#he gets defensive and angry whenever they try to press him on it

[randomly--accessed--memories]

In the Other Ending, Vox feels like he needs to kill everyone at the hotel… except for Niffty. He really doesn’t want to be feeling empathy right now (that’s half the point of this whole murder-suicide quest after all) but… she didn’t do anything wrong! She’s sick! She’s trapped, just like he was! She needs to be healed.

The fact that “putting her out of her misery” doesn’t feel like an option to him is freaking him out even more.

[saosinn]

cam knows how to lay pipe.

nsfw under the cut, afab/fem reader!

everyone knows cam has a big dick, but what use is a big dick if you're stroke game is shit? he seems like one of those guys that are overly confident in their size, but cam doesn't have anything to compensate for, and all that talk isn't just talk.

still though, you tested him. you made jokes about his size, teased him relentlessly, and instead of getting angry and defensive, he'd just let you continue. his silence only made you want to try harder, because honestly, it was hot seeing cam get angry. not the type of angry where he gets sad, of course, but the type where he closes the distance to intimidate you, the type where his voice goes from laid back to stern.

cam knew exactly what you were trying to do, contrary to popular belief, he's not stupid. he chose to let you do this, to see how long you'd try and how persistent you'd be. since you two became 'official', he did his best to control his temper, to be more mindful of how he speaks, but today he's decided he'll give you exactly what you want.

leaning against the liquor cabinet, he had his arms crossed over his chest, looking down at you with a slight smirk. you were mirroring his stance, arms crossed underneath your chest and your hip popped, to mock him, of course. unbeknownst to you, the entire time you were taunting him, you were giving him a perfect view of your chest, and that 'pecker' you were mocking was forming a chest at the sight.

he bit the inside of his cheek, weight shifting awkwardly to avoid any unnecessary strain on his already rock hard and sensitive cock. you rolled your eyes, having gotten bored of his lack of reaction, and you were about to walk away until you saw it. he knew immediately, having to stifle a laugh at the way your eyes widened. "oh, i'm sorry, what was that? i thought my dick was so small not even maggie could find it." a faint 'don't drag me into this!' was heard before he continued, leaning down to your level, face inches away from yours. "wanna take that back, princess?"

you scoffed, poorly hiding the heat that was rising up from your neck to your face. every attempt to swallow your stutters was met with a dry throat, tongue suddenly feeling heavy in your mouth. "n-no, no. my other points still stand." your other points of course being that he can't fuck, that he didn't know where the clit was, and things of that nature. cocking his head to the side, he smiled, teeth surprisingly white for someone who lived in, and ate, garbage. "then let me prove those points wrong."

...

and that's how you ended up here, on the kitchen floor, laid sideways with your right leg propped up on cam's shoulder. your elbows were digging into the tile floor, breath being knocked from your chest with every hard thrust cam delivered to your aching cunt. he held your ankle, pushing down firmly whenever you tried to pull back, to give your aching muscles a bit of reprieve. fuck, he reached so deep in this position, hitting places you didn't even know someone could reach.

his free hand busied itself with other places on your body, pushing down on your stomach, twisting your nipples, and his favorite: toying with your clit. his thumb set a steady, circular pace around your throbbing bud, his other fingers resting casually resting atop your cunt. god, he's just so mean! but then again, this is exactly what you wanted, so was there really any room for you to complain?

even if you wanted to complain, you couldn't, you were too busy shamelessly moaning and putting on a show for the entire kitchen. at this angle, he could really fit all the way to the brim, filling every ounce of space your cunf had to give. you had drool running down your cheek, your eyes rolling back as your nails clawed helplessly at the cold floor.

adjusting his grip on your ankle, cam held it's up right position and leaned down, chest pressing against yours. he kissed a wet trail from your shoulder to your jaw, his pace unrelenting as strings of spit stretch across your skin. his breath was hot against your neck, stubble gently pricking your already sensitive skin. his smirk was evident in his voice, each word dripping in condescension. "'m not sure where the clit is, princess, is this it?" he asks, pressing his thumb down hard onto the exact spot.

you let out a choked shriek, clamping hard around his cock. cam took in a sharp hiss through his teeth, letting the breath out with a chuckling sigh. he started circling it again, pressing your leg farther down, his moans disgustingly pornographic. stifling himself in your chest, he began to suck a deep hickey into your skin, one that everyone would see. his saliva painted you like a blank canvas, the hickey being his signature.

taking your clit between his fingers, he softly pinched, pulsing the motion as you writhed under him. with a groan of pleasure, cam smiled at the view of you writhing underneath him, a drooling, moaning mess. "we— shit.. well, am i a good enough fuck?" you nodded, nonsensically babbling various agreements in response. a proud smirk painted cam's face, soon washing over with pleasure as he felt his lower abdomen twitch, looks like you both got what you wanted.

[doumidas-whumps]

shanghai rummy (part 2)

masterlist / part 1

Sonny takes a spill.

cw: pet whump, alcohol, uhh.. floor licking? :)

Sonny was made to stand in the corner in case anybody needed him, which mostly just meant he was occasionally refilling drinks and setting out snacks— including the charcuterie board, which Ms. Han would surely be pleased to know disappeared quickly. 

He kept catching Manuel’s quick glances, and Parsa openly stared at him half the time, but he politely pretended not to notice. 

It was mostly boring, and his feet started to ache within an hour. He kept himself entertained by listening to their conversation and observing their card game. From his angle he could only see Klaus and Manuel’s hands, but whenever he rounded the table to attend to Parsa and Mr. Han he took a peek at their cards as well.

At one point Manuel motioned for him. Sonny came to his side, expecting to be asked for something, but instead he tilted his cards so Sonny could see them better.

“¿Qué me sugieres?” he asked. “Estoy en un pedo.”

He was asking for advice. Unlike the others, he hadn’t put any cards down yet, which meant he was in trouble. Sonny glanced around the table. Mr. Han was watching the exchange curiously. He chewed on the inside of his cheek. Would they get angry at him if he gave suggestions? 

“¿No quieres ayudarme?” Manuel put on a hurt expression. You don’t want to help me?

Sonny leaned closer to him, whispering Spanish in his ear. He pointed at the seven of hearts in his hand. “Use this in your run and go for a different set. You could try threes.” He pointed to a different card held under Manuel’s left thumb. “Use that.”

Sonny startled as Klaus slammed his open hand on the table, making his glass jump and his cards shift. “Hey, hey! Quit cheating! I know that little asshole has been looking at my hand.”

“He’s not talking about you.”

“It’s still cheating." 

“I don’t think Manuel could get anywhere close to winning even if he had cards hidden up his sleeve,” Parsa said. “Really, it’s just evening the playing field.”

“You wouldn’t being saying that if there was money on the line,” Klaus said to Parsa. 

“Sure. But there’s no money on the line.”

“Dave!” Klaus turned to Mr. Han, now. “Tell your pet he can’t help Manny.”

Manuel and Sonny looked to Mr. Han, who looked to Parsa, who shrugged. “Not my pet,” he said. 

“Fine,” said Mr. Han. “Don’t help him.”

Sonny retreated to his corner, embarrassed to have been in the middle of that situation. Manuel shot him an apologetic look. Sonny pressed his lips together in an imitation of a smile. 

Manuel didn’t win the round (Parsa did) but with Sonny’s advice, he was at least able to get some cards on the table. Another hour later, with one round left to go, Klaus was in last place and acting irritable. Manuel was in third, but he just seemed happy not to be losing the hardest. He called on Sonny for another drink, his third of the night. “I need to celebrate this,” he said.

“Don’t celebrate too hard,” Parsa warned. “Klaus might jump on you.” 

Sonny left to mix a rum and coke, and when he reentered the dining room Klaus eyed the drink in his hand. “Are you even old enough to be handling alcohol?” he asked. Sonny had been handling it all night, but apparently he thought now was a good time to bring it up. 

“He’s not allowed to drink it,” Mr. Han said.

“Like he doesn’t sneak into the liquor cabinet at night.” Klaus squinted at him. “I bet he had a swig of rum just now.” 

Sonny prickled at the accusation, feeling the blood rise to his face. “I didn’t. I don’t.”

“Ooh!” Klaus held up his free hand in mock surrender. “Don’t get too defensive, now.”

“Stop it, Klaus,” Mr. Han said sharply.  

Manuel jumped in. “Yeah, do you really want a repeat of what happened with Parsa’s pet?”

Klaus barked a laugh, but something in his expression shifted and he quickly sobered. “God, no.” He turned to Parsa, who seemed annoyed at the shift in topic. “No offense, but I really hate your pet.” 

“Do we really need to bring this up again?”

“He’s fucking scary, man.” 

“I dealt with him already, so you can drop it. It’s over with.”

“Unless by ‘dealt with’ you mean you took him out back and shot him, I don’t think it’s over with.”

“Would you pay me to replace him?” Parsa asked.

“Uh. Hell no.”

Sonny shifted nervously on his feet. He had no idea what they were talking about but just the idea of getting ‘taken out back and shot’ made his stomach turn.

“You antagonize too much,” Manuel said. 

Klaus threw his hands up in the air, nearly losing grip of his cards. Sonny noticed Parsa’s eyes dart to them as Klaus practically flashed his hand to everybody at the table. “It was a joke, man, a joke! Can nobody take a joke anymore?”

“All your jokes are sick and twisted,” said Manuel. He gestured for Sonny. “Get that over here.” 

Sonny tried to skirt around Klaus’ chair, not wanting to get too close. 

A leg stuck out into his path.

He couldn’t react until it was too late. Sonny’s made contact with Klaus’ leg, tripping, and like seeing it all in slow motion he watched the drink in his hand splatter all over the front of Manuel’s creme button-up shirt. The glass hit the floor with a sharp crack and rolled under the table. The slice of lime slid under the chair. Sonny landed hard on his hands and knees.

Silence. A pit in his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut tight. He couldn’t even look up to see the damage he’d done; he just wanted to sink into the floor and die. He was all too aware of his position by both Klaus and Manuel’s feet— even without shoes, a kick would hurt. 

He shifted back on his knees and pressed his forehead to the hardwood, the deepest kneel he could manage. He pressed his palms flat on the ground, vulnerable. He felt himself start to shake.

