her leaning against the doorway. “Don’t stop on my account.”

“Oh, Annabeth, dear! I’m sorry,” says Dr. Chase, going over to give her a hug. “We didn’t hear you come in.”

“I can see that,” she says. “What are you guys doing?”

“Percy here has been assisting me with naval movements,” he says, proudly.

Lacing her fingers with his, Annabeth steps over to Percy, studying their battle map. “Really?”

“Oh yes, he’s been phenomenally helpful.”

She kisses his cheek, pleased. “Look at you, Mr. ‘Phenomenally Helpful.’”

“It was pretty fun,” he admits, warm all over.

“I’d bet. Although, I guess this means we should probably order in for dinner…?”

Rubbing at the back of his neck, Dr. Chase smiles. “Yes, I suppose we should. Does pizza sound all right to you two?”

“Let me take care of it,” she says, slipping from Percy’s side. “You guys looked like you were in the middle of something. Extra olives, dad?”

“Don’t forget--”

“And anchovies, Percy, I know.” She rolls her eyes, taking out her phone.

Rather than the three of them move into the kitchen, Annabeth ends up bringing the pizza in with her, because of course she has opinions she’d like to share about the Allies’ naval movements. 

“You know, Percy,” says Dr. Chase, “I must say, you have a real knack for this kind of thing. Have you thought about what you might major in yet?”

Ah, the million drachmae question. “Not yet,” he says, fiddling with a pencil. “I figured I’d get through my gen eds first and then see which one I hated the least.” 

“I think you should consider majoring in history.”

Percy’s head snaps up. “History?”

“Specifically maritime history, I suppose. Your predisposition to sailing and ocean currents would be a huge asset to your research.”

“But--wouldn’t history have, like, a metric ton of required reading? I’m not really sure that’s my area.” He has a daughter with dyslexia and ADHD; surely he’d understand Percy’s hesitation.

But he just shakes his head. “Graduate programs these days are very favorable towards interdisciplinary methodology, I sincerely doubt you’d have to barricade yourself in the library. And recently there’s been a significant push to make the field more accessible to students with disabilities, including things like digitization, screen reading for people with vision impairments, and even restructuring programs all together so that students no longer have to memorize the Encyclopedia Britannica in order to pass their general exams.”

“That’s really nice of you to say, Dr. Chase,” Percy says, “But history class isn’t like talking over naval movements with you.” He thought back to the paper that had lowkey been haunting his dreams. “Like, in my classical history survey, I can’t just… talk about currents and battle plans. I have to come up with a topic on my own, and then write about that.” 

“Surely something involving Roman naval movements would be well within your skill set. You have a second sense about these things,” he chuckles, “clearly.”

Percy glances towards Annabeth, hoping she’ll back him up, but she looks thoughtful. Considering. Like she’s actually thinking about her dad’s proposal. “I can’t just choose something in naval history.”

“Why not?”

“Because… it's too easy?” 

If it was anything like his afternoon with Dr. Chase, it might even be fun. And school isn’t supposed to be fun. 

He repeats that thought to Annabeth as they drive home. “School isn’t supposed to be fun.” 

“No,” Annabeth agrees, “but I don’t know… I like my intro art history class way better than anything we ever did in high school because I actually care about it. Maybe if you write about stuff you’re good at, like my dad suggested, you’ll like it more.” 

The idea follows him all the way to bed, where he’s still mulling it over at 2 in the morning. Before he can chicken out, he grabs his phone, shooting off a quick email to his professor with his potential paper topic, then rolls over, eventually falling asleep.

By morning, he has a response. 

Sounds good! Looking forward to it.

***

With shaking hands, Percy calls his mom. “Yes?” 

“Hey mom.”

“Percy?” He hears her perk up, almost visualizing her sitting up in her chair. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

Mom instincts. They can always tell when something is different. His heart throbs in his chest. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says, smiling stretching across his face. “It’s just--I got my paper back.” 

Percy had ended up writing his paper about the Roman navy movements in the Battle of the Aegates in 241 BC. It was probably the most fun he’s ever had on a school assignment, or at least the most fun he’d ever had writing a paper. 

“And?” She sounds expectant, hopeful. His mom has always had such faith in him, even with thirteen years of schooling to prove her otherwise. 

He looks back at his email, just to make sure he’s reading it right. “I got an A.”

She gasps. He can hear the scrape of the chair as she stands up. “Percy, that’s wonderful!” 

“Thank you.”

“An A!”

He smiles into his fist, inordinately pleased. “Thank you.”

“Oh, sweetheart, I am so happy for you!”

“Thanks, mom.”

“I’m so proud of you, Percy.” Her voice is soft now, like twilights on the beach with blue marshmallows. “I know how hard you’ve worked for this. You should be very proud, too.”

“I am.” And he is, weirdly enough. “I just can’t believe it.”

“I can.” His mom must be grinning, her eyes sparkling. “I always knew you could do it.”

“Sally?” He hears in the background, muffled. “Is that Percy?”

“Paul, Percy got an A on his Roman history paper!”

A second voice crowds its way in, equally excited. “An A? That’s great, kiddo! Congratulations.”

Why can’t he stop smiling? “Thanks.”

“I bet that feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”

“It does.”

“Well, it is very well-deserved,” says Paul. “That was some great work you did. I could tell how passionate you were about your topic just from your first sentence.”

“Thank you.” Maybe he should be worried about all this praise going to his head, but damn, is it nice. “Listen, I have to go get started on dinner, but I just wanted to give you a call.”

“Of course,” says his mom. “I want to hear from you more, okay? Tell me more good news! Like when are you and Annabeth going to--”

“I’m working on it, okay?” says Percy, smiling even more broadly. “I’ll keep you posted, promise.”

She laughs, tinny and happy. “You’d better. Congratulations again, sweetheart.”

“Thanks mom. Love you.”

“Love you, too.” 

And he hangs up, puts his phone down on the table, tilts his head back, and sighs, full, happy, a release. 

Maybe college won’t be so bad after all. 

2)

“You don’t have to do this,” Frank says, hushed. “All you have to do is walk away.”

Five Greek Fire bombs, cloudy yellow, are lined up on the table in front of him, neatly laid out in front of five twenties. From the side, Frank stares him down, surrounded by an army of morbidly curious Romans. Someone turned off the music and turned on the lights a while ago, stopping the party in its tracks, every eye on Percy and his opponent. Figures, his first college party all year and he causes a scene. 

Percy grips the edge of the table. “He insulted the Mets,” he says for the millionth time. “I can’t let that shit stand.”

Frank sighs. “Annabeth?” he asks, hoping to stop this nonsense.

Turning to his side, Percy sees his girlfriend, two drinks in, her cheeks lightly flushed, but solid as she stands beside him, supporting him. Her eyes are hard, fierce, the warrior gaze of Athena all but leaping out of her. “Do it,” she says. 

William, the sour-faced Roman legacy of Juventus, scowls. “A hundred bucks on the table. Sixty seconds. No throwing them back up.”

“Deal.”

“Frank,” Annabeth calls. “Start the clock.”

He sighs. “You guys are idiots.”

“Frank!”

“Okay, okay.” He holds out his phone, thumb primed, hovering over the screen. “On your marks, in three… two… one…” 

He hits zero, and Percy grabs a shot glass. Squeezing his eyes shut, he brings it to his lips, and throws it back.

It’s… not what he expected.

The tequila is awful--no getting around that. Even to Percy’s untrained taste buds, having really only ever had some of Gabe’s sour beer (under duress) and some of the Demeter cabin’s strawberry wine (on his eighteenth birthday, a celebration for actually getting to graduate high school), he can tell it’s cheap, rank, unrefined shit, like he’s drinking straight toilet cleaner. But the garum, the weird Roman condiment that the shot is mixed with, the one that Percy had never heard of before, it’s… it almost tastes like the fish sauce that comes with the pork and rice noodles from the Vietnamese place down the corner of his mom’s apartment, only less… fishy? Yeah. Less fishy.

It’s a weird taste. It’s not bad, by any means, it just--straight up, it just tastes like saltwater. Like the sea. 

And, well. Percy can handle the sea.

He looks at William, and grins. “You are so fucked.”

The assembled Romans cheer, spectators at a gladiator show, as Percy knocks back the rest of the Greek Fire bombs, one after another, clearing them all in under thirty seconds. Annabeth swipes up the cash, shrieking as she throws her arms around Percy. William wanders off, red-faced and glaring, as whoever turned the music off before flips it back on, the night, and the party, saved.

Silly Percy. He should have known what was coming next.

Thirty minutes later, he is well and truly wasted.

“You’re, like, really pretty,” he shouts at Annabeth over the loud music.

She snorts, grinning at him. “Thanks.”

“Seriously,” he slurs, tipping forward on his feet. “You could be a model.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Remember when we were fourteen,” he yells, bracing himself against the wall, “and you got kidnapped by that monster?” Slightly soberer but still a little flushed, she bites her lip, nodding. “Well, I followed the rescue party--I told you that, that I snuck out of camp to follow the rescue party? Right?” 

“You did.”

He takes a sip of water, running his tongue around the inside of his mouth. Feels goofy as fuck. “We got hijacked by Aphrodite halfway through, and when I saw her, I thought--I thought, ‘Holy shit, she looks a little like Annabeth.’”

Her brows shoot up, smile pulling at her lips. “Really?”

He nods. “Totally! But you’re way, way p--” 

Still smiling, she silences him with a kiss, the lingering taste of hard cider on her tongue. “I appreciate it,” she murmurs, grinning, “but you probably shouldn’t say that out loud.”

“Gross.”

From out of nowhere, like he always does, the weasley little shit, Nico di Angelo is suddenly in their space, looking surly and emo as ever, red solo cup in his left hand. “Nico!” Percy crows, grabbing for him and missing. “How’s my favorite cousin?!”

Ducking his wildly swinging limbs, Nico grimaces in the way that Percy has to come to recognize as his attempt at a smile. “Better’n you,” he says, a little wobbly. “What’s up with him?” he directs towards Annabeth.

“Greek Fire bombs. Five.”

“You’re a psychopath.”

“What!” Percy pouts. “He insulted the Mets.”

“Aren’t you s’posed to be, like…” Nico snaps his fingers, words momentarily escaping him. “A--representation… person? For the Greeks?”

Percy waves his hand, hitting the wall. “Fuck that. The Greeks can handle themselves. The Mets are sacred!”

“Are you with anyone?” Annabeth asks, momentarily taking up Percy’s usual role of concerned parent friend while he is drunk off his ass. Theoi, he loves this girl so much. 

Nico shakes his head. “No, but Will and I are staying with--”

A thought suddenly blooms in Percy’s tequila-soaked brain. “Nico!” He shouts.

“What?” he hisses, glaring.

Percy pushes himself off of the wall, outstretched arms managing to box Nico in, falling on his shoulders and trapping him. He’s still a short, skinny little shit, the fuck, when are his Big Three genes going to kick in? “I need to talk to you about the thing.”

“The what?”

“The thing! The--the,” then he leans in, scream-whispering over the pounding bassline. “The thing.”

“That doesn’t help.”

“You know, it’s…” Percy licks his lips, language escaping him for a hot second. “Round. Metal. Jewelry thing.”

A beat, then Nico’s eyes widen. “Oh, that thing.”

“Yes, that thing!” Pulling back, he pulls Nico towards him, slinging an arm over his shoulders in a half-headlock. Annabeth watches, bemused, lips pursed as she tries not to smile. “I need to borrow Nico for a sec,” he says, words spilling out of him. “Back soon. Later. Soon.”

Her eyes crinkle, grey sparkling. She’s so fucking pretty. “Drink your water.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Then together, like some three-legged beast, the two boys lurch away deeper into the party, Nico leading them towards the kitchen. “Where’re you taking me?” Percy slurs. “‘M I being kidnapped again?”

“If I’m helping you plan out this stupid proposal,” he grumbles, pouring himself more vodka, “then I need to be less sober.”

***

Some mistakes may have been made.

“Where’s Annabeth?” Percy mumbles, looking back towards the house. The party is still raging, someone’s muffled Spotify playlist making a real racket, the greatest hits of ABBA still bouncing around his skull.

“Simp.” Nico, swaying a little, tries to stand up from his kneeling position, only to fall heavily back down on his knees. “She’s right where you left her.”

Discussing Percy's proposal plan had led to more drinking. More drinking had led to the two of them discussing their shared preference for blondes. (“Malcolm is pretty cute,” Nico admitted, flushing, and Percy almost screamed, “Isn’t he?! Sometimes I think about Annabeth with short hair looking like Malcolm and I almost start crying because she’d be so cute!”) Which then led to even more drinking. Which then led to general bitching about their lives, about Percy's hard-ass classics professor Dr. Bauer who he actually really liked but just pushed him so hard and expected so much of him, and Nico's half-brother Zagreus who was causing some family drama by picking fights with Hades all the time and also hooking up with both Thanatos AND the fury Megaera, which, ew, which then led to Percy inhaling his drink, nearly choking to death on unspecified college punch, Nico laughing at him all the while, as he had the most incredible idea.

"Nico!" He shouted, crushing the red solo cup. "Can you resurrect Homer for me?"

Nico gaped, staring. "What."

"Seriously! I need to ask him something for my paper."

"Percy." Nico gazed at him, all the power of the Ghost King boring into his soul, deep and haunting. Percy stifled a burp. "You're a fucking genius."

Which is how they found themselves around a shallow hole they had dug in the backyard, a large bottle of Pepsi originally intended as a mixer pilfered from the kitchen along with two slices of pepperoni pizza dumped on the grass beside them.

"Maybe we shouldn't do this," he says, uneasy even through his drunken haze.

"It was your idea!"

"I don't have good ideas."

“Fuck you, I’m doing it.” With all the force of a tiny, angry kitten, he snatches up the Pepsi bottle, wrestling with the twist cap for a good ten seconds. “I wanna give that bitch a piece of my mind for making me cry in school.”

Percy looks at him sideways. “Hector killing Patroclus got you, too?”

He snorts. “Fuck no. Achilles didn’t pay his dues to the dead.”

“Seriously?”

The cap pops off, and Nico tips the bottle over, dumping flat, lukewarm soda into the shallow hole. “It’s the ultimate dishonor!”

Freak. Percy would die for the kid.

“Let the dead taste again,” Nico mutters. “Let them rise and take this offering. Let them remember.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Says the guy who’s related to both horses and water.”

“I’m not related to water, I just control it.” 

The dirt turns black, dead soil mixed with sticky sugar water. Nico drops in the pizza, and begins to chant, that same ancient Greek that Percy heard in a dream once, talking of death and memories and returning from the grave or whatever. It’s still creepy as shit. 

Despite the warm California night, the air thickens with chilly fog. Silence, impenetrable, surrounds them, blocking out the noises of the party. From the earth, blueish, vaguely person-shaped figures begin to form, like thunderous clouds before a storm. “Which one is Homer?” he asks, hushed.

“Shh!” Nico hisses. 

Like little wells of gravity, the fog begins to coalesce. On one of them, Percy can almost make out, like, fingers. “Um, Mr. Homer? Sir?”

The figure doesn’t say anything. It lowers its mouth, drinking the soda out of the dirt. When it raises its head, Percy can see it more clearly, curly hair and milky white eyes and a straight nose. It--he?--seems a little more solid than your average run-of-the-mill ghost.

Nico frowns, eyes closed, concentrating. “What’s your name?” he mumbles. 

That mouth opens, soundlessly, jaw working on nothing.

“Speak.”

It--there’s a sound, like hissing, only it’s not coming from the mouth, Percy thinks. It sounds like it’s coming from the earth. “Nico?” he asks. “You good?”

The ghost opens its mouth again, moaning, raising its hands. Weakly, unsteadily, it stumbles forward on feeble legs, tripping over the shallow hole in the dirt.

“Nico?” he asks again, a little more forcefully. “What’s going on, dude?”

Nico blinks, slowly, mouth hanging open a little. “Uh.”

The… thing… raises itself up on its hands? He guesses, and knees, crawling its way over towards them.

Now, Percy may be drunk off his ass, but he has seen enough movies to know exactly what the fuck is up.

Moving with a speed he didn’t quite think was possible right about now, he grabs Nico’s wrist, and pulls him up, dragging him along as he lurches towards the house. “Percy…” Nico moans, stumbling over a rock. “I think I fucked up.”

“You think?” Percy wrenches the door open, tossing Nico inside, before following in after, throwing himself against the door. 

Nico groans, throwing his arms over his face. “Dio santo, my head.”

“Forget your head,” he says, “did we just raise a Homer zombie?!”

Panting, Nico stares up at him, sprawled on the floor of the house. “Oops.”

Percy thunks his head against the door. He does not have nearly enough mental capacity to deal with this right now.

But, he thinks ruefully, at least it’s just one. Even drunk, he’s pretty sure he can handle one zombie.

Nico’s eyes widen. 

Percy stares. “What.”

“I didn’t stop the ritual.”

His stomach goes cold.

Turning around slowly, he pulls aside the little curtain on the window. “What?” Nico asks. “What do you see?”

Percy can’t speak, mouth dry.

Slithering up behind, Nico peers over his shoulder. “That’s… not great.”

“Nico,” Percy says, eyeing the horde which slowly shambles closer, half-decayed bodies in togas bumping into each other, almost identical to the drunk college students inside, as the song changes, once again, to ‘Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! (A Man After Midnight).’ “Please go get Frank and Annabeth.”

The following Monday, an announcement is sent out to the entire campus: Per new department guidelines, students may not utilize the ambassador of Pluto to interview the dead for academic purposes.

3)

Percy attempts to flatten his hair. He readjusts his shirt. He almost wipes his sweaty palms on his pants, before he realizes what he’s doing, and clenches them instead, nails digging into his palms. He turns to Annabeth. “Do I look okay?”

“Ooh, ‘Mapping Funerary Monuments in the Periphery of Imperial Rome.’”

“Annabeth.”

She looks up from her brochure. “Relax, seaweed brain, you look fine. You look better than most people here.”

“That’s because I bring down the average age of presenters by about thirty years,” he hisses, eyes darting about at the milling mass of attendees, all packed into the hotel ballroom. 

Dr. Bauer had alternately convinced/pressured/guilttripped him into attending this year’s annual conference for the Society of Classical Studies to talk about the research he’d been doing with her. This year, the conference was held in San Francisco, so at the very least Percy didn’t have to spend five hours stressing about his poster presentation while simultaneously up in the air. But now that he’s here, in the ballroom, surrounded by strangers who know way more about this subject than he does, who are actually smart and probably never nearly flunked out of school or got kicked out or--

“Hey.” Annabeth takes his hand. “I know that look. You deserve to be here just as much as any of them.”

“Do I? I feel like any moment someone is going to come over and throw me out for trespassing.” He vaguely recalls something similar happening to him as a kid after he had ducked into the lobby of a semi-nice hotel to dodge what he had thought, at the time, was just a weird stalker, but had later realized had only had one eye. In any case, the hotel security guard had practically picked him up by the scruff of his neck, tossing him back out into the street. 

“That’s just your imposter syndrome talking,” she reassures him. “No one is going to throw you out.”

He sure as shit hopes so. It would be a shame to have done all this work for nothing. 

Glancing back at his poster, Percy can’t help but feel… good. Accomplished. Proud. About a school assignment, of all things. 

His poster traces the development of the prow from the Greek penteconter, to the Roman liburna, and finally to the Byzantine dromon, looking at artistic depictions in history. Percy had picked the topic himself, spending hours in the library reading, writing, and hand-drawing cross-sections of the ships on the poster board when the images he had gotten from the Cambridge University library had been too small. It had been grueling, frustrating work, but fun, too. And not nearly as much reading as he had feared.

Dr. Chase proofread it for him. Dr. Bauer signed off on it. And Annabeth had taken one look at it, smiled, then kissed his cheek.

That was the best compliment he had gotten.

Though now he’s kind of torn between showing it off and hiding it away before one of these attendees figures out that he doesn’t belong.

He rocks back and forth and his feet, pursing his lips, randomly clicking his tongue. Annabeth nudges him. “Your ADHD is showing.”

That’s when, finally, one of the attendees steps up to his poster. He certainly has the look of a professor, in a black cable knit sweater with grey, curly hair and a receding hairline, thin, rimless glasses perched on his nose. He squints at Percy’s poster, rubbing his chin with one hand. “Interesting,” he murmurs, in a thick German accent. “Very interesting. This is yours?”

“Um.” He glances at Annabeth, who is frowning at the brochure, silently sounding out words that she can’t read. “Yep. All mine.”

“Very interesting.” He leans in closer, tilting his head. “So you agree with Pryor and Jeffreys about the skeleton-first construction, then?”

Percy blinks. Pryor and Jeffreys had written The Age of the Dromon, arguing that the ram, which had been a key feature of Roman liburnians, had gone away in ancient ship construction because of developments in how they built the hull. Right. “Yes,” he says. “The skeleton-first construction is a lot stronger than the, um,” shit, what was the name for this, Leo had only told him about a million times--oh! “Mortise-and-tenon!” He nearly shrieks. “The mortise-and-tenon method. It, um, it wears out a lot more quickly than the frame, so… yeah.” He clears his throat.

He nods. “Very interesting.” 

Percy stares. Can this guy say anything else? 

“This is very well done, young man.”

Oh. “Thank you,” he says. 

“Who are you working with?” 

“Um, June Bauer?” He winces at the accidental question. 

He frowns. “I’m not familiar with her work. Where does she teach?” 

What a loaded question. “Uh… New Rome University.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s--she used to teach at Northwestern, if that helps. Um, retired,” Percy says.

The frown stays, but at least he doesn’t ask any more questions. “Hmm. Well, this is excellent research, nonetheless. I look forward to reading your dissertation.” Then, distracted by something else, he wanders off, chin still attached to his hand. 

“Who was that?” Annabeth asks. 

Percy shrugs. “Beats me. Also, what’s a dissertation?”

“It’s like a senior thesis, but, like, five hundred pages long.”

Five hundred?! “Fuck me.” 

“Maybe later,” Annabeth smirks. “It looks like you’ve got company.”

Sure enough, a smallish group of four people are approaching, led by Dr. Chase, making a beeline straight for them. “Here we are,” Dr. Chase says, gesturing. “This is the project I was telling you about. Percy, would you mind going over your poster for us?”

“No problem, Dr. C,” says Percy, smiling his least-grimace-y smile. 

As one, the adults all turn to look at him, faces politely blank, expectant.

Percy swallows. “So,” he begins, “um, this research is about the development of ship construction in the Roman empire…”

He trips up on some of the words, and at one point, he sees Dr. Chase squint in the way that usually means that Percy is speaking too fast, but all in all, he doesn’t totally fall flat on his face. His audience looks engaged, nodding along as Percy moves from point to point, and no one accuses him of being a giant fraud, which is pretty nice. 

At one point, Percy turns to the poster to indicate a specific point on his ship diagrams. When he turns back, his audience has suddenly multiplied, four people turning into a whole goddamn crowd. Each person gives him their undivided attention almost unblinking.

His mouth goes dry. “Um…” 

Dr. Chase, bless him, saves his ass once again. “Would mind starting again from the beginning, Percy?” he asks, a little bemused himself at the amount of people that had suddenly appeared. 

Silence stretches on for a moment, the muffled noise of the rest of the conference like a dull roar in his ear. 

Annabeth, behind him, coughs. 

“S-sure. No problem.” 

Swallowing, he closes his eyes, breathing in through his nose. Why, oh why did he let Dr. Bauer talk him into doing this again?

He pictures the tides of Long Island Sound, gentle and rocking, unhurried and unbothered, tries to match his breathing to them. When he opens his eyes, unfortunately, the crowd hasn’t disappeared. Everyone is still staring at him. 

But Annabeth stands next to her dad, flashing him a big smile and two huge thumbs up.

Percy relaxes. He’s got this.