“I’m sorry,” he managed, breathing hard against the wood. “I-I’m so sorry. Sir.” 

“Lick it up,” someone said.

Without thinking, head clouded with panic, he lifted enough to see the puddle. He tilted forward, dipped his head to press his tongue to it.

“For Christ’s sake! Don’t do that, Sonny. God. That’s disgusting.” Then, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Sonny froze in place as the order shot through him. His face burned, the taste bitter in his mouth. His heart pounded so loud he worried everybody in the room might be able to hear it.

“I’m really sorry about this, Manuel.”

More voices. Sonny’s mind was still in a blur. He stayed on the floor, feeling like he was stuck to it. He heard the scrape of a chair— Manuel sliding back, his feet moving. Sonny braced himself.

“Hey,” Manuel’s voice. “Levántate. Come help me.” 

Sonny craned his neck. He didn’t look as far as Manuel’s face, only far enough to see the evidence of his mistake on his wet shirt.

“—stain remover under the sink,” Mr. Han was saying. “You can borrow one of my old shirts.”

“Thanks, Dave. Get up, Sonny.” 

He just barely processed the command and scrambled to his feet. He shouldn’t have had to make Manuel ask twice. Fuck-ups upon fuck-ups.

Manuel went to exit the room and Sonny automatically fell in step behind him, casting a glance at his master. Mr. Han’s lips were pressed tight and he was pinching the bridge of his nose. Sonny nearly dropped to his knees again right then and there at his master’s disappointment, but stopped himself. He doubted it would be appreciated.

He followed Manuel up the stairs on shaky legs. At the same time he reached the top step, Ms. Han emerged from the master bedroom and she jerked in surprise to see them both. She recovered quickly, her eyes immediately going to the stain on Manuel’s shirt. “What happened?”

“I spilled on myself,” Manuel said. “David said I could use the bathroom up here.” Sonny’s head spun.

Her eyes narrowed. “I see.” She pushed past Sonny and went downstairs. 

He tried to follow Manuel into the bathroom, but Manuel stopped short in the doorway. “Would you go get me a shirt?”

Sonny blinked. “Yes. Yes, sir. I’ll be right back.” He turned and entered the master bedroom where Mr. Han kept his clothes. As soon as he crossed through the doorway he lowered to the floor, like his body finally felt it was safe enough to collapse. He took a few seconds to try and catch his breath, staring at the fibers of the carpet between his fingers. 

He crawled around the foot of the bed, where Mr. Han once joked he should sleep. He pulled out the bottom drawer of his master’s dresser. He wasn’t sure what to pick. Most of the T-shirts would definitely be too small, so he carded through them like folders in a filing cabinet, checking the tags for a bigger size. He eventually landed on one that was bigger than the others.

Taking a few more deep breaths for good measure, Sonny felt like he had collected himself enough to return to Manuel— or at least enough that he wouldn’t pass out.

He could hear the faucet running before he even went in. Manuel’s bare back was facing him as he held his shirt under the stream of water. He noticed Sonny’s entrance and turned to him. Sonny politely averted his eyes, feeling like he shouldn’t be looking. He presented the T-shirt, not trusting himself to speak. The enclosed space of the bathroom made it hard to breathe. The white noise of the faucet gave it all a foggy quality. 

Tonight wasn’t his first time meeting Manuel, but he didn’t know him all that well. Sonny thought he had a mild demeanor, but up until now he had never really seen him angry. Sonny wished his master hadn’t sent him up here alone. He took consolation in the fact that the door was wide open behind him. 

“Thanks,” Manuel said. He didn’t sound angry. In fact, he seemed calm. He took the shirt from Sonny’s hands, not even brushing his fingertips. He held it up and it unfurled like a scroll. His lip quirked. “Did you choose this shirt on purpose?”

“I… chose it for its size, sir.”

“I think it fits.”

———

Sonny and Manuel returned downstairs 5 minutes later, Manuel sporting a slightly-too-tight T-shirt with BOWLING DAD stamped on it in large letters. Sonny saw Mr. Han’s eye catch on the design, but he didn’t comment.

Sonny had heard them talking before, but they’d quieted as soon as he showed up. He had caught the last bit from Parsa’s mouth. “You’re too soft on him,”

The puddle of rum and coke and half-melted ice was still on the floor. A small trail of liquid had crept near the glass still lying under the table. Sonny didn’t need to be told to clean it up. He crouched to grab the glass and the dropped slice of lime, feeling the eyes on his back, and carried them out.

“You think so?” He heard his master’s voice as he left the room, continuing the conversation. “What do you suggest?” 

The voices were harder to hear from the kitchen, but audible if he strained his ears. Sonny turned the glass over in his hand, its facets catching the soft light. The rim was chipped, sprouting a thin curving crack. He would have to find the shard on the floor, make sure nobody stepped on it.

“Are you even gonna discipline him?”

“How would you discipline yours?”

A beat of silence. “I don’t know. I would make sure it wouldn’t happen again.”

“It wasn’t even his fault.”

“He should know to be more careful.” 

Sonny threw the lime in the trash, then gently placed the glass inside the bin so it wouldn’t shatter.

“I would make him clean it with his mouth,” Klaus said unprompted.

“Uh, yeah, we know that, you sick fuck. Did he actually lick the floor? I didn’t see,” said Manuel.

“Speaking of, I really don’t appreciate you telling him to do that,” Mr. Han said.

“I didn’t think he was actually gonna do it,” said Klaus.

Sonny’s tongue was sour. He left the kitchen.

“Poor kid.”

“Poor kid? He’s—“ 

As Sonny passed through the living room he suddenly noticed Ms. Han sitting quietly in one of the plush armchairs. He stopped short under her judgmental gaze. She raised a sculpted brow, said, “He ‘spilled on himself?’”

Sonny looked at his feet. “I don’t know why he said that,” he whispered.

Ms. Han sighed. “Go on. Clean the rest of it up.” 

———

taglist: @pumpkin-spice-whump @ziptiesnfries

[phykios]

Kiss Me Where You Bruise Me Percy Jackson is fated to die on his twenty-first birthday, after a lifetime of battling monsters. Annabeth Chase is doing her hardest not to get attached, but towards the end of the war, emotions are running high, and she can only resist her feelings--and his kiss--for so long. (Aged up/stretchy canon au of PJO, rated E for smut) read on ao3

Annabeth could sense the dark mood which smothered the camp even from all the way inside the attic of the Big House. With an angry huff, she slammed her heavy book shut, a cloud of dust bursting from the pages, before sliding it back on the shelf. Wasn’t like she was going to get any work done now, anyway. 

Sure enough, her suspicions were confirmed as soon as she came down the ladder, and was nearly bowled over by Will Solace as he half-dragged, half-carried Charlie Beckendorf to the infirmary. “Sorry,” she said, scooching back against the wall. “Rough quest?” 

Beckendorf, to his credit, flashed a smile at her. “Nah,” he croaked, “walk in the park.” 

Beneath his hand, which was pressed to his side, a red stain slowly grew on the orange fabric. She raised an eyebrow.

“It’s better than it looks,” Beckendorf protested as Will forced him down onto an infirmary bed. “Honest!” 

Will snorted. “I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.” 

“You just did.” 

“Tell me what happened,” Annabeth said, pointedly. She did not have time for banter.

Beckendorf hissed as Will pulled his shirt back, revealing three long, thin, wet stripes. “Remember how we said it was supposed to be a recon mission?” 

Oh for gods’ sake–“What did he do this time?” 

“In his defense, this time it was my fault.” 

She stared at him.

“Honest!” 

“I’m sure.” 

“It actually was my fault this time–I accidentally tripped a wire, and then our recon turned into a–”

“A shit-show?” 

He swallowed his gasp as Will pressed on the claw marks on his body. “Something like that.” 

Annabeth pinched the bridge of her nose. “And let me guess. Instead of retreating, and salvaging the recon as much as he could, Percy decided that the best course of action would be to try and wipe the camp out, so the enemy wouldn’t know their location had been compromised.” 

“...Well, yeah.” 

“And did he?” 

“Of course.” 

“All of them this time?” 

His silence spoke volumes. 

She sighed again, headache already beginning to manifest. “And where is he now?” 

“Where do you think?” 

“You,” said Will, gently shoving Annabeth towards the door, “out. This could get messy.” 

Annabeth had a strong stomach, but Beckendorf was turning green, and since Will hadn’t asked for support, it was probably something he could handle on his own. In any case, she did not want to be in the line of fire if something went sideways. 

Besides, she had a son of Poseidon to find. 

Not that he was hard to find. He was exactly where he always was. 

The arena was empty, save him. That was not in and of itself surprising. General swordsmanship class had been indefinitely suspended as of last summer, so the kids had to get in their practice whenever they could, with whomever was around. And most of the camp was too smart to go toe-to-toe with their best fighter whenever he got into one of his moods. Even his flock of obsessive, simpering groupies were missing, instead of peeking around the corner to watch him as he worked, giggling between their fingers, putting the collective gossip machine of Ten to shame.

She heard him before she saw him, the smack of metal on straw punctuated with a grunt, or a growl. He looked as if he hadn’t even showered or changed after returning to camp, just dumped Beck at the infirmary and made a beeline for the arena, armor and all. Typical. Gone was the sweet, if sarcastic boy who had welcomed her to camp, and in his place was a scowling, broody, capital-W-warrior. 

Recently, he had really begun to lean into something of a role here at camp–the prophecy child, the son of Poseidon. He walked around with an albatross so heavy around his neck, you could almost see the slump in his shoulders. He sat with his back turned to the rest of the camp at mealtimes, picking at his food, often leaving with a huff halfway through. She couldn’t remember the last time she had seen him at a sing-along, or a capture-the-flag game, or even just hanging around the camp, playing basketball and shooting the shit. 

No, he had chosen to devote himself entirely to the war effort. Which, fine, whatever, it wasn’t like they couldn’t use it. She wanted to do the same thing, but she had siblings to look after. But he practically lived in the arena, training constantly. The piles of laundry and trash never moved, always the same shape and size from week to week–some of the other counselors were beginning to think that he slept there, too. 

While the demigod in question was engrossed with mutilating the straw dummy like it had insulted his mother, Annabeth chose to take a seat on the bleachers instead, and wait until he had tired himself out enough for him to take a break. She had made the mistake of interrupting him during a set before, and would like to walk away from this without his sword in her face. 

The minutes stretched on, and he kept slashing. She was sure that he had registered her presence at some point. But he kept on fighting. 

Annabeth sighed, resting her head on her knees. 

Even after all this time, after all the quests they had done together, he could still confuse the living crap out of her. 

Percy Jackson. The strongest demigod of his age. And he knew it. Which was half the problem. 

He had been at camp longer than anyone else here. Annabeth, who had arrived at fourteen, escorted by a satyr who had picked her up in Richmond, had been as awed as anyone when she first heard about him. And who wouldn’t be? He had gutted the Minotaur with its own horn at age ten. He had bested Luke Castellan in swordsmanship at twelve. Annabeth hadn’t been there when he and Thalia had been placed on opposite capture-the-flag teams, but she’d heard about it afterwards–and had seen the overturned trees around the flooded creek. 

Despite the rumors, their first meeting had been thoroughly unimpressive. After all the talk of his talent and his prowess and his preference for being alone, she had clocked him, not entirely incorrectly, as mostly bark and very little bite, using his power and his sarcasm to keep people at bay. But she was able to match him snark for snark, and in no time at all, they were fast friends, a bond only made stronger by the life-threatening quests they had undertaken together. 

She’d seen him at his best–training with the pegasi, commanding a great war ship through a dangerous sea, holding aloft a blue flag after successfully executing her flawless capture-the-flag plan. And she’d seen him at his worst–shivering after holding the sky, squeaking incessantly as a guinea pig, tied to Procrustes’ mattress. He’d faced more monsters than anyone else at camp. Probably more than any other demigod in a long, long time. And it had made him… well, not pig-headed, not really. Percy was, at his core, too humble to be truly arrogant. 

But something had definitely changed over the last few years. He had become sullen, withdrawn, quicker to anger. Then one night, he would show up at the campfire, and it would be like nothing had changed. Like the sweet kid had become a kind leader, offering encouragement to his peers and comfort to the younger ones. And then the next morning, he would saunter out of his cabin, hair a mess, a glazed, satisfied look in his eyes, and all of Cabin Ten would be abuzz, trying to piece together what had happened. 

Then by lunch, he’d be in a bad mood once again. And on and on and on. 

Twenty years old and a living legend, with the weight of the cosmos on your shoulders. Annabeth could sympathize. But she couldn’t even imagine.

How could he walk around with that weight all the time? 

A hoarse yell and a clang snapped her out of her thoughts, and she lifted her head to a familiar scene.

Percy stood, fists clenched, shoulders tight, over what was left of the dummy, now sliced and diced into stringy bits, no more useful than a pile of pegasus hay. His sword–not his precious Riptide, oh no, just one of their few good training weapons left–was on the other side of the arena, its blade bent nearly at a forty-five degree angle. Annabeth stood up, hands on her hips. “Hey! Seaweed brain!”

He turned to face her. She could see the arrogant arch of his brow from across the room.

“Easy on the equipment!” She stomped down the steps, resisting the urge to shoulder check him as she went to get the sword. “We only have so many of these.” 

Percy shrugged. “And how is that my problem?” 

“I thought you were supposed to be good at this.” She picked up the weapon, examining the bent blade. Oof. That was ugly. “Not damaging the weapons is rule number two.” 

He only shrugged again, turning away to kick the remains of the dummy into something of a pile. Annabeth felt her eye twitch. “Again, how is that my problem? Just get someone from Nine to deal with it.” 

“And who do you think is going to fix this?” She asked, brandishing it at his back. “Jake? He’s busy with the warship? Nyssa? Supply run. And now Beck’s not in any kind of shape to do anything–”

Whirling around, he bared his teeth at her. “Don’t,” he hissed, “bring him up.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna.” Gripping the leather so hard it hurt, she stepped toward him. “Easy in and out,  you said. No fights. No attention. Just stealth. And now, I’ve got Beckendorf in the infirmary, just barely keeping his guts from falling out.” 

“I got us out of there,” he said, “and I took care of the monsters. That’s all that matters.” 

“That’s all that matters?” She was aware, distantly, that she was only a few steps away from yelling at him. Already. They’d barely started talking. Something about him just drove her fucking crazy. “Are you serious?” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, General Chase,” he mocked, rolling his eyes at her. “I’ll just do all my missions solo from now on. No more dead weight.” 

Anger rose from her stomach, hot and ugly. “Is that a joke?” she repeated. “Those are our friends that are getting hurt trying to keep you from doing something stupid!”

His jaw rounded out, stubborn. “I didn’t ask for him to do that. I don’t need your help.”

“We’re fighting a war, Percy,” she said. “We have to help each other. That’s what it means to be on the same team.”

“I don’t care about your stupid team.”

“That’s why you’re in here, breaking our last good weapons? Because you don’t care?” 

“Look,” he nearly spat, drawing himself up to his full height, looking down at her. “I have one job –to be the hero of the prophecy. To defeat Kronos. Everything else–that’s your business, not mine.” 

And then he turned. To walk away. From her. 

He didn’t get more than ten steps before Annabeth had hurled the sword at him. It bounced off his armor, harmlessly, but it got his attention. 

“Hey! You could have–”

“Hurt you?” She marched up to him, poking him in the chest with her finger. It had about as much effect as the sword. “How? You’re the big hero, after all. You’re untouchable!” And then she shoved him. 

He stumbled back, tripping over his foot before righting himself. “I’m not–”

“Not what? Not the hero?” She shoved him again, but he was ready this time. “That’s funny. You’ve only been preparing for it your entire life, right? That’s why we’re all here, isn’t it?” 

“Annabeth–” 

“Every quest, every monster, every fight, they’ve all been so you can have your precious glory,” she snarled. “You and your destiny! Doesn’t matter how many of us get hurt in the process, does it, as long as you get to be remembered–”

“That’s not fair–” He started, face coloring with indignation. 

But she wouldn't hear it. Sick of his face and his attitude and his destiny, she moved to shove him one more time–and he grabbed her wrist. 

“Don’t,” he warned, voice as hard as a crashing wave, “do that again.” 

His gaze bored down on her, and she stood as firmly as stone against it. She could feel his heartbeat through the press of his fingers on her wrist. 

“Or what?” she asked. “Next time it’ll be me instead of Beckendorf?” 

His eyes widened, then narrowed, and with a snarl, he released her arm, uncapping his sword in one smooth, clean move. 

This, Annabeth understood. She and Percy weren’t always on the same page, but this? She could work with this. 

In response, she drew her knife. 

Percy didn’t even wait before launching himself at her. 

His opening salvo had all the force of a tsunami crashing to shore, and if Annabeth had been any slower, it would have slammed into her, knocking her off her feet. She side-stepped it easily, following it up with a quick jab to his center. He dodged it, of course. They had sparred with each other too often to not recognize the other’s signature moves. 

Usually, when he got like this, it took someone on his level to knock some sense back into him. Thalia was best at it, but wasn’t around enough to be reliable. Nico worked in a pinch, though there was enough bad blood between them that parts of camp tended to get leveled by the end of it. If it was an emergency, Clarisse could step in and hold him off for long enough until he tired himself out. 

But no one else was here. It was just Annabeth. 

Fortunately for her, she’d had almost her whole life to study Percy Jackson. 

He lunged, and in a move that Luke Castellan had taught them both, she feinted out of the way at the last second, before diving in towards him behind the reach of his blade, where she grabbed his arm, and flipped him over her shoulder. He landed with a satisfying thud, the breath knocked out of him.

There. “Now, are you going to–” 

He swiped wildly at her feet, and she jumped back. 

Swifter than she thought he could be, he scrambled to his feet. He advanced on her, bringing his sword down in an overhead arc, which she handily blocked. “Please,” she scoffed, light on her feet as she shifted to his side. “I know how you fight. I know you.” 

Eyes narrowed, he twisted, bringing his sword down towards her leg, where her blade was already waiting. Block, block, block, each ringing clang of their weapons sounded in a rhythm Cabin Seven would be proud of as Annabeth fended them all off. Because she did know him. He might drive her crazy, he might hiss and growl and glare, but they had fought alongside each other too long to not know each other, down to their cores. 

Of course, that meant that he knew her, too. And he knew very well that her fatal flaw was pride. 

So sure of herself, she hadn’t noticed that he had steadily closed the distance between them. With a flash of bared teeth, right in her face, he caught her wrist in his left hand, pinning her in place. “You don’t know a thing about me,” he hissed. 

In the dim light of the arena, his already sharp features sharpened even further, eyes glinting with fury. Mouth open, he was panting, his shoulders heaving with the effort of having to keep up with her. Good. 

“You’re right,” she said, knifelike. “Maybe I don’t know you. Because I always thought you considered us your friends, instead of just your cannon-fodder!” 

He roared, shoving her forward, and she skidded across the grass, nearly tripping over her feet. Distantly, she noted that her wrist was throbbing. 

Percy swung his sword, building up his energy, and holding it aloft, he charged towards her, every inch of him radiating near-deadly intent. 

There was no way she could block this strike. 

So she decided to take a page out of Percy’s book. 

Dropping her knife, she charged right back at him, aiming low. 

She caught him around the middle, and their opposite forces sent them both tumbling to the ground. They rolled, limbs flailing as they fought for the upper hand, like two waves crashing into each other. 

But he wouldn’t be taken off guard a second time. Using the new momentum, he rolled so he was on top of her, his big hands pinning her wrists to the ground. Annabeth fought like a woman possessed–a soft grunt from above indicating that she got in a good hit or two–but he was simply too strong for her to throw him off. 

“I guess you really don’t know me at all,” he spat. His lip had split at some point, a single drop of dark blood lingering at the swell of it. “Because anyone I consider to be my friend would know that I would never think that.” 

“Could have fooled me,” she growled, pulling her legs up behind him. If she could just get the right leverage, maybe she could twist them and–

Anticipating her move, he shimmied down, dropping his hips over her thighs. She tried to lift her arm–to punch him or shove him or something–but he slammed them back down towards the ground. 

She wasn’t going anywhere. And he knew it.