“Okay,” he says. “So, about the middle of the first millennium CE, ship construction went through a couple of major developments…”

This time goes much, much more smoothly. He’s not sure what it is--though it’s probably Annabeth, her face fixed in a gentle smile as she watches him speak. Gods, what did he do in a past life to deserve someone as amazing as his girlfriend? 

That’s the only reason he can do this. Hell, that’s the only reason he even thought to do this. If he didn’t have Annabeth there, encouraging him, cheering him on, he never would have had the confidence to put himself out there like this. She’s there to pick him up when he doubts himself, there to listen when he can’t explain himself, there to give him feedback when he needs to practice. 

She makes him feel so strong. She makes him feel like he can take on the world--or at the very least, that he can impress a handful of academics.

And they certainly seem impressed with his talk so far. 

“Excuse me,” says a nasally, pinched looking older British guy, face lined as though he lived his life in a state of perpetual squinting. “I find your conclusions to be suspect--wouldn’t the frame method be more susceptible to breaking than the mortise-and-tenon?”

Well, most of them, anyway.

Percy shakes his head. “You’d think, but no. If you look at the study by Steffy, you’ll see that the three-finned ram from the Athlit wreck was designed specifically to break the mortise-and-tenon hull by causing the planks to flex, so that they’d dislodge the joinerys right next to them. A blow like that can cause the wood to split right down the middle.” A blow like that had sunk Sherman Yang’s ship when they tested it out on the lake at camp last summer, the naiads practically hurling him out of the water so quickly Percy didn’t even have to dive in to save him.

“How were you able to do these strength tests?” asks another listener, an older woman with a thick Hungarian accent.

“Hands-on battle simulations,” Percy replies, easily. “We took our models and tested them in as accurate a simulation as we could make.”

“And how big were these models?” 

Percy holds his hands apart, a vague, entirely inaccurate estimate. “About thirty meters, give or take.”

Her eyes widen. “How on earth did you get your hands on such a large ship?”

Percy freezes. “Uh.”

Oh, shit.

He had forgotten--most people didn’t have dads who could summon shipwrecks from the bottom of the sea, dropping them off at Camp Half-Blood with nothing but a sand dollar and one or two exhausted, pissed off hippocampi who had had to drag them all the way there.

“Um,” he stammers, licking his lips, thinking fast--c’mon, Percy, think! “I…” He swallows, panicking. “I… b… built one.”

In the corner of his eye, Annabeth facepalms.

Simultaneously, every mouth in the crowd drops--in shock, outrage, and even excitement. “You built one?!” the woman yelps. 

Oops. “I had help,” Percy says, quickly. 

Annabeth adds a second hand to her facepalm.

“Where?” The first man asks, his bushy brows flying above the rim of his glasses.

“At my… summer camp…” 

Dr. Chase sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I mean,” Percy chuckles, shrugging his shoulders, trying not to sweat too obviously, “it was either that or lanyards, am I right?”

Dr. Chase, thank Athena, raises his hand, ready to step in. “What Percy means to say, I believe,” he says, attempting to draw their attention, “is that--”

“That’s amazing!” says another woman, probably a grad student attendee based on the fact that she’s wearing jeans. “Do you have pictures?”

Oh this is not good. “Um, not--not on me, but--”

“I do.” Annabeth takes out her phone, holding it up to the person next to her.

Percy blinks. “You do?” He doesn’t remember her taking any pictures.

She shoots him a look, two parts exasperated and one part “shut up and let me handle this,” with just a dash of fondness in the mix. Pointedly, she looks at him, eyebrows raised, indicating that he should continue.

Oh. She’s using Mist. And he needs to keep their attention on him so that they buy it. “Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Any more questions?” 

His audience placated for now, passing around Annabeth’s phone, he manages to finish up his presentation. After fielding a few more questions, people start to peel off, distracted by other posters and presenters in the ballroom. When everyone has finally wandered away, Dr. Chase comes up and pats Percy’s shoulder awkwardly. “Nice work,” he says, and he seems like he means it. “A little touch-and-go there for a while, hm?”

“A little.”

He chuckles. “Still, you should be proud. I don’t know how many undergraduates would be able to handle that kind of pressure.”

“I mean,” Percy says, shrugging a shoulder, “it’s about on par with leading an army. Maybe a little less.” Honestly, maybe even a little more stressful. If a monster had decided to attack the convention center and interrupt his presentation, he probably would have been relieved.

He’d been worried for a moment that he’d undone all those years of work in making Annabeth’s dad like him. And that he’d be charged with some sort of academic fraud, for the whole “I have a boat” thing without proof. Thank the gods for Annabeth, as always.

She’s looking at him now through narrowed eyes. She at least can’t be surprised--that was far from the dumbest thing she’s ever seen him do. At least his “I spent most of my time at magic greek mythology summer camp” covers are normally better than hers. As someone who spent his formative years in the real world, he’s usually pretty good at keeping the demigod thing under wraps. 

“Come on,” she says, grabbing his hand. She pulls him off, through the dispersing crowd, lacing their fingers together, sweet and intimate, out of the hall and then down another one, and through a smaller corridor. Bringing them up to a little door, with a shake of her wrist, she pulls out her Estruscan keyring bracelet. About several of the keys have found themselves used in various misadventures, vanishing once their purpose is fulfilled, but her favorite key is still there. And, just like a clever child of Hermes, it can pick just about any lock. 

Inside is just an empty room, a little staging area surrounded by tiered desks going up, no more or less remarkable than any of the other conference rooms they’d visited before. 

“What--?” His question is cut off by Annabeth’s mouth on his. 

Surprising, but definitely not unwelcome.

It's a while before they separate again. “You’re so good at this,” she tells him, unbuttoning his shirt.

He runs his hands along the lines of her flanks. “I’ve had a lot of practice,” he grins. He’d practice kissing her all day long if he could. 

She smiles, shaking her head. “No, not this,” though she does lean in for another kiss, pulling at his lower lip with her teeth. “I know you’re good at this.” They break away, Percy pulling her shirt over her head, Annabeth shucking off his. “But history. Presenting.” She runs a finger over his chest, kissing his cheek, headed towards the sensitive spot on his jaw. “Gods, you’re so smart.” 

Something about the praise vibrates through his chest. She doesn’t sound surprised, or anything, just--turned on.

“You had all those crusty academics eating out of your hand. Just, so impressed by you, knowing you know way more than they do about naval history. When you were explaining the--” Her compliment is cut off with a moan, as he leans down and starts sucking on her throat. Her blouse has a high neck, so he feels no guilt for using his teeth.  

“Watching you today, gods.” Her breath is labored as his fingers play at the waistline of her skirt. “And then thinking of you defending your dissertation.” He bites at her jugular, and she lets out a long, deep moan. 

“I don’t know what that means.” Do academics fight each other? Like, with weapons? He’s pretty sure he can take most of the people he met today. 

“It means you get to show off how smart you are,” Annabeth says, grasping his shoulders, pulling him in for another kiss. “I was born the day my dad defended his. Gods, it's going to be amazing to watch you go.” She yanks his belt out of his pants, tossing it to the floor. 

They miss the panel on recent translation efforts. But Percy can’t say he minds one bit. 

And when Annabeth presents him with a positive pregnancy test two months later, Percy definitely knows he made the right decision. 

4) 

He almost doesn’t realize he’s having a dream-vision at first.

It has been literal years since he’s had a demigod dream. Hell, it’s been a long while since he’s had a dream, period--being a new dad to a one-and-a-half-year-old saps too much of his energy to even think about dreaming. Once Junie is put to bed, when he’s out, he is fucking out, and he does not have the brainpower to spare to manifest any messed up subconscious fears.

Which is why when he blinks open his eyes, taking in the too-bright colors of the Parthenon and the gleaming shine of the bronze statues which are somehow all looking at him--also, you know, how the Parthenon is complete, standing as it did thousands of years ago, and not crumbled into ruins--he knows, immediately, he is being contacted by a god.

And only one god in particular would bring him to Athens.

Without even checking, he heaves himself up off the ground, folding into a kneel. “My lady Athena,” he says, “can I ask for what quest you’ve brought me here?”

“Impertinent as ever, Percy Jackson,” rumbles the goddess, but Percy doesn’t think he can sense any ill will towards him. He hopes, anyway. “Perhaps I have summoned you here for a social visit.”

“Perhaps,” he says, choosing his next words as carefully as possible. “But I assume you have too much to worry about to randomly check up on your daughter’s boyfriend.”

He lifts his head, catching her expression--stoic as always, but maybe with just the barest hint of a smile. “You assume correctly. You have become, contrary to my initial expectations, very wise in the time that I have known you.”

“Thank you.” He knows better than to do anything but accept the compliment for what it is.

“I have observed your work as a scholar in recent years, and I must say that I am surprised, yet pleased, that you have chosen to pursue such a path. I had not thought you to be suited for a world of old men and dusty papers.”

He grits his teeth. Don’t rise to the bait, don’t rise to the bait, don’t rise to the bait--

“I understand, as well, that though you and my daughter have,” and here her careful composition cracks, just the slightest, the tiny lift of her lips falling, “made a child together.”

Percy swallows. He figured, you know, in the abstract, that Athena would know about Junie, but hearing her say it out loud is… well, he’s just glad that Dr. Chase has always liked him. “Yes, my lady.”

“It is customary in your time to marry prior to childbirth, is it not?”

“It is.” Oh, fuck, is she going to smite him for that? “I--that is to say, we, Annabeth and I, we, um, we definitely want to get married, but, Annabeth kind of…” 

He trails off. He can’t tell Athena, goddess of war, that his daughter pissed off the queen of heaven! And if he does, he definitely can’t imply that it was because she was being too stubborn!

“I know well of my daughter’s history with my father’s wife,” Athena says, smoothly. “I come to you now with an offer of peace.”

Percy straightens his back. Peace?

Raising one graceful arm, Athena turns, indicating the structure behind her. “Look upon my temple,” she intones. The white marble shines even more powerfully against the blue and red paint, intricate scenes and figures ringing the top of the columns. “In the time of Pericles, it was built to commemorate the victory of Hellas over the armies of Xerxes the Great. It was to be the shining beacon of our world, a triumph of our power and influence over the race of men.”

The race of men might have had something to say about that, he thinks to himself.

“But it was not to be,” Athena says, mournfully. “As our influence waned, so too did our temple, until its might was all but forgotten.” 

Before his eyes, the paint fades away, ceilings and columns collapsing, the destruction of the Parthenon playing out in front of him. 

“Some two hundred years ago,” she says, her voice taking on a darker, more dangerous tone, “a grave insult was paid to the ruins of my ancient sanctuary.” Like curtains falling on a stage, darkness swallowed up the structure, swift and impenetrable. “Many treasures were taken from my temple, stolen, by foolish, greedy men, spirited away far to the north, where they have languished in unworthy hands.”

He narrows his eyes. She can’t possibly be talking about--

Athena turns back to him, her eyes blazing, somehow twice as tall. “Retrieve my treasures,” she commands, war personified, “return the prizes of Athens to their rightful place, and I shall give you my support against my father’s wife.”

“You…” Percy leans back on his haunches, staring dumbfounded up at the goddess. “You don’t happen to mean the Parthenon Marbles, do you?”

“Yes.”

“The ones in the British Museum.”

“The same,” she says, imperious as ever.

Fantastic. “Welp,” Percy says, slapping his thighs, scrambling up. “Thanks for the offer, but I’ll have to decline. Nice seeing you, by the way. I’ll tell Annabeth you stopped by.”

Her sharp gazes pierces him, full of fury. “You dare to refuse my support?”

He snorts. “When it means trying to get the UK to give the marbles back, absolutely. Do you know how stubborn they are about this?”

Lightning flashes behind her, nearly blinding him. “You will regret this,” Athena says, dark and foreboding. “You may have your father’s goodwill, but the queen of Olympus is clever and cunning, her displeasure swift and merciless.”

But Percy still shakes his head. “When Annabeth and I get married,” and it’s definitely a ‘when,’ it’s just a matter of when precisely, like after Junie can sleep through the night maybe, “I’d rather take my chances with Hera than try and untangle that particular can of olives.”