But she had one last secret weapon. 

“At least you bothered to bring him back with you,” she said, unkindly–and a little undeservedly, if she was being honest. “If I had been on that mission instead of Beck, would you have left me behind?” 

“Never,” he swore. “I would never.” 

“Oh yeah? Prove it.” 

Percy glared at her, with all the fury of a volcano. She swallowed, worried, for a moment, that she had gone too far. That it was actually true. That maybe he could leave her behind, especially after everything she just said. That maybe she really didn’t know him after all. 

And then he did something that she wasn’t expecting. In retrospect, though, she shouldn’t have been surprised. She had done the same thing to him, after all.  

He kissed her. 

Turns out, he had a secret weapon, too. 

His mouth was hot on top of hers, the bead of blood from his lips falling to her tongue. She gasped, and he invited himself in further, his hand coming up to cup her face. Freeing her arms.  

She could have pushed him off. Told him to go kick rocks. Instead, she buried her hands in his hair, and brought him closer. 

How long they lay there, making out, she didn’t know. All she knew was that it was entirely too short–one moment, he licked at her lips, pressing her further into the dirt, and she whined, high in her throat, and in the next, he was standing a respectable distance away, hands over his mouth, eyes wild. Annabeth blinked, momentarily stunned. Had she hallucinated the whole thing? 

“I–” he stammered, uncharacteristically nervous. “I–I’m sorry, I–” 

Annabeth scrambled upright. Oh no he fucking didn’t– “Don’t you fucking dare–don’t you run away again.”

From the way he had put his weight on his back foot, he was about to do just that. “Excuse me?” he asked, gaping at her. 

“You heard me.” 

“Me? Run away?”

“Yes, you,” she said, gripping the grass hard enough to rip. “You’re a coward, Percy Jackson.” Here he was. Kissing her, and running off again. Last time, it had been to Calypso and Ogygia. Who might he choose over Annabeth now. Or maybe he’d choose a new god or goddess, perhaps. Romance Thetis or fuck Ganymede while Annabeth trained for his war. And pined away for his kiss. 

“Go fuck yourself,” he said, wiping the blood from his split lip, made wet and shiny with her spit. 

She threw a piece of grass at him, like it would do something. “Fuck me yourself” she snarled, blood racing hot. Not Calypso or Thetis or Ganymede or Aphrodite, but her, who was here and desperate and was fated to be screwed up forever by his kiss. By the memory of his hand, cupping her cheek, of his hair between her fingers, of his blood in her mouth. 

The grass, predictably, did nothing. But her words, apparently, did. 

He turned to stare at her, two sword lengths apart. Both of their weapons were on the ground now. But it felt like they were up and at the ready, pointed at each other’s chests. Because what else could this tense, coiled feeling in her stomach be? 

His chest heaved from exertion, a faint sheen of sweat gathered at the line of his thick, black hair, and she couldn’t help herself from tracing a drop as it ran over his brow, to his nose, to his lips, and finally his tongue, poking out from his lips to lick it up. A swell of jealousy rose in her, her tongue pressing against the back of her teeth, like it was trying to get to him. She clenched her jaw and looked away, digging her nails into the dirt floor to try to anchor her back to earth. 

“...What did you say?” 

“Nothing,” she muttered. “You won. Whatever.” 

In the corner of her vision, she saw his hand, outstretched and extended, and she took it, allowing him to pull her up off the ground. His long fingers, perfect for curling around the hilt of a sword, wrapped around her palm, his thumb inadvertently swiping over the bruise where he had grabbed her, and she suppressed a wince. 

“You okay?” 

Not well enough, it seemed. “Fine.” 

His hand in hers, he brought it to his face, inspecting the purple spot. She could feel his breath on her fingers, so soft and gentle, an unexpected counterpoint to his firm, steady grip. “I’m sorry,” he said, unable to meet her eyes. 

“It’s okay.” It didn’t actually hurt that bad. It’d probably be gone by tomorrow morning. 

He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes dark and stormy. Looking into her own, their hands still clasped together.

And then he leaned forward and she met him halfway.

The last time anyone had ever kissed Annabeth Chase was at a party after the Harvard-Yale game her freshman year, before she’d decided she had to take a leave of absence to be a full-time demigod. (Even her dad agreed that if the world ended, there would not be a lot of use for BS in Architecture. But neither of them were happy about it.) The guy had smelled like beer, and had half his face painted crimson. She’d also been a little drunk. Mostly because the tequila shots her roommate had provided had ended up stronger than camp strawberry wine, which had always been her go to drink of choice. Before that had been Noah from her freshman seminar. Which had been one long exercise in disappointment. After disappointment. After disappointment. 

He pulled away, breaking off with a quiet gasp. “Did you mean what you said?” he asked.

“What?” She had said a lot of things. And her brain was a little bit scrambled from the kiss. 

“You told me to…” He trailed off, flushing. Then, like he was about to face a monster, she saw him swallow, square his shoulders, and look her in the eye again. “About fucking you.” 

She blinked. “What?” And this wasn’t happening. She could not be interpreting this correctly. Percy Jackson, hero of Olympus, greatest demigod alive, who could have any mortal and likely any immortal woman he wanted–Percy Jackson, who was going to die in just over a month, on his twenty-first birthday–was not asking her this. 

“You told me to fuck you,” he said, unflinching, having apparently gathered his strength. “Do you mean it?”

There had to be a way to save face with this. To not come off as one of his little groupies. To not set herself up for the inevitable heartbreak at the end of the summer. 

She could deflect quickly, accuse him of spending too much time at camp if he didn’t know a simple figure of speech. Make a joke about him being too forward. Make a joke about his dad and him being too easy. Ask if he was just worried about dying a virgin. (A stupid thought. He was too handsome, too powerful, too good to not have girls around camp throwing themselves at him. She’d seen it. And he was kind, and sweet, and good. But he wasn’t that good.)

She was the smartest person in the camp. She could get out of this. She was the smartest person at camp. She knew it meant men like Percy Jackson didn’t want to sleep with her. 

But from behind his stormy gaze was something else–desperation, from a young man doomed to die. He needed this… and maybe she did, too. 

She nodded. “Yes. I do.” 

He blinked, like he was taking a moment to process what she had said. “Okay. Come on, then.”  Turning, he led her away from the arena, never letting go of her hand. 

Outside, darkness was settling in. She thought he might be taking her to the infirmary, which she thought was a little bit extra for what was a minor bruise at best, but he took them in a different direction. She could have pulled away, kicked him in the balls, or flipped him into the dirt again. But she didn’t. 

Together, they made their way in silence to the halo of cabins, their shadows stretching and melting across the grass in the last few rays of daylight. Annabeth’s slowly deteriorating rational brain couldn’t even spare a thought to worry about someone possibly seeing them–though, apparently, that wasn’t an issue at all tonight, as Camp was practically deserted, almost deafening in its silence. In lieu of chatter and sword clangs and laughter, there were owls, the gentle waves on the beach, and her heartbeat, loud enough to drown it all out. 

Still holding her hand, he led her to his cabin, making quick work of unlocking the door. Most of the cabins didn’t have locks, but she knew there had been a few… incidents… of kids hoping to filch a souvenir from the mysterious lair of Percy Jackson. After the third decoy pen had disappeared, Beck had pitched in to help. 

But a lair it was not. It looked exactly like it had the last time she’d been there–a pile of laundry here, scattered candy wrappers there, the Minotaur horn still proudly displayed on the wall, gleaming darkly in the low light. Annabeth hadn’t been inside n months, ever since the last inspection ended up with her stubbing her toe no less than three times on a couple of loose nails which Percy had sworn up and down hadn’t been there five minutes ago, but she would have remembered seeing the giant fountain which now stood in the corner of the room. So it must have been new. 

“Redecorated recently?” she said, intending it to be a little harsher than it came out. 

“Gift from dad,” he replied, closing the door behind them. 

“Oh.” She could have guessed. The water pouring out must have been warm, a spray of mist ringing the edge of the basin, but she shivered anyway. 

The hand which had held hers moved to her arm now, gently turning her to face him. The fight was over. The walk back to the cabins wasn’t exactly difficult. And yet, he was still breathing hard. Like he just couldn’t catch it. 

The cabin was warm, sweet but not suffocating, but for a moment, she was thrown back to a dark cavern in the heart of a volcano, searing heat all around her, his t-shirt in her grip, her mouth against his. Her pulse skipped a beat as he brought his hand up to her hair, threading his fingers through her curls, and then he kissed her again. 

But “kiss” wasn’t really strong enough to describe what he was doing to her. 

In one moment, he held her like she was made of glass, and in the next, he had her crushed to his chest, lips pressed against her own. His arm had snaked around her waist, firm like iron, and somehow he had managed to slip his even firmer thigh between her own.

Wiggling a hand between their bodies, she gripped his shoulder, using the leverage to pull her mouth away, catching her breath. “Well,” she chuckled, a little light-headed, “someone’s excited–”

He cut her off, capturing her lips again, pulling her even tighter to him. His mouth felt hotter than any volcano. The hand in her hair pulled, ever so slightly, a calculated move to open her mouth so he could properly plunder it with his tongue. Clever. She didn’t think he’d had it in him. 

She could appreciate a good strategy. But she wouldn’t be taken down so quickly. 

The hand in her hair drifted sideways, gently turning her head so he could move his attack to her neck. And as she stood there, wrapped up in his embrace, she realized that she had made a grave miscalculation. 

Percy Jackson was not, apparently, worried he would die a virgin. He knew exactly what he was doing. Even when he pulled back, cradling her jaw, his thigh between hers the only thing keeping her from following. “Tell me again,” he said. “One more time.”

She blinked, uncomprehendingly. “Excuse me?” 

“Do you want to do this?” 

“You’re really asking that with your knee on my crotch?” 

At least he had the decency to blush, peach dusting the tips of his ears. “It’s like with the fighting. I’m asking because I’ve been told I can get a little… intense.” 

A sickly feeling went through her stomach, sharp as a knife. “By who?” 

Stone-faced, he looked away, his jaw snapping shut. 