A growl, and a snap of her fingers, and Athena disappears.

With a start, Percy wakes up. Junie had gotten her chubby little hands around his nose, and had decided to pull.

“Ow, ow, Junie, hey,” he squawks, attempting to dislodge her grip from his face. “Hey, I’m awake, it’s okay.”

She laughs, illegally adorable, her grey eyes sparkling, squeezing harder. 

“Okay, okay,” he laughs along with her. “You got my nose, you win.”

As if she were waiting for him to admit defeat, she lets go, clapping her pudgy toddler hands together. 

“That’s right,” he picks her up, raising her above his head. “Barely sixteen months old and you already know how to take me down, don’t you? Just like your mommy.”

She smiles, waving her little fists.

Gods he loves this little monster.

Junie really is the best parts of both of them. She’s got her daddy’s hair but her mommy’s brain, quick and sharp and painfully adorable. She’s already learning to read Greek, Annabeth sitting her in her lap and sounding out vowels together, Annabeth taking her finger and tracing it over the letter shapes. This kid absorbs information like a sponge, which Percy can only assume is the natural conclusion of taking a son of Poseidon and a daughter of Athena and mixing their DNA together. 

Thinking about his dream, he frowns. “What do you think, Junie,” he asks his toddler. “Should I take her up on her offer?”

The baby says nothing.

“I mean,” he tilts his head, “Greece has been trying to get the marbles back for two hundred years. UNESCO has top lawyers on this. What does Athena think I can do?”

Junie blinks at him.

“On the other hand, I do really love your mom,” he admits, “and I really want to marry her. You’d like that, right? To have your parents be married?”

There’s no way she can understand what he’s saying, but she moves her head like she’s nodding. Or maybe she does understand. She is Annabeth’s daughter after all. 

Percy sighs. Dammit.

Time for a new project, he guesses.

***

Several months, a college graduation, and one relocation to Boston later, Percy growls, hurling his pencil at the wall. Mother fucker. Fuck the British Museum, fuck his tiny laptop screen, and fuck the Italian prick who decided to have the least ADHD-friendly handwriting of all time. 

Why the hell is he doing this again? Like, seriously. Why in all of Hades is he, an inexperienced, snot-nosed, first year master’s student deciding to tackle the return of the fucking Parthenon marbles of all things. Like, what is wrong with him? 

Roughly scrubbing his fingers through his hair, Percy stands up. He has to go for a walk, clear his head, or he might actually explode. 

Then he catches a glimpse of the photo pinned to the fridge.

Percy’s mom had taken it, a candid of Percy and Annabeth and Junie on a sunny day in Central Park. There, in perfect 1080p, Junie is laughing, at what he can’t even remember, her pudgy fists yanking on Percy’s hair, while her mother and the love of his life does nothing to extricate Percy from her grip, her face screwed up so hard she had tears in her eyes. 

Percy had talked a lot of shit to the goddess of war’s face, but truth be told… Hera still terrifies him a little. Which, he assumes, was her goal all along, but it would be nice to marry Annabeth without fear of something going terribly wrong--or, gods forbid, something happening to Junie. That simply was not a risk he was willing to take. Percy is content to spend the rest of his days as Annabeth’s life-partner and roommate, if it means that the queen of the heavens won’t have a reason to take out her issues on his children.

Even if the engagement ring in the back of the pantry is gathering dust. 

Sunlight, wan but warm, falls in from the window, landing perfectly on his pile of open books. “I know, I know,” he growls, speaking to the air, rubbing his face so it doesn’t get stuck in a permanent glare. “I just--I just need a few minutes, okay? Let me go down the block and get a coffee or something. Two minutes, Lady Athena.”

The light fades. Percy takes that as an acquiescence, angrily scribbling a note. He’s not sure when Annabeth and Junie will be back, but even angry as he is, he doesn’t want to worry them.

Snatching up his jacket, he slams the door shut, stomping out of his apartment building and down the streets of Boston. He must be accidentally doing his wolf stare, because people are practically flinging themselves out of his path as he hurtles down the sidewalk. Literally--some girl is walking her husky, and the poor dog actually whimpers, cowering as Percy rounds the corner. 

Coming to a stop, Percy slaps his hands over his face, drawing in a deep, shuddering breath. 

He might be in over his head a little.

Sighing, he looks to his right. He’s standing outside of a Starbucks. 

Percy doesn’t drink coffee, Annabeth does. And he knows exactly how much of a coffee snob his girlfriend is. Starbucks? Overpriced, overrated, over-sweetened garbage.

He pushes the door open, sliding up to the counter. “I’ll take a… iced mocha, I guess,” he says. “Large.”

“No problem,” chirps the barista. “I’ll have that out for you in a minute.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

One thing Starbucks does have going for it, though, are really good napkins for doodling.

Slumping down in his uncomfortable metal chair, elbows resting on the hard, faux-wood table, Percy takes out his pen, and doodles aimlessly on the brown napkins. No, not that pen. Just because it can write doesn’t mean that Percy wants to risk slicing his face open every time he has a stray idea. Completely out of the blue, Annabeth had gotten him a nice set of pens, and ever since then, Percy always keeps one on him. Now, if he could just remember to use the little notebook she had gotten him, too.

Percy is not an artist by any stretch of the imagination. He doesn’t have an image in mind, just lets his pen move, drawing endless chains of triangles and stars, nebulous shapes which form themselves into Greek letters. After he catches himself writing γλαυκῶπις for the eighth time in a row, he sighs, dropping his pen, and picks up the cup, taking a sip.

Yuck. At least the chocolate outweighs the coffee taste a little.

Gods, and their cups are always, like, drenched from condensation--not that Percy can feel it, but there’s practically a whole other drink on the outside of the plastic, dripping all over Percy’s pile of doodle napkins. That must be why they give out so many.

Grumbling, he mops up the mess, ink smudged into a blue-brown slurry.

He stops. 

He squints at one of his doodles. 

Not that anyone else could tell, but Percy had apparently been trying to recreate the signature of Ottoman sultan Selim III, the guy who had supposedly authorized the Earl of Elgin to take the Parthenon Marbles. Percy had been staring at copies of his signature all damn day, trying to tell if it had been forged or copied, but classical Arabic was just so far beyond anything he could even begin to wrap his head around. It was gorgeous work, but even looking at it made Percy’s eyes swim.

This particular doodle is not his best attempt. It looks nothing like the signature. It’s smudged, blotchy, but in a way that’s… weirdly familiar. 

Snatching the napkin up, Percy bolts from the Starbucks, leaving his mocha behind.

Taking the steps of his apartment building two at a time, he bursts into his kitchen. His set up is exactly how he left it, books spread out all over the table, laptop shut and laid askew, the dry, half-eaten remains of his morning muffin on a plate on top of his encyclopedia of illuminated manuscripts--except for one book, the one on Ottoman history of the nineteenth century. It’s been opened, its pages facing the door, in the exact opposite direction of all the other books. 

“Hello?” he calls into the apartment. “Anyone home?”

No response. 

Percy approaches the table. 

From the pages, Selim III stares at him, his portrait rendered in black and white, sitting just above a figure of his signature, his tughra. 

Percy picks up the book, squinting. 

The signature is crisp, clean, a work of art all by itself. 

He looks at his napkin drawing. Blurry and smudged.

Opening his laptop, he pulls up the scans of the documents in the British museum, zooms in on the letter’s seal.

Blurry and smudged.

Percy stares. 

It… can’t be that simple, can it?

In a daze, he fires an email off to his new grad advisor. Hopefully he won’t mind Percy sticking his nose in where he doesn’t belong. Hey Dr. T--was looking at the Parthenon marbles docs in the BM (don’t ask) and I noticed this weird smudge on the tughra. Lazy scribe, maybe?

And he closes his computer.

Later that night, while he puts Junie to bed, he gets a response. not sure. sent it to a colleague for a closer look. 

He can’t even be bothered to really think about it though, not with Junie looking up at him with Annabeth’s eyes, and asking for another book. “Alright, kiddo,” he acquiesces, settling in beside her. All her story books are in ancient Greek, and at age two, she’s starting to recognize the letters. “Which one are you thinking?” 

“Daw-fins, daddy,” she says, smiling.

“Dolphins, eh? Getting Mr. D on your side early, I see. As smart as mommy.” He leans down and kisses her forehead before he starts to read her the story of the sailors and their sudden dolphin madness. 

***

“Huh,” Percy says to himself a few weeks later, as he and Annabeth are chilling on the couch, watching some Netflix.

His advisor has forwarded him an article from the BBC (New evidence suggests Elgin documents to be forgeries) with an accompanying note: Amazing catch! 

“What is it?” Annabeth asks, nudging him with her elbow--a feat, since she also has an armful of a squirmy Junie to deal with.

“Update in the Parthenon marbles thing.”

That gets her attention. Anything Parthenon-related does. “Really?”

He shows her his phone.

Her eyes go wide as saucers. “Damn.”

“Yep.” He doesn’t realize he’s smiling until he feels his lips pulling at the sides of his mouth. 

“My mom is probably your biggest fan right now.”

He starts. “What did you say?”

Turning back to the TV, she still manages to cast him a weird look. “I said, my mom will probably love you for this.”

A beat, then Percy practically somersaults over the couch, darting into the kitchen. Wrenching open the pantry door, he shoves his hand behind their collection of flours, fingers grasping for--

“If you’re looking for any more sacrificial cookies,” Annabeth calls after him, “we burned them all when Junie got a cold.”

“Remind me to make some more,” says Percy, pulling out his prize. It’s a little dusty, streaks of flour clinging to the blue velvet. “I have a feeling we’ll need them.”

“Oh yeah?” She chuckles. “What, did Olympus put in a special order?” 

Percy slides back down next to her, ring hidden in his closed fist. “Can I have the baby for a sec?”

Eyes fixed to the screen, Annabeth passes her over. Junie’s hands automatically reach for his nose, ready to grab, but Percy places the ring in her grasp instead, kissing her forehead. “Hey, babe?” he asks Annabeth, handing her back. “I think our daughter has something for you.”

Annabeth takes her without a second glance. 

Then she does take a second glance.

Ring closed in her pudgy toddler fist, Junie holds it out to her.

Annabeth gapes. 

“So,” Percy says, wrapping an arm around her shoulder, “quick confession: I wasn’t just working on the marbles for fun.”

Annabeth just stares. Junie babbles.

“Your mom told me that if I helped get the marbles back, she’d back us against Hera if we ever got married. So…” He trails off, waiting for her response. As close as he is, he can see the tears start to well up in her eyes--a good sign. “Shall we?” he prompts.

“Oh thank all the gods.” Annabeth is crying, because she's Annabeth. And because she's Annabeth, she also wastes no time in transferring Junie to her other side, and holding out her hand so Percy can slide the ring on her finger. “I was so worried I'd have to have Chase on my Masters’ diploma, too.”

5)

Percy is making sauce when his phone lights up. He hits speaker. “Hey.”

“Hey man,” comes the tinny voice of Magnus. “Sorry I missed your call earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Percy says, “I figured you were dying or something.”

Magnus’ eye roll is almost palpable. “Very funny. What’s up?”

Bringing the spoon to his lips, he blows on it, taking a taste, before reaching for the salt. Needs way more. “Do you happen to have any Varangian guards in Hotel Valhalla?”

“Varangian guards? Uh, maybe. Probably. Why?”

“I’m doing a thing on the attempted reconquest of Sicily,” he says, lowering the heat a little to a simmer, “and I’m having some trouble piecing together the Battle of Montemaggiore. Know anyone who was in it?” 

Magnus hums. “I’ll ask around. Anyone in particular you’re looking for?”

Rifling through their little spice cabinet, he makes a mental note to get a new thing of hot sauce, tipping the rest of it into the pot. “If you have anyone who fought under Harald Hardrada, that would be great.”

“Hardrada? I’m pretty sure he lives on the fifth floor.”

Percy nearly drops the bottle. “No shit?”

“Big dude, long mustache, writes poetry?”

“Yes!” He picks up the phone, grinning from ear to ear. “Do you think I could come up and talk to him sometime?”

“Sure, but I thought you were doing something on Homer’s identity?”

He groans. “Backburnered for now until she stops driving me crazy.” No matter how many times Percy tells her, he can’t just drop the “Homer was actually an Egyptian woman” bomb without some serious evidence backing that up. And forgery is not one of his strong suits. Hence the need for a different topic for the time being.

“Has everyone ever told you your life is weird?”

“No, why do you ask?”

His phone suddenly vibrates, shocking him so badly he nearly drops it into the saucepan. Almost home, texts the love of his life, a shot of serotonin directly into his bloodstream. V hungry

“Sorry, Magnus, but I gotta run. Thanks for your help.”

“No problem. Say hi to my cousin for me.”

“Can do.”

“And make sure you pick a date soon! Sam needs to know so she can schedule her flight home.”

“Soon as I can.” You know, when his brain isn’t melting from grading undergrad papers. And making sure Annabeth and Junie are fed. And that Annabeth doesn’t lose herself in graduate school. And finding Junie a new preschool after she destroyed a classroom last month because of a monster. His toddler is a badass. But he’s a little worried she’s gonna follow Mommy and Daddy’s example as far as school goes. 

Sometimes, he thinks that their wedding just won’t ever happen. With Athena on board, he figured it would happen sooner or later, but time just… keeps getting away from them. Which isn’t the end of the world. A lifetime at Annabeth’s side is all he really needs, Mrs. Jackson or no. But he’s seen the silver fabric she weaved for her wedding dress. It would be a shame for all that hard work to go to waste.

And, yeah, he wants to see his little Junie dancing down the aisle flinging seaweed before her mother. He wants his mom to cry a little and he wants all his friends to be there to celebrate with them. Is that so much to ask? 

Speaking of his two favorite girls--”We’re home!” Annabeth calls from the hallway. “Junie, go say hi to daddy!”

Her bare feet slapping against the floor, his daughter comes toddling in, making a beeline for him. “Hey, kiddo,” Percy says, scooping her up. “How’s my best girl?”

“She’s just fine, thanks,” Annabeth says, setting her work bag down on the table. “Tell me I don’t have to wait for dinner--Margie kept me for the entirety of my lunch break, and I am starving.” 

“Just gotta make a salad and we should be good to go.” But he makes no move to finish chopping vegetables, entirely too enraptured with the way Junie smiles when Percy sticks his tongue out at her. “Let me guess,” he says. “Does my best girl want some olives?”

“Peas,” Junie says. 

“Oh, you want peas instead?”

She giggles, waving her arms. “Elaia, daddy!”

“Fine,” and he kisses her nose. “Extra olives for you.”

“Chip off the old block,” Annabeth says.

Handing her back to her mother, Percy sighs. “When am I going to get a kid who likes anchovies?”

“I’m doing my best here, okay?”

***

Hardrada is… not what he expected.

“Reputation isn’t that bad.” Hardrada is saying. “The production isn’t what it should be, but lots of her lyrics are still on point.” 

“The production ruins it,” Percy insists. “And as a follow up to 1989? It's just bad.” 

“And what about Lover?”

“What about Lover?”

“You can’t argue with the genius of that one.”

“It is terribly inconsistent,” Percy shoots back. “Yeah, ‘The Archer’ and ‘Daylight’ and ‘Miss Americana’ are sublime, but ‘ME!’? Come on!”

“Are you one of those people who thinks she peaked at Red?”

“Red is a bop from start to finish,” Percy fires back. “But she definitely peaked at folklore.”

“Thinking she peaked at folklore is just pedestrian when ‘tis the damn season’ exists!” Hardrada yells, drawing his axe, which is then promptly flung over Percy’s head. 

As the only mortal in a room full of armed, excitable, undead Taylor Swift stans, Percy beats a hasty exit, Magnus and Jason covering him as he flees, because they’re just so thoughtful like that. Percy’s pretty sure he saw Magnus take an arrow to the knee, going down in a heap, before he shuts the door to the hotel, finding himself in a Forever 21. 

Looking over his notes later as he gets back to his apartment in the North End, he frowns. They had spent… approximately twenty minutes talking about Sicily before getting solidly off track. Who knew an eleventh century viking would have such intense feelings about pop music? 

And now he’s singing “seven” to himself as he unlocks the apartment door, because it's a good song, and because it made him think of Annabeth. And he always wants to think of Annabeth. 

“Hey, babe,” he calls into the apartment, toeing off his shoes. “I’m back!”

He gets no response.

Percy looks up, confused. “Annabeth?”

“In the bathroom,” he hears, faintly. 

“Everything okay?”

“Yep! Totally fine!” she says, unconvincingly. 

“Alright,” he calls back. “Let me know if you need something.”

Moving Junie’s toys out of the way, he drops down onto the couch, grabbing his laptop. Hopefully he can make some sort of sense of the… notes… that he got from Hardrada. Though he’s probably going to have to trek out to Beacon Hill again, which, while not really out of his way, does mean he has to hike a bit from the Park Street station through the Commons, which makes him super sweaty and out of breath. It’s just embarrassing, walking into a hotel full of the greatest warriors of Valhalla, and Percy can barely handle a hill. 

However, he’s not so out of practice that he can’t sense Annabeth coming up behind him. “You good?”

“What do you think about getting married by the end of the month?”

“Sure,” he says, pecking at his computer. Damn autocorrect ruining all the Norse names. He keeps forgetting to download the right language package he needs. “But I thought you wanted to wait until after you turned in your portfolio?”

“Well… I might not be able to fit in my dress if we wait much longer.”

That gets his attention.

Percy turns around, slowly. Annabeth is grinning, holding a thin little piece of plastic with a circle on the end. She wiggles it. 

“Is that…?”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

Her smile falls. “Are you mad?”

“What? No!” Percy slides his computer off his lap, twisting around to face her, up on his knees. “No, no, not at all. I’m not mad.” She slings her arms around his neck, pregnancy test warm against his skin. “I just…” 

Eyes warm, she looks into his, unafraid. “What is it?”

“It’s…” It’s silly, is what it is. But this is Annabeth. If he can’t tell her, who can he tell? “I just feel bad that I’ve gotten you pregnant twice before getting married.”

“Well, at least I’m not nineteen this time,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “But maybe we wouldn’t have this problem if you weren’t such a horndog.”

Percy snorts. “Me? What about you, Annabeth ‘3 AM anal before my first lecture’ Chase.”

“Jackson,” she corrects.

“Huh?”

“It’s Annabeth ‘3 AM anal before your first lecture’ Jackson.”

Grinning, he presses his mouth to hers. After all this time, she still smells like lemons, her lips soft and warm. “Not yet it’s not.”

“Then let’s make it happen.”

And, well, Percy can’t think of a better plan.

+1

Jamie hisses. “Fuuuuuck,” she whispers, the sound dropping like a stone in the dead lecture hall. “Goddamn shit fuck ass.”

And the worst part is, she’d actually spent a lot of time preparing for her Latin midterm. She’d made flashcards, she’d drilled noun endings, she’d even slept with the textbook under her pillow for fuck’s sake. 

Typical--the moment she sits down to take the test, it all goes out the window. 

“Legistne carmen longum de Troiano,” she reads under her breath, as though saying it out loud will unlock some hidden secrets of the cosmos. 

Nope. Nothing. The multiple choices remain as inscrutable as ever.

“Psst.” 

Jamie looks up. 

There’s a four year old staring at her. 

“Hi,” Jamie says. 

“Hi,” says the four year old. Junie, her name is, she thinks. 

Mr. Jackson, Jamie’s Latin TA, will bring his kids to class with him sometimes--his wife works full time, and Jamie guesses that they can’t afford a babysitter. She’s a cute kid, quiet, usually sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, drawing or even knitting, sometimes with her little sister playing with toy ships next to her. 

Now, she’s still staring at her. “What’s up?” Jamie asks.

“Bello,” says Junie.

Jamie blinks. “Sorry?”

“Legistne carmen longum de bello Troiano.” 

She squints down at her test sheet, attempting to visualize her flash cards. That’s… “Bello” is the right answer.

The fuck? The fucking four year old can speak Latin? “Thanks,” she whispers. 

Junie beams at her.

Darting her eyes to the front of the lecture hall, Jamie spies her professor, Buck, completely conked out at his desk, his chest rising and falling with his snores. Percy is nowhere to be seen, his laptop open at his chair. “What’s the next one?” Jamie turns her paper so that Junie can see better.

“Pluto Proserpinam infelicem cepit,” she announces, perfectly accented.

Jamie points to the one after that.

“Rex qui pontem fecit erat Ancus Martius.”

“Awesome.” 

The door to the lecture hall opens. Jamie whips around in her seat, startled, and sees her TA, walking down the steps. From the corner of her eye, Junie disappears, booking it to her dad, who scoops her up without missing a beat. “Hey kiddo,” he murmurs, smiling crookedly. “Were you bothering my students?” Then he glances at Jamie. “Sorry about that--hope she wasn’t too annoying.”

But Jamie shakes her head. “It’s fine.” Dammit. 

Still smiling, Percy makes his way back down to his seat. Junie grins at her over his shoulder, her arms wrapped tightly around her dad’s neck.

At the beginning of the semester, Professor Buck had droned on and on about Mr. Jackson, about how he was one of the best up-and-coming classics scholars in the world, how he could have had his pick of PhD programs, and how NYU was lucky to have him. He got first pick of assistantships this semester, apparently, but had volunteered to teach Latin 1001, and they should all be grateful, because he had done some beautiful new translation of Virgil for his Master’s thesis, and they were all going to learn a lot from him. 

Turning back to her exam, Jamie snorts. Of course a guy like that would have a kid who could speak perfect Latin. 

She really should have just stuck with German instead. 

[teacupcollector]

I Tolerate You... (Sherlock x Reader

Main Masterlist

Fluff Promptlist

Summary - Ever since meeting Sherlock everything seemed to be to be going great. Your life was spiraling upwards but so is your feelings for the great detective. When Molly’s jealous words get the better of you. Your insecurity seems to push Sherlock more in your direction causing another stepping stone to some thing greater and something more then just a friendship. Anon Requested: 7 and 27 from the Fluff Promptlist

Ever since John moved out you have taken his place. You are now tasked on going everywhere with Sherlock but you don’t mind. Problem is, is the slight age difference. He didn’t get your humor especially the slang that you use on a daily bases since you went back to college. 

You dropped out at 20 but now a few years later here you are again. Sherlock was really good when it came to certain assignments, like chemistry, or math but that isn’t the only thing he is good at. He has a great mind and sometimes it is hard to keep up. Unlike John he took time to explain his thought process to you. You didn’t know why though you weren’t anything special. Just a college student who has to much time on their hands. Mycroft seemed to think the same for a time. Yet he has never seen Sherlock treat any other woman this way. Mycroft is the only one who can see how taboo this partnership is/can be. He could tell that Sherlock had no idea of your affections and vise-versa/ There is a good 10 years between you but the chemistry between the two of you is strong. Mycroft decided to give you a chance. He had many tea meetings with you when Sherlock was out. He confronted you on your feelings which you proceeded to deny but once he swore to secrecy you began to spill the beans. “I mean I don’t know if what I feel exactly is “love” but I know I feel strongly for him...”  Mycroft sat and listened before asking. “What made these feelings come about?” This caused you to pause. “I know everyone says this but he really is brilliant, but I don’t want him for that reason.” You pause again trying to gather your thoughts. “He is very... I don’t know the term... accommodating? Sweet maybe? He doesn’t make me feel bad about myself.” You say dragging your thumb along the rim of your cup. “He doesn’t make me feel like a college drop out though I know he deduced it from the start he didn’t point it out... And you know Sherlock he will take any opportunity to show his brilliance.” Mycroft looks at you before saying. “What stops you from pursuing him?” He asks and you shrug. “I am to young for him... I am 24 about to turn 25 and he is in his mid-thirties.” You let out a sigh. “And I know I am way to childish for him. He would probably want someone more his age...” You say. Mycroft begins to interject but you continue to speak. “I mean. He must have deduced that I liked him... He just doesn’t want to say anything. I don’t blame him though. I would rather be here and stay his friend then not be here and lose what we have...” Mycrofts eyes seem to widen. “You really care for him don’t you...” You nod. 