Names and faces of potential culprits flashed through her mind: Drew, Katie, Miranda. All potential candidates. But if they had managed to bag Percy Jackson, everyone at camp would have heard about it before breakfast. There was Rachel, obviously, even if she didn’t want to admit it. But if it had been her, he would have been more embarrassed. He knew how Annabeth felt about her. 

Then she remembered–he had been missing for a month after he exploded the mountain. Lost beyond the reach of mortals. And when he had returned, he was different. Older, somehow, and maybe sadder. Like something had been lost. 

He released her, and she shivered at the sudden touch of air against her skin. “Go ahead and hop in the shower,” he said. “I’ll lock up and join you in a minute.” 

“Shower?” 

He raised an eyebrow. “We are a little smelly from earlier.” 

On cue, the stench of cooling sweat hit her all at once, and she blushed. 

Percy snorted, then kissed her cheek. “Go on,” he said. “I’ll just be a second.” And off he went, picking up a spare shirt and a couple of candy wrappers. How thoughtful of him. 

Showering was thoughtful, too, but it also seemed pretty silly to her. Like, they were only going to get sweatier in just a little bit, so what was even the point? 

Still, she had to admit, it was a nice shower. She was always fighting with her cabin mates for shower times, and they had instituted a strict, five-minute limit on water usage. Perks of living by yourself, she supposed–unlimited access to the bathroom. 

And perks of living in Cabin Three, apparently–the shower turned on immediately, a wave of gentle, consistent pressure which already started pumping out warm water. Had he paid his cyclops brother to gut the plumbing and redo the whole thing? 

Spoiled, supercilious ass.

Shoes and socks kicked off and haphazardly discarded in the corner, she stripped off her camp shirt and shorts, piling them on top of the closed toilet seat, before hesitating as she went to remove her bra. Which was stupid. How was she supposed to shower and have sex with someone while wearing her underwear? And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to take it off, her fingers stayed by some invisible force as they rested on the straps. On the other side of the wall, she could hear Percy humming to himself, tuneless, his footsteps soft against the wooden floor. 

She was being stupid. 

She swallowed her pride, and shucked off her bra and underwear, laying them gently across the rest of her clothes. 

The water ran hot, pleasantly so, steam filling the bathroom and fogging the shower. Shaking out her hair from its wispy, half-undone ponytail, she decided against letting it run free, putting it back up in a bun instead. She still had a day or two left in her shampoo rotation, no need to mess with it now. 

She sighed as she stepped in, the water pummeling her stiff shoulders, forcing them to relax, and she considered the merits of using what she presumed to be Percy’s soap, which rested on the corner shelf. Picking it up the bar, she sniffed it, carefully. Instead of gross boy smell, she got whiffs of salt, lavender, and sandalwood. It was nice. 

“You can use my soap if you want.” 

Only her many years of battle training kept her from jumping, slipping on the wet floor, and banging her head on the wall as she went down. As it was, she only flinched–barely–whipping her head around to glare at him. 

Of course, her carefully constructed insult withered away in her mouth as she got her first look at his naked body. His perfectly formed, perfectly shaped body. Fuck. Look at him. What the fuck. 

His lips twitched, like he was trying not to smile. For a moment, she was stunned. When was the last time she had seen him without a scowl? “Can I come in?” 

“S–” she coughed, dryly, and he raised an eyebrow. Cracking her head open might have been preferable. “Sure. Yeah. Your shower.” 

And he slipped into the shower with her. 

“May I?” he said, holding his hand out. 

She stared, uncomprehending, until he flicked his eyes to the soap. Wordlessly, she handed it over. 

“Turn around,” he murmured. “I’ll do your back.” 

And wordlessly, she did. 

His hands were the same temperature as the water, but she still flinched as he put them on her, one on her shoulder and one on her hip. “Easy,” he said, and she hated the way his tone made her flush. 

Slowly, carefully, he began to wash her with his soap. His hands skimmed over her skin, hypnotic, and despite her best efforts, she relaxed even further. She didn’t even jump when he stepped closer to her, his warm breath softly puffing against her neck, then the press of his lips to her ear even softer. She sighed, and he hummed, kissing the spot again. 

Annabeth stood there, submitting to Percy’s attentions, and her nerves slipped away with the water. It wasn’t very long until she was fully leaning into him, her back pressed right up against his firm chest, his hands wandering over her hips and thighs and stomach. Distantly, she recognized the brilliance of the soap trick–it was an easy way for him to get his hands on her, and boy was it working. 

And boy was she not bothered by it.

“So,” she asked, after a while, “is this a thing for you?”

He hummed, a wordless question. 

“Washing people. Is it a kink?” 

He snorted. “Hardly. We’re just sweaty.” 

“So it’s the shower, then.” 

This time, he actually laughed. “I’m not a shower sex person, no.” 

She turned her head to look at him, frowning. “Seriously?” 

Shrugging, he drew the bar of soap behind her ear, and she had to clench her teeth to stop herself from moaning. “Most of my previous partners aren’t much for showering.”

Wait, what? “Are you sneaking off to some hippy commune on off days?” She couldn’t help but ask.

“Nah, too much effort. The lake’s right there.” 

“...You’ve lost me.” 

He shot her a look, slanted, eyebrow raised.

She frowned, mind racing. He hadn’t slept with anyone from camp. He didn’t go off into the mortal world. The lake was right there. Who would… Oh. “The naiads? Really?” 

“Who else am I going to hook up with here? If I slept with another camper, everyone would hear about it by breakfast the next morning.” 

And yet, here she was, in the shower of Cabin Three. Clearly, he didn’t mind the gossip if it was about her. Heat pooled in her stomach, zipping through her veins. 

“I guess that makes sense,” she said, turning back to face forward. She couldn’t look at his bare chest for too long without getting weak in the knees. She couldn’t think about his perfect body pressed up against the inhumanly beautiful water spirits without wanting to be sick. “They always were incorrigible flirts.” 

“Yeah, well.” His hand now clean, he began wiping the soap off her body, taking care to cover every dip and curve. “I don’t really think it was me they were interested in.” 

She swallowed, her stomach twinging unpleasantly. 

The naiads were incorrigible flirts, with everyone, but they were especially aggressive with Percy. Even when he was a boy, she would always spy them blowing him kisses from under the water, or spot them leaving him little gifts of braided duckweed crowns outside his cabin, or at his table in the dining pavilion. That a flirtation might escalate to something… more… didn’t exactly surprise her. 

But it did piss her off. 

And the thought of Percy, handsome, kind Percy, in the hands of an inhumanly beautiful spirit… well that just pissed her off more. 

Lost in her thoughts and the feeling of his hands, it took her a minute to put together just what his fingers were tracking on her stomach, which twinged again, for an entirely different reason. 

“What’s wrong?” Percy asked. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she ground out, cheeks hot. “It’s nothing.” 

She felt his breathing, measured his calm, and could almost hear his incredulity when he asked, “You’re not ashamed of your scars, are you?” 

“Well…” 

Annabeth could almost picture the furrow in his brow as he parsed her words. She could turn around to see it, too, if she wanted, but she found herself frozen in place, held still by the trace of his fingertips over the white, jagged lines which hadn’t come from a weapon or claw. 

“The stretch marks?” he asked, after a moment. “Seriously?” 

“You literally just told me that you like to hook up with the naiads,” she grumbled, her attempt at crossing her arms aborted by the fact that they were trapped under Percy’s. “Excuse me for being a normal girl with body issues.” 

“What for?” 

She turned back to look at him. His face was just as she had pictured it. “Seriously?” she echoed. 

“Seriously. You’re…” He trailed off, still frowning, but she could see the wheels turning in his head. At least he was thinking about what to say, rather than just blurting out some silly, basic, uninspired ‘beautiful’ and calling it a day. 

When he didn’t follow up, she wondered if he had something critical to say instead.

But no, he only turned her around, pressing her up against him once again. Cupping her face, he leaned down, pressing another deep kiss into her, and she couldn’t help but lean into it, too, wrapping her arms about his neck, standing up on her toes. His hands, now free to roam, covered as much ground as they could, stroking her neck, her back, her sides, and lower, and lower. Warm hands moved from her shoulder blades to her ass, cupping the swell of it, holding her there. Waiting. 

For what? Should she jump into his arms? She wouldn’t necessarily mind that. Was he an “up against the wall” kind of guy? How would that have worked underwater, anyway? 

He broke away from her mouth, panting, and he gasped, “You think too much.” 

Without realizing it, she had been rendered breathless as well. Too well, maybe. She wasn’t thinking at all, at the moment. “What?”

“I can feel your brain working.” He kissed her again, one hand traveling back up to her hip, and she actually whimpered into his mouth. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.” 

Ah. “So I’m all brains, no beauty, then?” 

He pulled back, frowning again. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“It’s not exactly an insult,” she said, leaning up for another kiss. And it wasn’t. The long-simmering tensions between Six and Ten were common knowledge. Athena’s children prioritized one over the other, and it wasn’t the one that would put her in league with the pretty water spirits. 

He let her, but not for very long. “You’re both.”

“It’s really okay–” 

“It’s really not.” He kissed her this time, and hard. Harder than before, Her toes curled, and suddenly she was very grateful for the hand on her ass which didn’t let her fall. “You’ve always been both.” 

Her response was quashed by his tongue in her mouth, swallowed up by the nip of his teeth on her lips, snuffed out by the squeeze of his hand on her hip. 

“You,” kiss, bite, gasp, “are,” he moved to her jaw, then her neck, then her shoulder, planting hot kisses on each inch of skin, hotter than the water which pooled around their feet, “beautiful.” 

“Okay,” she said, fighting through the moan which threatened to burst from her chest, “now you’re laying it on a bit thick.” 

His only response was to drag his teeth across her jugular, soothing the trail of fire with his tongue. He kissed across the line of her collarbone, his lips pressing hot burns into her skin, and she shuddered as he reached her sternum. His hands traveled up her sides, but she had no time to mourn the loss, especially as his fingers came to rest just beneath her breasts. 

Flicking his eyes, wine-dark, up to hers, he rested his mouth just above her skin, one eyebrow raised, a silent question, seeking confirmation. Even the hot puffs of air over her chest were enough to make her tremble, and she had to bite her tongue to keep her eyes from fluttering closed. 

“Seriously,” she said, latching onto the last bits of sanity she had left, “you’ve already got me naked in your shower. You don’t have to flatter me into your bed. I know I’m not as hot as your immortal harem, it’s fine.” 

It was. And she was almost comfortable with that. She might have been, if it were all a question of abstractions, and not the knowledge that whatever sweet words he whispered, Percy Jackson would, inevitably, compare her to them. She might have been, if she could ever hope to measure up to them. 

Annabeth was only a mortal. How could she ever compare to such inhuman beauty? 

“Stop that.” His thumbs, ever so slightly, tilted up towards her breasts. 

“Stop what?” 

“Comparing yourself to them.” Lowering his head, his eyes never left hers, as deep and inexorable as a whirlpool. “Especially when this is so much better.” 

And he brought down his lips and teeth around a nipple. 

She jumped–into him, and he smirked. 

He kept her pinned there for a while, groping and grasping at her, and all the while, he feasted himself upon her. There was no other word for it. He covered every inch of skin with his mouth, moving from breast to breast and shoulder to shoulder, dragging his tongue over her, hot enough to burn. She let her head fall back, making room for his hungry mouth which peppered kisses up and down her neck.

So close to him, she felt his dark chuckle vibrate into her bones, skittering down her spine, scratching that most perfect itch, and she groaned, her hips stuttering as she faltered. Thank the gods for his leg, her shaking knees only stabilized by the thrust of his firm thigh between hers. He brought his hands around, roughly grasping her other breast, and she nearly jumped again. “W–what–” A squeeze, hot and hungry, and her thighs trembled. “What are you talking about?” 

In lieu of an answer, he bit her again. His teeth clamped over the pulse point in her neck, and he sucked. Hard. 

Someone should have informed Annabeth’s body that the neck wasn’t an erogenous zone, but it clearly hadn’t gotten the message–with every suck, every nip, every burning press of his lips, the ache between her legs only grew hotter and hotter. She clutched him to her, digging her fingers into the muscle of his shoulder, and felt his laugh all the way into her blood. 

Eventually, he released her, with one final swipe of his tongue across the newly growing bruise. “Gods,” he hissed, staring at her neck. “Look at you.” 

She swallowed, feeling the throb of her broken skin almost inside of her. A good, omen, hopefully. 

“Your neck.” He dipped down to kiss it again, before moving south. “Your skin.” His hand ghosted beneath the swell of her breast, fingertips leaving burning trails. “Look.” 

She did. She couldn’t not. 

The hot steam of the shower had turned her skin pink. Old scar tissue, years of mostly victorious battles, criss-crossed her body, the lines now nearly white. Percy traced them with his fingers, kissed his way across the map of her body, from breast to stomach to hips. “Perfect,” he murmured, getting down on his knees. 

Flushing, as hot as the water, Annabeth looked up at the ceiling, lip between her teeth. She couldn’t look at him. Not like that. Not with his eyes shining, dark and hungry. Not with the way his hands cradled her hips, firmly but gently. 

And then, he smacked her ass. 

She yelped, hopping up onto her toes. “The hell–!”

“I’ve wanted to do that forever,” he said, that slanted grin making her melt. “I always wondered what color you’d turn if I spanked you.” He flicked his gaze up at her, eyes so blown out they were nearly black, and he smacked her again. And again. “Oh yeah,” he grinned. “That’s a nice red.” 

Presumably, her face was just as red as her ass was now. “Good for you.” 

Good for her, too. 

“Annabeth,” he called from below. “Look at me.” 

Her eyes fluttered open, and she did. He knelt before her, and she saw his hands along her thighs, his mouth parted, lips and tongue wet–and his cock. Hard. Red. Painfully at attention.

“You don’t know how much I thought about you,” he murmured, taking one leg and draping it over his shoulder. “How I used to dream about you.” He pressed a kiss to her thigh, and Annabeth, embarrassingly, moaned, a long, deep, drawn-out thing, which only served to make him grin. “About this.” 

It was impossible to mistake his intentions here. He had telegraphed it every step of the way. And yet, even with him on his knees, his mouth between her legs, and hunger in his eyes, it still surprised her when he put his tongue to her cunt. 

She gripped his hair, spine bending, and felt his lips curve against her skin. 

Okay. Definitely not a virgin. 

Hot breath puffed against her thigh, and he dragged the flat of his tongue over her folds, wet, slow, and obscene, over and over again, so loud she could hear it, even over the roar of the shower. One hand came up to brace her against him, splayed out over the small of her back, while the other dug crescents into her skin, little sparks stoking the fire ever hotter. 

Annabeth had given head maybe once or twice, but she’d never gotten it. She’d endured a few finger fumbles from less-than-skilled practitioners in the heat of the moment, and decided that she didn’t want their faces anywhere near her vagina. And to hear it from the girls around camp, a lot of guys, both mortal and demigod, weren’t exactly enthusiastic about the whole cunnilingus thing. 

Not so with Percy. He knelt beneath her, sturdy as a statue, his onslaught against her showing no signs of stopping. Before long, he had abandoned the flat of his tongue, trading wide coverage for a more concentrated area of attack. As smoothly as he used his sword, he slid his tongue between the folds of her cunt, the sharp edge opening her up, little by little, the point flickering along her clit, sending tiny shocks all up into her. 

Blood roared in her ears, fighting with the heavy spray of water, the wet smack of his lips, the rhythmic grunts of pleasure she only realized came from her when he pulled back, grinning up at her, and said only one word: “Louder.” 

Suddenly she was very grateful for the sounds of the shower spray. 

She was even more grateful when he moved from merely licking along the seam of her cunt to sticking his tongue right inside it. A moan broke through her throat, punching out of her almost painfully, and she curled over Percy’s head, gripping his hair even tighter, which only had the added effect of pushing her hips further into his mouth. 

Seizing on the sudden change in her center of gravity, he readjusted her leg to put more weight on his shoulder, freeing up the hand on her back for a much more important task–slipping his finger inside of her. 

“Fuck,” she moaned, clenching around the thick slide of it. “Percy.” 

His smirk burned against her thigh, and he pulled her even closer, locking her into his embrace, lips and tongue and teeth and hand sending her ever closer towards the edge at an alarming rate. Annabeth had never gotten so close to orgasm with anyone so quickly before in her life. 

Hell, she’d never gotten so close to orgasm so quickly, period. 

She wanted to tell him to stop, or slow down. If this was to be their only night together, then she wanted to enjoy it, not fumble through as quickly as possible. Rhythmically, she flexed her fingers in his thick hair, attempting to hold on to the few functional brain cells she had so she could tell him something fun and sexy, like, Why the rush, or It’s not a race, until he pressed the mound of his palm up against her clit, and her brain shorted out entirely. 

And when he licked it, wrapping his lips around and sucking, it was all over. 

She came, hard, curling over his head, moaning so wantonly it would make Eros blush. If Percy hadn’t been beneath her, holding her trembling body, she might have fallen over entirely. She must have missed a few seconds, because suddenly, Percy had slithered out from under her, and had gathered her up in his arms again, kissing her so fiercely she could taste herself on him. 

“Annabeth,” he moaned, his breath as hot as his hands. She could feel him against her, as hard as bronze. 

She would have responded, if he hadn’t rendered her completely useless. Her tongue felt numb in her mouth, battered by his, a slick, wet, heavy onslaught that she never wanted to end. A siege she desperately hoped would never be broken. 

Eventually, though, after she had been kissed thoroughly stupid, he let up, pulling back more than two inches away from her face. “Okay?” he ground out, his voice rough and gravelly, wrecked like he was the one who had been doing the screaming. 

“Hng,” she responded, eloquently. 

It was only the smallest shred of lingering pride which let her walk out of that shower on her own two feet, rather than have Percy carry her to his bed, like she was some kind of blushing bride. The thought brought her, a bit cruelly, back into herself, and she shivered in a way that had nothing to do with the sudden absence of the warm water as Percy shut off the shower. “Okay?” he asked again, his hand on her waist, and she nodded, swallowing at the feel of gooseflesh which ran through her body. 

She nodded, running her tongue over her lips, a pleasant spark bursting inside her as she watched his eyes track it. “I thought,” she said, the taunt lightly undercut by the audible sigh in her voice, “that you were going to fuck me.” 

His eyes darkened, trench-deep, and he moved his hand to entwine it with hers, entirely too gentle for the way he growled out his next words: “If you wanted a good fucking, all you had to do was ask.” 

“Isn’t that why you dragged me into your lair?” she asked, leading him to the bed. She needed to sit down or her legs might give out. “To give me a good fucking?” 

Before she could sit down, though, he pulled her to him again, fastening his lips to her neck. “I think,” he whispered into her skin, “that you should ask me for it.” 

“What?” 

“You heard me.” And then he nipped at her jugular, lightly, and she gasped, twitching in his arms. “Ask me to fuck you.” 

“Percy–” she tried, half-heartedly, to squirm out of his embrace, but he wouldn’t budge. 

“Mm?” He licked her ear, and she squeaked. “What was that?” 

Annabeth pushed at his chest. 

In response, he blew a raspberry on her. 

Shrieking, she managed to twist her way out of his arms, and shoved him lightly onto the bed. Percy made it easier, laughing too hard to hold onto her. “Asshole.” 

He leaned back, resting on his elbows, a smooth, fluid motion, the dim lights of his cabin casting his chest and stomach in sinful shadow. “Aw, let me have my fun,” he chuckled. “First time I tried that on a naiad, she thought it was some kind of mysterious, human wedding rite.” 

Something in Annabeth’s chest grew hot. She wasn’t sure what was worse–the reminder that Percy had slept with the naiads, the idea that he had tried something human with them and they had misunderstood it, or the use of the w-word. Wedding. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “How would you like it if someone sprang that on you?” 

He grinned, sharklike. “I think I’d like that very much.” 

It hit her, then, what position they’d ended up in. Sprawled out before her, Percy had let his legs fall open, a twitch away from bracketing her between them. And there, staring her in the face, was his cock. Hard. Pointed at her. 

She swallowed, her mouth filling with saliva. Which was a new experience. 

Nothing about her previous sexual encounters had ever inspired her to try fellatio before. She’d given a couple of handjobs, sure, but this was uncharted territory. In theory, the idea had always sounded… decidedly unappealing. Penises were gross, as were often the guys attached to them.