“Yeah... Honestly I don’t know if I would still be here if it wasn’t for him. He showed me that set backs don’t determine what a great mind can do.” You look up at Mycroft “ In Sherlocks case it may be social cues or understanding certain emotion. For me?” You set the tea cup down and place your hands in your lap. “For me it is my lack of motivation... He gives me that motivation. He inspired me to go back to college. I dropped out when I was 20. I was 23 when I met him and here I am nearly 25 and I am already at the top of my class.”  Mycroft shifts slightly. “That is truely inspiring (Y/N). I am glad my brother has done some good but I will say he can be quite oblivious.” Mycroft stands up grabbing his umbrella and hanging it over his wrist. “That may work out in your favor because so far I believe he hasn’t caught on to your affections.”  He walks over to the main door and turns back to you. “If something does become of you... You have my blessing.” He says with a nod before exiting. You feel heat come to your cheeks when you hear the door in the floor bellow slam shut.

As of right now you are sitting in front of him as he looks through his microscope in the morgue lab thing. He was spewing some facts on a current case when he notices that you weren’t adding anything to the conversation. He looks up at you and you just continue to stare. “Has my excellence rendered you speechless?” He asks with a smug look on his face and you groan. “No dude you have fuzz in your hair.” You say and lean over and pretend to remove something from his hair. In reality you just wanted to run your hair through his magnificent curls. “Why do you insist on calling me dude? You sound more American by the day.” He says and you laugh. “I am American dipshit.” Sherlock only rolls his eyes. “And insanely vulgar as usual (Y/N)...” “Just admit it! You are so in love with me.” You say. This causes you to let out another ugly belly laugh. If your eyes weren’t closed you would have noticed Sherlock’s slight smile before he continued with his work while you continue your math homework. Suddenly the door opens to see Molly who you have come acquainted with, yet she seems a little standoffish. You feel her look between the two of you. “Hey Molly!” You say and she gives a strained yet polite “Hi.” You continue your work. “You know a lab is no place to do college work.” Molly says as she walks up next to Sherlock. He doesn’t look up from his work but he says. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you Molly...” He says in his regular monotone voice. You both look shocked. “Why would I be jealous of her!” Molly exclaims. “She is just some college student! She’s ju-” “She is just a woman who receives most of my attention.” He says turning toward her  “That is what makes you jealous Molly and your vibe is off putting now please.” He waves her off and Molly has a shocked look but she quickly rushes off while saying “You are even using her terminology...” Sherlock goes back to writing his notes when you speak up. “She is right you know... I am just a college student.” You say fiddling with your pencil. Sherlock pauses and looks up again. “Like... I don’t understand why you chose me as your partner in solving crime...” You say and begin packing your things. “You are feeling insecure. You shouldn’t let things people say get to you.” You pause in your packing and look up at him. Sherlock stands up and moves around the table and stands in front of you.

“I can’t really help it Sherlock... I mean why should she be jealous. She is a beautiful woman who is way closer to your age a-” “Why would your age affect how I feel?” He asks looking down at you. You have yet to meet his eye. “And what do you feel Sherlock? I am just some college drop out looking for redemption...I am nothing special...” You feel Sherlock place a hand on your shoulder. “Plus you don’t feel anything. Well for me at least. You always said sentiment was a weakness... And you also sa-” “I know what I say (Y/N)!” He exclaims causing you to jump and look up at him. “Sentiment is a weakness.” He says and your face falls. “It’s a feeling and I am not use to it. I’m not use to you.” You look confused and go to say something but he covers your mouth. “Let me speak... I am not good with words and I need to get this out.” He says and uncovers your mouth. He places both hands on your shoulders and sighs. “I am not use to you as in... I am not use to the feelings you give me... I... I don’t know the feeling it’s just.” He pauses for a moment and paces away from you his back facing you. “I know... I feel... I… I tolerate you… That is the only way I can describe it. I know it isn’t the chemical imbalance of love at least... at least not yet but I-” “I love you too Sherlock...” Sherlock's posture straightens as he turns around. You walk up to him and smile. “I know you don’t understand it yet and you don’t have to say it back but... I will be here waiting for when you are ready.” You say and he nods. “Thank you (Y/N)...” He leans down and kisses your temple. “I really... I really appreciate that.” Your face was beet red which caused a smirk to come over his face but overall this was the best moment you will probably have your entire life. It is sad that someone was there watching you waiting to ruin it.

[cinnamonest]

Daily Life - Scaramouche

Ahhh ye I loved writing those. For anyone who hasn’t seen them I’m linking the posts from when I did this theme with Kaeya and Diluc as well as the one with Zhongli, Xiao, and Childe

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

He's... not much of a morning person. He's actually pretty quiet in the mornings, he's still groggy and having to wake up and all that. So he doesn't say much, just kinda nudges you. Do NOT make him do it twice, though, no doing the thing where you groan and roll over or beg for more time. He'll just yank the covers off of you. 

That's if *he* wakes up first, though, which is... unlikely. It's more likely you will find yourself in the reverse situation -- telling this grown ass man that yes you have to get up. Yes you have to go to work. You're going to be late. Come on. Get up. I'll make you food if you do. Please. It... takes a while. He’s actually late quite a bit due to his tendency to wait until the last possible minute and drag his feet. Not that anyone ever has to audacity to actually confront him about it. It can almost be kinda... cute? In a weird way. Just don’t actually say that out loud.

But still, it's rather surprisingly quiet. Yeah, sure, he could get food from his work, there's certainly a sort of eating area where they provide food for the masses of the underlings, but it's gross so, eating here it is. He used to do that before. Not that he would actually, god forbid, sit around and mingle with anyone, but he used to take it and go munch on whatever was provided, by himself. Just because it was easier and the man has probably never cooked anything in his life, doesn't know how to, but you do right? Well, if you don't, figure it out. Now that he has you he shouldn't have to go out of his way to get fed, you can do that, make yourself useful. 

He has the same thing going on as mentioned in the daily life post for Xiao where he just kinda... creepily watches you go about your morning. Except not from the other side of the room, no, he just follows you around. The days actually have an awkward start because you don't want to be the first one to speak and risk making him grumpy, so you just kinda wait for him to talk. It's never a "good morning," he just jumps straight into telling you what the day is going to look like plan-wise, or complaining about this or that. But he will stand kinda right beside you the entire time, if you're making food he just stands there and leans against the counter and talks to you. If you're getting ready and have to go get this or that he'll follow you into each room and keep talking. Boy is clingy.

You could look at it as a blessing or a curse that the man takes you everywhere he goes. You don't get locked up and chained to a bed with nothing to do, but you also... have to deal with him pretty much every waking moment. If you've proven yourself annoying when not given things to do, you get things to do, simple measures to keep your attention consumed and not bothering him. Books and pencils and paper and whatever. But if he has a task to be done, it's your job, will call out the occasional go put this over there or go get that and bring it here. Why should he stand up and do it himself when you can? And it's in your best interest to do it immediately and quickly. 

If it's a mission sort of day, going from place to place, he just drags you along wherever he goes. Expects you to just stand there quietly and not interrupt while he's talking to important people. If there's like, actual physical combat... well, if combat is expected, it's one of a few times you'll get left under the care of someone else (value and cherish these precious moments), and if it's unexpected hostility from someone, well, you know the drill -- go run away a hundred yards or so and stay behind something until it's over. And don't you dare think of using the opportunity to do something stupid or run. You tried a few times in the past... it didn't go over well.

The two things you get a lot of throughout the day is complaining and fucking. The first is usually after interactions -- some subordinate that has to come up to him to talk to him, some connection he's forced to converse with for the sake of a mission -- either way, he gets grumbly as soon as they're out of earshot. Honestly it's not hard to deal with, just kinda agree with everything he says, give a nod and smile and say he's right. You don't even really have to listen to what he's saying. As for the latter, fucking follows a predictable pattern, you can pretty much accurately estimate that you're about to get bent or pushed to your knees at specific times -- namely, whenever he's particularly stressed or nervous about something, when someone beneath him fucks something up or upsets him in any way, or when you specifically do something to upset him, be it intentional or unintentional. Lots of quick rough fucks throughout any given day, really.

Now, there are a very very very few days where you genuinely can't tag along, this is pretty much for your own safety and to prevent him from being distracted by concern for said safety. This is only when there is a planned conflict with formidable enemies. It's one of very few times you'll ever be left alone. Not under the care of any one person, but likely two or three personally appointed guards that he knows well enough to trust. During this time, they are given the instruction to keep an eye on you while you're given your normal idle task options like reading. It's not very eventful, and there's not really any opportunities for escape, it's just boring.

Unlike a lot of the other yans, you don't get a "honey I'm home now listen to me rant about my day" sort of deal, because you've been with him all day and heard him complain throughout. That doesn't mean the complaints don't continue, but he gets quieter once settled in for the evening. It's also the softest time you'll get -- at that point he's tired from whatever events occur throughout the day and has less energy to be irritated.

He never really verbally insisted on it, but the habit of bathing together just kinda naturally formed from the first few days when he had to drag you back and forth to follow a normal living routine. It's very very quiet. You never asked him to, but he just automatically does everything for you, scrubs at your body and hair before you get the chance. It's... not very gentle, but he's not intentionally trying to be rough or anything. Nor is it intended as a gesture of kindness or anything, you're pretty sure he just kinda started doing it since you were stubborn and refused to move a muscle when you first came here, and now does so on autopilot, without really thinking about it. You've decided to not bring it up. It's nice enough.

He's actually kinda particular about his sleep. He can stay up late if needed, but prefers to go to bed more or less soon after, and no, you can't stay up on your own, if he's going to sleep so are you whether you like it or not. He doesn't fall asleep immediately, just kinda lays a while and stares off in thought. As long as he knows you're awake, he's not gonna make any movements to touch you or anything. If you pretend to be asleep though... you might get somewhat cuddled. And if you decide to move to lay on him on your own or nuzzle up to him, he's not going to fight it. Will probably be surprised and embarrassed, but will lay there and allow it, maybe gently pat your head.

[rezzyromance]

Imagine reader having a bad day. She just rants and raves and doesn’t shut the hell up.

Karl is busy trying to work and reader is starting to get on his nerves because he can’t concentrate (while finding her rants low-key cute).

In a moment of madness + frustration, he pushes back his chair, storms over to her and kisses her. He’ll say he did it to shut you up but the really he’s been wanting to do that for a long time.

Need me a guy like this.

You had been ranting for who knows how long. Today, it felt like everything that could possibly go wrong went wrong. And, sadly, the only person who was available for you to vent to was Karl. Beloved Karl. It wasn't often he let you interrupt his work so you can talk, let alone complain about things he found rather silly. He felt bad for you due to the frustrated state you were in which is why he agreed in the first place. Now, he's barely gotten any work done as you both sat in his office space.

"And then, this lady at the village looked at me weird. She just kept staring and she scrunched her nose at me as if she was looking at something revolting!", you had been pacing back in forth during the whole rant. Karl was trying to draw out some blueprints, but seeing you pace around back and forth in the corner of his eye kept interrupting. It wasn't as distracting as your words though. You were so flustered and aggravated. While he was growing aggravated as well, he began to find your anger cute.

"And guess what? When I went to the Duke today, HE DIDN'T HAVE WHAT I WAS LOOKING FOR! CAN YOU BEIEVE IT?", you threw your arms up in disbelief. "Nope.", he responds with a sigh as he made a tiny adjustment to his barely progressed work. "I was looking for some specific berries. Luckily, the book Donna gave me about the local wildlife said I could find them on bushes. I found the bushes, but there weren't any berries! They're out of season!", you continued to complain, not even checking to see if he was a actively listening. You just kept on until it was all finally of your chest.

"And after that, I tried to fix that chair with the broken leg in the bedroom, and I broke it more! How did I even do that!?', your pacing began to pick up speed. "No clue.", he says bluntly. The pencil he was holding in his hand was about to snap under the pressure he was gripping it with. His other hand was place on his head, propping it up as he rested his elbow on his desk with a growing pissed expression.