But there was Percy’s cock. It didn’t look gross at all. 

It looked perfect, and purple, and so, so fucking pretty.

Only the creak of her knees as she knelt down was able to snap her out of her trance. She wasn’t exactly the most graceful person–she guessed she should be thankful she had managed to get down here without collapsing in an embarrassing heap. She tried not to picture the naiads, creatures of otherworldly grace and poise, slithering down to kneel before their lord’s son. 

And then she realized his cock was at eye-level, and all other thoughts went out the window. 

“Hey.” Percy’s hand was on her cheek, and he tilted her face towards him. His eyes were soft as he looked at her, the heat of the moment not quite as intense as before. “You don’t have to,” he said, even as his fingers skated beneath her chin. His thumb hovered before her lips, twitching. 

“You don’t want me to?” She asked. Experimentally, she flicked out her tongue, making contact. 

“I… don’t know how to answer that question,” he said, hoarse. 

“You don’t?” She looked again to his cock, and breathed on his thumb, her breath as hot and wet as she could make it. 

It twitched. He hissed, like he had been shocked. 

In response, she laughed, deep in her throat. “Seems like you just did.” 

And then, in what might have been the most brazen thing she had ever done, including inviting the son of Poseidon to fuck her out of nowhere, she reached forward, and took his thumb into her mouth. She drew her tongue against the skin, licking the clean taste of him, and hollowed her cheeks in an exaggerated suck. 

Spots of red appeared on his cheeks, and his jaw dropped open. “Gods,” he growled, a tone of voice she had never heard out of his mouth before. Something deep inside her pulsed, and she decided to do it again. 

“Gods,” he said again, eyes as black as a sea storm. 

Dragging her tongue along the line of his thumb, she let her eyes flutter close, lips curling as she heard him groan, wrecked like a ship on shore. 

“Gods,” he said a third time, his fingers delicately cradling her face, and a thrill went through her. “The fucking mouth on you.”

Releasing his thumb with an obscene pop, she pressed forward, ready to put that mouth to use. And she wanted to. She wanted to hear her name as it spilled from his lips, in choked, bitten-off gasps, or long, loud moans. She wanted to send his eyes rolling, to have him tangle his fingers in her hair, bending over her as she brought him to ever higher heights. She wanted to make him feel as amazing, as wanted, as he did for her. 

But he had other ideas, evidently. “C’mere,” he murmured, pulling her back up to him. He wasted no time, kissing her senseless, occupying her mouth in other ways. Hungry hands gripped at her hips, her tits, her chin and her cheeks, and she just let it all happen. 

Well, almost. “I thought,” she said, panting just a little, “you wanted me to–”

He cut her off with a kiss. “Not tonight,” he said, softly, before going back for more. 

But she pulled back, confused. “What do you mean?” Tonight was all they had. He was going to die soon. She’d never get the chance to suck his dick if not tonight. She’d never get the chance to do anything else with him if not tonight.

Slowly, achingly tender, he tucked a curl behind her ear, all passion deserting him for the moment. “I don’t…” he swallowed, then, suddenly shy, before bringing her in closer, enveloping her in an embrace. 

After a second of shock, she returned it, wrapping her arms around him. Even with a girl naked and in his lap, perched on top of his hard cock, nevertheless he held her far more gently than she ever imagined he could be capable of. He buried his nose in her neck, his breath hot against her skin, and if she hadn’t been so close, she never would have heard his next words. 

“I don’t want you like that,” he said, barely audible. 

She was proud of how little her voice betrayed the sudden, cold shock that came over her, like she had been dumped in the lake. “Oh.” 

“No, I mean–” He shook his head, nose against her skin. “Not at my feet.” 

Not at–...ah. Of course. The naiads. 

I don’t really think it was me they were interested in.

She pressed her lips to his hair, already bone dry even after their shower. “Okay,” she promised. “Okay, I won’t.” 

He nodded into her neck, and just held her for a little while longer. 

“Besides,” he said, after a moment. “I like this just fine.” 

She tilted her head back, giving him more access. “Like what?” 

“You.” Kiss. “Here.” Another, lower on her neck. “Smelling like me.” 

Cheeks red, she let him pepper kisses all over her skin, fingertips tapping scattered rhythms against his shoulders. Any time she tried to pull away, he dug his fingers in deeper, hands tightening about her waist, a quick nip to her neck to keep her in place, and she just let him. Let him explore her body like the seas they sailed through and the labyrinths they’d traversed together. His hands traced a path from top to bottom, from neck to spine to stomach to clit, as sure and confident as though he had Ariadne’s thread, and she couldn’t help but sigh at every burning touch and scorching kiss. With every stroke and every bite, he pulled a moan from her, playing her as skillfully as any musician. 

“That’s it,” he growled, leaning down to kiss between her breasts. “Don’t hold back–I want to hear your moans.” 

Oh, he did, did he? 

Tipping her head back so she could look down her nose at him, she met his eyes, and shut her jaw with an audible clack. 

He raised an eyebrow at her. 

Annabeth raised hers back, a silent challenge.

“Oh, we’re being shy now, are we? What happened to the girl who basically fellated my thumb?” He bent his head towards her breast, grazing his teeth across the skin, running his tongue around her nipple. 

She had to chew on her lips to keep her mouth shut. A squeak still managed to escape, but he had just given a sharp bite to her nipple, so she thought that was allowed. Soothed by the swipe of a tongue, Annabeth swallowed her moans as best she could, which meant that it had to come out in other ways. She tightened her legs around his, squirming on top of his lap, gratified by the hiss that came from beneath. 

Grinning, Percy took up the cause with vigor, slipping his fingers inside of her. 

Was she so turned on it hurt? Yes. Was it getting harder and harder to keep her noises in? Absolutely. But she wasn’t going to sit there and just take what he was giving her. She wasn’t one of the simpering naiads who only treated him as an extension of his father. 

She was Annabeth, and she refused to make it easy for him. 

And judging from the gleeful glint in his eyes, he was certainly enjoying it. 

In one smooth motion, he turned them over, laying her down on his bed. She grabbed him before he could pull back, bringing him down with her for another blisteringly hot kiss, and he went with no resistance to speak of. Not content to confine her hands to his hair, she let them wander all over the expanse of his body, paying him back in kind as much as she could. His arms, his shoulders, his back, his ass–oh dear gods, his ass, how in any of the nine realms could anyone have an ass that perfect–until eventually, she reached his cock, which jumped as she wrapped her fingers around it, giving it a few slow, languid pumps. In her arms, he shuddered, moaning so deep in his chest she felt it vibrate through her body. He shifted, and his hips accidentally rocked up against hers in the most perfect angle. 

It was enough to break her self-imposed silence, and she gasped, sharp and broken. 

When he did it again, she realized it was no accident. 

“You motherf–”

Percy kissed the curse out of her mouth, leaving her breathless. Like a man possessed, he threw himself back down onto her body, kissing and licking and sucking and touching a path towards her cunt, and she was almost paralyzed at the pleasure of it all. 

When he reached her stomach, she finally had collected enough oxygen to ask, “So, how am I doing?” 

He lifted his head, blinking at her uncomprehendingly. “Huh?” 

“In bed. How am I doing? How do I measure up to the nai–”

A bite, and she gasped. “What did I say about comparing yourself to them?” he asked, and followed it up with another bite, this time on her thigh. “It's really not fair to them.”

“What?” she gasped. She almost hadn’t heard him over the ringing in her ears.  

He pulled back, and looked up at her. And she felt more then watched as one of his sword calloused fingers moved to trace along her knee, where she had a scar. It wasn’t a battle scar. Not even from training. When she had been little, she’d fallen down while ice skating and ended up cutting her knee on a branch resting on the lake. 

“Have you ever had sex with a nature spirit?” 

She blinked at him, the gears furiously turning in her head at this break in sensation. Annabeth was a person who could count her sexual experiences on one hand, and reached a peak exactly none of those times. It was fairly well known that water and plant spirits tended towards women, especially around camp. Though she might have been closer to bi than straight, Percy Jackson didn’t know that. She didn’t exactly want to share all of this with him, either. So she shook her head. 

He sat a little further back, which was not really the action she wanted him to do, but she was more desperate for him to explain than she was to complain. 

“They’re so perfect,” was the only answer he gave her, looking at her face, and then back at the scar on her knee, brushing it with his fingers, and then petting a little lower down her leg. 

With an unsexy twist to her stomach, she realized he was looking at the leg hair. “Sorry.” 

He looked up at her again, frowning, before placing a kiss on the scar. “You’re not listening,” he said again. “They’re perfect. They’re some sort of weird ideal. Everything is smooth and perfect, like it was carved from marble based on some platonic ideal of a woman.”

“Because that’s so reassuring.” 

Percy placed another kiss on her thigh. “And fucking marble is like fucking anything platonically.” He sighed, just the barest shade of world-weariness peeking out from behind his careful facade. “There's nothing there. Not really. No flaw. No evidence of fighting. No humanity.” He grasped at her thigh, where another set of stretch marks lay. “They can't have anything like this. Because they can’t grow and change. “ He smirked at her, and the world settled back into balance a little. “Their asses certainly don’t turn red when I give them a good smack.” 

You could probably power a small country with the heat coming off her face. She should talk to Jake about developing a new, renewable energy source out of this. But still, something nagged at her. 

Apparently, he could tell. “What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning.

“I know you’ve…” She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat, blocking the words from coming out. 

He sat back on his haunches, hands gently resting above her knees. “What is it?” 

“I’m…” 

Some kind of understanding flickered in his eyes, and he pulled his hands back. “Okay. We don’t have to do anything–” 

“Percy.” She shot her hand out and grabbed his before he could get too far away. “That’s not what I want.” 

“Look, if you’re feeling weird about this, we can stop right now–” 

Shaking her vehemently, she tugged on his arm to bring him back to her, but he wouldn’t budge. “I’m not feeling weird, I promise. I mean,” she tilted her head, considering, “I am, but not about–about you.”  

He softened, just a hair. “Then what is it?” 

Sighing, she looked down at his hand, twining their fingers together. “You’ve done this a lot, right?” 