"And one of the lycans had a bad cut, so I tried to give it some bandages and the damn thing nearly bit my hand off! I thought you trained those things!", the image of you trying to help an injured lycan and failing drifted around in his head. It was almost as funny as it was distracting. He was fighting a smile that was creeping up on his face. While he found your efforts to help the creature cute, he was still frustrated that his time was seemingly being wasted.

He sat up straight and took a good hard look at the blueprint in front of him. The first picture was barely sketched out. It was covered in eraser shavings from the amount of times he messed up. And, upon further inspection, he could see where he was writing a description for something and accidentally began to write down things that you were saying as he struggled to multitask. The sight of this made his brow furrow and his jaw clench. All of his efforts for his work for the past unknown amount of time were useless.

"And Donna invited me to another tea party, but I can't deal with Angie. I mean I know Donna loves her, but that piece of plastic is fucking nuts and it makes me so uncomfortable.", you continued to rant about the doll. He didn't know if he wanted to correct you and tell you that she's porcelain and not plastic. All he knew is how much he missed the silence of his office now. Although, there was something about you running around in circles while wildly throwing your hands up in frustrated fits of rage that he found adorable.

Finally, he knew he had enough. He knew he had to do something if he wanted to finish his work. He sighed and put down the pencil he was using to draw out some blueprints. He looks over, preparing to tell you to shut up, but he couldn't help but get distracted. You were talking with your hands. And, you kept running your hands through your hair, making messier and messier as your pointless ranting went on and on.

He didn't even notice he was staring until you made eye contact with him and stopped. 'Are you listening to me?" "Yes.", he lies. And with that, your pacing continues as you spout more and more bullshit. His feelings confused him. You were keeping him from being productive and nothing you were upset about had any real long term meaning, but you just looked so cute when you're all riled up. His work laid on his desk, practically screaming to be finished.

"Oh right...", he turned back to his work in hopes to finish it. "And Alcina said I need to think more about what I wear because I care more about how comfortable my clothes are compared to how they look. Isn't that just bitchy?" "Mhm." The mentioning of her caused his eyes to roll. "Please just stop please just stop please just stop please just stop", repeated through his head as he wished for peace and quiet. He accidentally broke his pencil in his tense and clutched hands.

Finally, he had had enough. He threw the broken pencil pieces to the ground and stood up, shoving his chair to the side before marching over towards you. You didn't even notice until his fingers were tangled in your hair, turning your face towards his. He then pulls you into a kiss that lasts a couple of seconds. Enough for him to release some of his energy in a not so aggressive way while also getting you to be quiet for a bit.

You were speechless when he pulled away and he was thankful. "What was that for?', you ask as you smile and grab him by the coat sleeve, tugging on it. He pulls it out of your grasp, but not too aggressively. "Just wanted to shut you up for a goddamn second." "Oh yeah? Well what if I keep talking?" A mischievous smile spreads on your face as he looks back at you with a growing frustrated expression, but you could spot a small smile curling upwards from the corners of his mouth. "Nope.", he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you out the door. Once you're out the door, he puts you down. "Don't interrupt my works again. And, for the love of god, stop caring so much about what other people think. " You open your mouth to object to his decision on kicking you out, but he kisses you again. This time, you can feel him smile into it. He truly just wanted to kiss you again. "Now, leave me alone for a second. When I'm finished, you can tell me about all the other pointless bullshit from your day." And with that, he closes the door. While having you away is less distracting, he still can't help but think of you as he works, the taste of you still lingering on his lips. "Better get this done fast."

[softboyluvr]

just friends

cedric diggory x female!reader

warnings: angst (ish???), intentional lower caps, that’s all tbh

very few could say they knew someone for forever, someone that knew their weaknesses and helped turn them into strengths. though they, they were the lucky ones. or unlucky ones, depending on who you asked. cedric and her had been inseparable the moment their parents introduced them when they were children.

from then on she always had someone to pick her up when she fell off the swings, a shoulder to cry on and someone who listened unconditionally when it seemed like the voices drowned her. she was lucky to have him.

she brought out the best in him. everyone expected him to be everything all the time, but with her he could be vulnerable. he felt like he could breathe when she was near. he had to see her fall in love with some of the guys in the castle, and then be there for her when it all fell through. he was just never that lucky to have her. at least not completely, she had the best of his moments. when in fourth year his friends teased him for never having had his first kiss she was the one to pull him in by his jersey after winning the first game of the quidditch season, the light drizzle sticking to their hair and making the whole thing seem like a dream to him. she had his first dance at their first ever ball. and most of all she had his heart hanging off a thread on her pinky finger, yet he was never lucky enough to have her completely.

he was resigned actually, no longer eager for the next time she came running to his arms after she realized the last guy wasn’t what she wanted, much less deserved. an eagerness that he knew was wrong and completely selfish but he couldn’t seem to deny. he liked being the guy that lit her those vanilla candles she loved so much and held her through the night.

he didn’t know what deity he had to thank for putting them together in every single class for the past six years. but there he was, letting her draw some sort of happy face kaleidoscope on his hand as he just looked at her with some stupid grin he could never wipe off when they were together. looking at how the tip of her tongue stuck out in concentration and then down to the crystal hanging around her neck. remembering how one saturday she just dragged him to the lake to look for crystals. one of the last days of the summer, the morning sun keeping them warm but not sticky with sweat. the wildflowers around them made the air sweet and the soft swishing of the water in the river filled up their comfortable silence making everything perfect. if he were asked what he thought heaven was like he would think that’s the closest it could ever get. or maybe it was all perfect because he was with her.

he wasn’t surprised when she had to bring him back from his daze and put him to work on the potion slughorn had just spent the last 10 minutes explaining. he was eager to finish brewing the concoction, amortentia was one of their biggest projects of the year. but that was not what motivated him to finish it, neither was it finding out what he was going to smell. he knew exactly what his heart desired, and was not surprised when he smelled vanilla, soft rain and wildflowers. his eagerness was to discover what she was going to describe the potion to smell like. he hoped her heart’s deepest desires pointed towards him like a compass pointing north. he was about to ask when hermione granger, somehow managing to take classes above her level, turned around and asked herself.

he pretended to write some notes on his notebook when he was really waiting for anything that would hint at her fancying him the way he wished she would.

“we must’ve fucked it up because it smells like nothing” and she snorted like it was the funniest thing ever. their conversation carried but he was no longer interested on any sort of gossip the griffindoor carried. he knew the potion had worked, so either she was sick and her nose was all messed up or just didn’t fancy anyone at all. she could’ve also been lying, was it for his sake? did she just not want to share any more fragments of her love life with him and she decided to lie about this to keep some secrecy? was it someone he knew? was it one of their friends? had he introduced her to them?

class ended and the day flew by, whenever she asked about his change in demeanor he brushed her off with a smile and assured her it was all fine, “just tired ‘s all”

he wanted to go down to his room and read, alone, as soon as the school day was over. but he had promised to go with her to this tree they always hung out in when the day was nice. she was talking about things she had noticed throughout the day and when he zoned back into the conversation their tree was closer than he realized and she was talking about potions class.

“i swear i was keeping an eye out for you. i was worried you were sick because someone had slipped some amortentia on your water or something. i mean im surprised no one did” and she sat down leaning on the trunk of the tree. “anyways you never did tell me what it was your heart’s deepest desires were. or who is it that that is for that matter” she was taking some colored pencils out and it seemed like the whole thing was humorous to her. but the question had struck him, she was lying back in class.

she had taken his silence as a cue to keep her chatter going. not paying any mind to how he still hadn’t sat down. “i heard someone say how when slughorn showed the class below us the potion just as a heads up for next year cho chang said she swore she smelled you. i didnt know you guys were that close” and she wiggled her eyebrows at him while taking out some sketch book from her bag. she was really trying to joke with him right now. “she’s really pretty-“

but he cut her off. “why would you lie?”

“i swear! hermione told me all about it after i ran onto her in the bathroom before potions class started. i mean you have been tutoring her for a while now so i don’t know how you didn’t see it coming”

he was silent for a second and she grew uncomfortable of his gaze just lingering. standing up as he started again.

“we didn’t fuck up the bloody potion. but you told granger we did, why did you lie?”

she looked at him for a couple seconds and then laughed. “come on ced, slughorn said the thing was perfect. don’t worry about the grade”

“this is not about a mark and you know it” his tone was so serious it was bordering into stern. it was like his patience was growing thin but she didn’t know what to say, so she just shrugged and looked away.

“didn’t feel like talking about it then”

“we can talk about it now”

“it looks like there’s rain clouds coming”

“what are you trying to avoid?”

she just went to pick up her book, stuffing her things back into her bag. she started the walk back to the castle making him scoff and follow her lead.

“why don’t you want to talk to me?” to her he still sounded defensive. but he was trying his best to mask his vulnerability.

“i do want to talk to you ced. just not about it right now”

“was it someone i know? was it fred? i heard he’s with angelina so that’s a dead end you know”

“cedric just drop it”

“so it was him then”

she groaned and turned to look at him, breaking her stride. her face was burning with what he saw as anger.

“why does it matter so badly to you cedric?”

the thunder quickly ate up the good weather they still had and the air turned chilly. how fitting.

“it just does and i want to know”

“it really doesn’t matter to me and it shouldn’t to you either” she was upset about it, maybe her feelings for fred were far deeper than he could guess. he was aware of their friendship, but he never knew how close they had grown to be. maybe him being a tutor pushed her to finding someone new, some new more interesting friend. “i really don’t get why you’re blowing this to be such a big deal when cho-“

“it is a big deal to me” he chuckled and he saw the drizzle before he could feel it. “it’s a big deal to me when all i could smell on the thing was wildflowers and fresh rain” he let a breath out, his voice lowering back to its usual tone. no longer exasperated but tired. “fresh rain and vanilla”

she just stood there. quiet. looking at him. a couple steps and he had broken the distance between them. placing his hands on her shoulders and running them down to her hands.

“so please, just please tell me what it was for you”

“lilacs” she looked up at him and met his gaze. the flowers his mother had planted around the swing sets were lilacs, the flowers she tucked on his suit pocket on their first dance were lilacs. but he still couldn’t let his heart jump to conclusions. she took in the silence and looked forward, staring at his chest rather than looking at him in the eyes. the blow was coming. “warm sheets and fresh rain”

she smiled at the irony of the drizzle that covered her hair at the moment and dared to peek at him from under her lashes. he was puzzled by the last one. she kept looking down at his hands holding hers.

“that was my first kiss too you know, you never really asked and i guess i never told you. but i knew you were tired of everyone teasing you for it so i guessed you wouldn’t mind as long as you got it over with” she was rambling and he smiled. the rain coating her lashes reminded him of the first time, he let go of her hand and took her chin between his pointer and thumb. tilting her head up to look at him, moving his hand to run through her hair and finally cupping her face. running his thumb over her cheek. it was like he was getting a do over, and he wanted to take his time this time around. she looked into his eyes and then glanced down to his lips. he didn’t waste more time before his other hand flew to the free side of her face and his lips were on hers. her hands on his shoulders pulling him impossibly closer to her.

he cursed his lungs for preventing him from staying there, causing him to pull away slightly. she opened her eyes to see him looking at her already. he took in how the water droplets stuck to her hair and the smile that danced on her face.

her eyebrows shot up a little “took you long enough” her teasing smile made him let out a loud laugh.

he hummed and nodded. feigning seriousness “maybe” he looked at her with a teasing smile of his own. “but not nearly as long as it took you, now did it”

her eyebrows shot up and she let out a surprised laugh. he admired her for a second more before he leaned down to kiss her again. missing how she quickly ducked and escaped his grasp. starting to sprint through the grass towards the castle. he chased behind her as they both laughed at the water splashing around their feet and starting to soak them up slowly. she looked back at him and playfully screamed, booking it through the courtyard and slipping past the few people that were still out enjoying the soft rain.

their friends quickly spotted the pair, not surprised by their behavior but intrigued as to what had caused the giant to chase after her through the rain. watching as he was catching up to her when she had almost reached the group, which was seated waiting for them next to one of the arches surrounding the courtyard. staying safe from the rain under the roof. they all playfully looked at her catching her breath, not amused at all by their games when he reached her. hair sticking to his forehead and robes drenched just like hers. she yelped as he picked her up and spun her around, their friends getting ready to listen to whatever story was behind their chase.

the story telling itself when he set her down softly and pulled her in for a quick kiss. their bubble of happiness not popping but encasing all of their friends as well. no questions were needed, the happiness just flowed and bubbled.

he swung his arm over her shoulders. pulling her into his chest as she started the conversation back up. everything had fallen into place for him, and now he could light up candles and tuck her into bed not because she had another unlucky shot at love. but because he was finally lucky enough.

[mxtcha-tea]

and that's how i met you mother

✎desc; love at first sight with shiratorizawa (honestly, not all of them are love at first sight but ignore that)

✎pairing[s]; shiratorizawa 3rd years x f!reader (separate)

✎genre; fluff, crack

✎language[s]; english

✎chef note; just an excuse for me to write lovesick boys💗 (I can’t do Shirabu, Kawanishi and Goshiki’s part cause I ran out of ideas🤸‍♀️🚆)

Ushijima

It would just be a normal day in his class, learning and stuff like usual

Then after the teacher finished explaining and hand out the tasks, he'll went through his pencil case and couldn't seem to find any pen

Ushijima frowned at that and looked throughly in his pencil case but with no luck, there's none

He swore that he had put some inside, maybe his mind slipped a little?

A tap on his shoulder caught his attention as he turned his head around to make eye contact with you

You're holding out one of your pen to him with a neutral look,

"You can have it," Ushijima look at you surprised, does that mean he can just take it from you? That's a little absurd

But he didn't question it and nodded, slowly taking the pen from your hand and continue studying

The pen doesn't really sit right in his hand, it's not being his and literally someone else that he doesn't have the chance to talk to

He'll spare a glance at you every minute (ngl, he's complimenting your side view internally)

And when you caught him looking at him, he'll just blink and slowly look back at his work with a light blush on his cheeks

(Istg it's so cute)

After the class ends and before you can leave for lunch, Ushijima caught your attention first,

"Here, thank you for lending me this. And unfortunately, i can't take it from you"

You're just looking at him with a dumbfounded look before taking the pen from him,

"Ah, no problem, um..." "Ushijima Wakatoshi"

You nodded at that, scratching the back of your head "...Ushijima. And it's [y/n]"

Both of you are just standing there in front of each other but it's not awkward, surprisingly

It's as if you two are waiting for one of you to speak and end the convo

(Spoiler alert; none of you wanted to end the convo since both of you find each other interesting)

You cleared your throat, fiddling with your pen a little, "Okay, see you after this, Ushijima"

He nodded at that and with that, both of you went to your separate ways

'[Y/N], YOU AWKWARD BASTARD! THAT WAS SO EMBARRASSING, I BET HE THOUGHT THAT YOU'RE WEIRD NOW!'

Ushijima's just walking towards the gym with a fairly visible blush across his cheeks as he look down

"Ushijima..."

"[y/n]..."

"I guess he's fine..."

"I guess she's fine..."

Ushijima Current Mission!

Trying to figure what other scenarios he can drag you in to have a convo with you again

Good luck Wakatoshi~!

Tendou

You and Tendou have talked with eachother a couple of times but it's nothing more than that

And Tendou actually want to talk more with you (at first for friendship points but y'know...)

Today, you look more beautiful than ever to him today

It's not like you're not beautiful every other day (he thinks you're pretty so that's why he kept on having a convo with you)

And he caught into that

Somehow, he can't help bet stare at you in a distance and he tried his best to avoid getting caught

(Tendou's scared that you find him creepy for looking at you all the time and he don't want that thought to flood you mind)

Then, you came to him to explain about the work your science teacher gave since she's absent for the time being

And you can bet that he doesn't hear a single thing you said because he's too focused on yourself

It's kinda like in those scenes in manga where the main character stare into the main interest

The main interest looking as beautiful as ever with flowers around them

Pretty eyes, angelic face, kissable lips

For him, you're perfect and he even thought that you might be an angel in disguise

No matter how you even see yourself, he would always think that you're fascinating, adorable, enticing—

"Tendou, are you okay?"

The redhead snapped out from his thought and got caught by you

By now, his face is literally mocking his hair color as he chuckled nervously,

"Ah, I'm fine! It's just that..."

He was about to stop mid sentences but thankfully he still got that crumbs of courage and just goes with it,

"...you look pretty today,"

Tendou said with a closed eyes smile, peeking an eye open and trying to see your reaction (ngl he's nervous)

You blinked

Before you literally exploded at that which is what make him surprised in his seat

You fake coughed, looking away and avoiding eye contact,

"Thanks...."

[love meter +10!]

If this is an actual manga or anime, there could've been hearts dancing around him

Timeskip to Tendou at his home and squealing quietly to himself (he can't let his family hear him fanboying for someone in his school lmao)

"We're totally going to marry 3 years from now on~" he says to himself in the mirror with so many confidence

(I just love it when Tendou act like that, let him have his moment)

"Haha, thank you gods for creating me and [y/n] in the same world,"

Tendou's Current Mission!

Getting to know you better and give tons and tons of compliments, just like in the simulations! Specifically otomes and dating games

Try your best Satori~!

Semi

It was another day, another practice session

Except that it went longer than Semi expected, he managed to run from the gym to the main entrance

But before he can even put on his shoes, heavy rain started pouring down

He look at the dark grey sky, resting his forehead onto the shoe locker with one shoe already in his foot while the other in his hand

Sighing, Semi thought about asking to come with Tendou and Yamagata since he didn't bring his umbrella

But on second thought, he realized that they prolly forgot theirs too

And all 3 of them have to run under the rain again like last time

Yamagata and Tendou: "We can avoid the rain if we're fast enough!"

He shivered at that their words and the thought of getting terribly sick again

And before Semi's brain can process a strategy for himself, he was caught off guard when an umbrella was opened next to him,

"Ah sorry,"

In those few seconds, everything went slow motion when your eyes catches his

(He swore it felt like in the anime)

He can feel his cheeks flushing a little but thanks to the wheater, it's not obvious

"Hello?" Semi snapped from his thoughts, shaking his head before focusing on you again,

"Sorry, sorry, um—" "You don't have an umbrella?"

He blinked, shaking his head slightly

It's a pretty peaceful staring between you two with the rain hitting the ground as background sounds

Until you lift your umbrella up, and pointed at the small spot next to you with your thumb,

"Here, I'll help you,"

"Eh?"

Semi was flabbergasted a little at your statement but would he decline it?

Of course not,

"Just tell me where your house is then I help you go there,"

And that's how he find himself back at his house's entrance with you in front of him,

"And that's why I just let you walk with me for the afternoon,"

"Is that so, oh wait! I haven't known your name, and you prolly haven't known my name either..."

He scratched the back of his neck before looking at you with a smile,

"The name's Semi Eita, thanks for the walk back home,"

Your lips parted a little before in turns into a tooth rotting smile,

"[y/n], no problem and thanks for the company, Eita,"

An arrow pierced through his heart as his face is literally the color of Tendou's hair

And just like that, you left him on the entrance with a funny expression upon his face

Cutting the scene to Semi punching his pillow (rip pillow)

"You already caught me off guard already but you really had to look at me like that...."

Semi's Current Mission!

Try to find you the next day after first period and try not to be awkward with you and his convo after the eventful day

You can do it Eita~!

Yamagata

Let's just say that,

Yamagata went through the late anime girl scenario

But with his toast falling down from his mouth while running towards his school

And his stamina almost running low despite being a volleyball player and a libero

(His house's prolly far from his school, cut him some slacks sheesh)

He's pretty much stumbling a lot when he enters the school and speed walking up the stairs

Some of the students look at him weirdly but that doesn't become his main concern because a strict teacher is going first

Yamagata's almost there, almost reaching his classroom's door

But god had other plans and place an invisible rock in front of him

And as you can tell, he slipped on it and now facepalming the floor

(The sound is so loud my lord)

He groaned, shaking a little while trying to sit up from his position

The male look up and is now face to face with you, who's looking down at him

Okay he might be delusional from the impact but is he actually looking at an angel right now?

"Dude, you okay? That's gotta hurt from the sound that it made—"

Your words drowned inside his mind as he widened his eyes with pink tints decorating his cheeks

'This...THIS IS IT!'

"—also I think your nose is bleed—"

"PLEASE MARRY ME!!"

You flinched at that but keep a calm face, a little bit concerned that he may hit his head too hard

While Yamagata is just having heart eyes for you, sparkles around him after saying those words almost too confidently

He doesn't know what's in him that make him think that you're the one,

But he definitely can feel it

You sighed, crouching down while searching through your pocket and pulling out a small pack of tissues,

"I think we're going so fast right now but no, maybe 5 years later or never,"

"Does that mean you agree??"

"I don't know, you're handsome but also stupid, a himbo I think,"

You wipe away the blood dripping down his nose, taking his arm, opening it and put the bloodied tissue on it before closing it, giving a light tap,

"Now go to the nurse office,"

"Will you be there for me?"

"No,"

You help him stand up, dusting his shoulder and walk away as if nothing happened

Yamagata watches you from the distance with a lovesick smile

Tendou laughed behind him with Ushijima and Reon next to him and Semi looking at Yamagata, confused,

"Hayato, I have no idea if you had your alarm on but you just came to school during recess,"

"She's perfect...also, I think I need to go to the nurse right now cause my head hurts,"

Yamagata's Current Mission!

Marry [y/n]

Have fun, Hayato~!

Reon

(He will have the best love at first sight cause I say so)

It was the school festival and it's lively in every corner of the school, the outside, inside the classrooms, even the hallways

Reon had just finished his part of his classroom and now can walk around to enjoy the festival

Honestly, it's a pretty normal day to him despite being the school's festival

The students of Shiratorizawa has always been this lively so it's good that they can be keep the atmosphere as how it is like any other days

Since the others are still working on their parts, Reon was all by himself

Sure, the quiet sounds without Tendou, Semi and Yamagata is fine but he prefer it being loud anyway

A short of way to fill in the boring silence

But what's the bad thing to enjoy the peace once in a while?

So he take a small walk outside the Shiratorizawa building

Stalls decorated the outside with students busy serving the customers

He was greeted by some of them as he greeted them back with a warm smile

Hands inside his pocket while looking at the sky every few seconds

Baby blue sky with fluffy white clouds, it is the spring afterall

It was at that moment where he turn his head around and caught your eyes

It was something between those few seconds that a lighting strike between the string connecting you two for a second

Reon knew he did from the moment you two clashed with each other so suddenly

It was...not love at first sight exactly,

But rather, familiarity, like,

'Oh, hello, it's you. It's going to be you,'

The staring prolly lasted more than he expected before you snapped out from your thought, shaking your head,

"Sorry! Didn't mean to..." "But you didn't do anything?" He rose an eyebrow, smiling sheepishly and watch your panic slowly dissolves

"Well, technically yeah but It was bad of me to stare off at you like that,"

He chuckled, your heart clenching at that,

"Don't worry, I think I did it too...maybe both of us did,"

"Ah, yeah! Probably..." you fiddled with your fingers, visibly nervous facing him since he's basically a stranger even tho being in the same school,

"Reon Oohira," "Eh?" You look at him with confusion at first, while he just offers you a smile,

"My name, since we have...how to say it, meet each other? And I don't want to make you uncomfortable after all that so I think it's best if we introduce ourselves,"

Your heart's basically beating out loudly that you'll afraid that he'll hear it

But, that doesn't seem so bad, does it?

You mirrored his smile, this time more confidently than before,

"[y/n] [l/n], nice to meet you Reon!"

"Please,"

Reon put his hand onto your head, "Just call me Hira,"

You fainted

"She's interesting, I love her,"

Reon's Current Mission!

Get to know you better and honestly, there's nothing else to do after that other than asking you out

You'll do great, Oohira~!