A pause. “Well, yeah. I mean, mostly with the naiads. But yeah. I’ve… done it a few times,” he said, sheepish. 

“Okay, well, I haven’t.”

His eyes widened. “Never?” 

“Not never,” she clarified. “Maybe once or twice. But never with someone I actually…” 

The air grew tense, like a wave about to hit. Percy spoke, hushed, like they were in a temple, instead of his bed. “Someone you actually…?” 

Swallowing again, she flicked her eyes back up to him. He was still, like a shark, poised and ready to strike. In the dim light, he looked even more handsome, his black hair thrown into disarray by her fingers, his lips swollen and kiss-bruised, his thumb gently stroking against her palm. 

“Someone I actually like,” she finished, barely more than a puff of hair. 

His eyes fluttered closed, and he bent over, laying his head on her stomach. “You don’t even know,” he said into her skin, voice strained almost to breaking. “You don’t even know what you do to me, do you?” 

Before she could even begin to parse what he had just said, he returned to his earlier task of learning her body with his mouth, but with a renewed vigor. Or maybe a new frenzy would be a better way to put it. He held her hips firmly with his hands, shoving them down every time she so much as twitched as he attacked her cunt with lips, teeth, and tongue, feasting on her like she was his last meal. Overcome by this sudden onslaught, she could do little more than hang on for dear life, fisting her hands in his sheets, and soon, she found herself racing perilously close to the edge again. 

“Per–” she gasped as he sucked on her, “Percy, I–” 

But he would not be stopped. Fastening his lips to her labia, he lavished stroke upon stroke upon her, his nose bumping up against her clit in a way that made stars burst in her eyes, and then, all of a sudden, she had tipped over the cliff. 

The cabins were supposed to be pretty soundproofed, but there was no way the whole camp didn’t just hear her scream like that. Hopefully they thought it was just a harpy or something. 

Panting, almost dizzy, she lay there, attempting to gather her bearings, while Percy kissed his way back up her body, stopping at every waymark he had left on her skin, each bite and nip and freckle, pulling her down from the heavens until she fell back into her body, trembling from the force of her orgasm. There was something in her ear, and it took her a few extra seconds to put together that Percy was speaking to her. 

“You’re so amazing, so beautiful, so hot,” he babbled, kissing up and down her neck, “you are the most amazing woman, I can’t believe I finally get to have this, gods, Annabeth–” 

Turning her head with only a little difficulty, she cut him off, her lips apparently proving too tempting for him to not kiss. 

She couldn’t stand hearing those words coming out of his mouth. Not from someone who, in just a month, would in all likelihood be–

His knuckles brushed over her sensitive clit, and she jumped, about to refuse, because she simply could not handle a third mind-bending fingering tonight, but he just grunted in apology. Instead of his hands, then, she felt the soft, smooth tip of his cock, bumping up against her opening. She shivered, breath stuttering in her chest. “Please,” she mumbled, “please, please, please–” 

He slipped in, a smooth, agonizing motion, which sent her eyes rolling into the back of her head. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, fingers digging into the skin, and it took her a moment to realize that the high, keening sound she heard was coming from her. 

His arms pulled her in even tighter, and with a sigh, he began to move. 

Annabeth had had sex before. Both times before had been lackluster, uninspiring events, where the guy had clearly learned all of his techniques from porn, jackhammering away at her vagina without really knowing what he was doing. She figured being with Percy, with his long and storied history, would probably make for a much more notable experience. But she was completely unprepared for just how much better it could be. 

He rocked her like the tide, a slow, steady, insistent movement which set her nerves sparking from top to bottom. Pleasure lapped at her from every side, washing over her in waves, while Percy’s body kept her anchored, one hand against her back, the other curling about her neck. She could feel as he dug his knees into the mattress, could feel the corded muscles in his thighs as he moved in her, traced the shifting muscles of his back with her fingertips, and she couldn’t help but let out a long, broken moan. “Percy,” she gasped, “I–I–oh–” 

He didn’t respond, only kissed the corner of her lips, open-mouthed and sloppy. Then he pulled away, and she almost whined at the loss of contact. 

“So, how is it?” He asked her, with barely more than a puff of air. 

“What?” She had no idea what he could mean. Why was he asking her questions at a time like this, if the answer was anything other than “more”?

He grinned. “Having sex with someone you actually like?”

She rolled her eyes. Or she would have, if he hadn’t given her a particularly satisfying thrust that made her legs twitch. It was hard to think straight, because, really, it was amazing, but she shot back anyway, “How is it having sex with someone actually human?”

“I told you,” he said, and his grin dropped, just a little, “you are so much better than a thousand naiads together could hope to be.” He let out a breath, and then grasped her torso, and with a force she definitely knew he had but hadn’t seen outside of the training grounds, rolled them over, leaving her on top. A position she’d never tried before. “And now,” he said, twirling a curl around his finger, “I want to see it from a different angle.”

Momentarily, she was overcome by the sudden shift in sensation. Under him, it hadn’t been bad, of course, but compared to the fingering of a lifetime, it hadn’t quite measured up as of yet. Now, she needed a second to get used to the feeling of him inside of her all over again. From this vantage point, he seemed bigger somehow, filling her every nook and cranny, the intensity crashing on her like a wave. 

Below her, he smirked, somehow reading her mind. “Good?”

Well, if he wanted to be like that, fine. She could wipe that stupid grin off his face. 

Her own face was bright red, she was sure, but she was determined not to lose this rematch. What was the point of core workouts and leg days anyways if she never put them to some use?

Gritting her teeth, she tightened her legs around him, pleased at the stutter in his breath. She rose up, hissing at the slick slide of his cock inside her, the drag of sparks which shot up through her spine, and her fingers trembled on his shoulders as she lowered herself back down. Then she did it again. And again. And again. Beneath her, Percy’s chest moved with the controlled force of his breath, his hands flexing on her hips. Biting her lip, she shifted forward an inch–and cried out as the new angle made it so he pressed up against a spot which made her eyes cross.

“Oh, gods,” he groaned, head thrown back. “Oh, fuck–Annabeth, gods.” 

She liked that. She liked that very much. 

And this, she thought as she began to ride him. She liked this very much, too. 

Over and over, she struck down on that spot inside her, and eventually, she couldn’t stay silent. Each thrust down startled a moan out of her, climbing higher and higher until you could practically keep time with it. Percy writhed below her, panting, his stomach flexing rhythmically, until he could no longer stand it and surged up, crushing her to his chest, and set about to fucking her. 

His cock stabbed up into her at the same, torturous pace, making her see stars, her moans swallowed up by the press of his mouth on hers. She could feel the muscles of his strong arms bulging, burning like brands across her back. Tearing his lips away, he kissed a meandering path to her ear, and asked, mumbling, “Is this–unh–is this good? Is this what you wanted?” 

“Yes,” she gasped, jolting as he nibbled on her earlobe. “Yes, Percy!” 

“Tell me.”

“Fuck, it’s so good–ah…” 

“Tell me you want me–please.” He kissed her jaw, slurring the word into her skin, the movement of his hips sloppier and sloppier.

There was no cockiness in his tone, no jokes. No self-satisfied smugness. Only desperation. A desperation to please her. 

“I–want–Percy–touch me–”

And like a seasoned sailor navigating the stars, his fingers found her clit–and she was done. 

Boneless, she flopped in his arms, her arms around his neck the only thing keeping her from toppling off him as he chased the last of his pleasure within her. With a broken, wrecked noise, he squeezed her impossibly tighter, his hips stuttering beneath her as he buried his face into her shoulder, gasping for air. He shook, his body seizing around her and in her, and she couldn’t help but echo his cry at it, the current of feeling dragging her back down into the depths. Submerged in it, surrounded by it, she clutched at his shoulders, riding the last lingering shockwaves of electric pleasure that skittered through her body. 

Slowly, agonizingly, he relaxed around her, a gradual release of pressure. But he didn’t release her, falling back instead with her still in his arms. 

“Damn.” She felt him more than heard him, a soft sigh which vibrated under his sternum and into her. “Damn.” 

She grunted in agreement. 

Time slipped away as she lay there, sprawled out on the bed of his body, resting her head on his chest, keeping the minutes only by the furious pounding of his heart against her ear as it slowed down, as they both came down from the skies together. Apparently unable to keep his hands off her even after sex, he twirled her hair around his finger, the gentle tug keeping her grounded. It could have been hours until she managed to scrape together the energy to raise her head to look at him. He was looking at her, a soft, shiny glow behind his eyes. “That was nice,” she said, hoarse. 

The corner of his lips quirked up. “Oh yeah? We should do this again sometime.” 

Laughter bubbled up out of her, and he followed suit, the movement jostling her body. “Ugh,” she winced, gently pulling off of him. “I’m going to feel that in the morning.” 

“In a good way or a bad way?” 

She flopped down beside him, sending him a grin. “I’ll let you decide.” 

“Come back,” he pouted. “I want to cuddle.” 

“Never would have pegged you for a cuddler.” She shifted into him with little hesitation, humming as his hands took up residence in her hair again. “Doesn’t that kind of ruin your heartbreaker reputation?” 

“I love cuddling.” He brushed his knee up against hers, sliding his arm beneath her head. “And I don’t get to nearly as often as I would like.” 

“Naiads aren’t big on post-coital snuggles?” The thought made her inexplicably happy. 

“Imagine trying to cuddle a person-shaped jellyfish.” 

She frowned. “Wriggly? Squishy?” 

“Hard to hold. The sea doesn’t like to be restrained, you know.” 

“Or the lake, in this case.” 

He huffed a laugh. “I guess.” 

She could have responded, but there wasn’t much she could say that wasn’t horribly rude to the water spirits, so she let them fall into companionable silence instead. And it was companionable. Percy gently carded his fingers through her hair, and she drew aimless patterns on his chest with her finger, lines and angles which slowly formed themselves into letters: alpha, nu, alpha, beta, epsilon–

Percy stilled beneath her. “Oh, shit.” 

“What? What is it?” 

He sat bolt upright, staring down at her. “You don’t…” he swallowed, color rising to his face. “You don’t happen to be on birth control, do you?” 

“...Excuse me?” 

Groaning, he fell back, hands over his face. “We didn’t use any protection.”

“...Oh, shit.” You know, she did feel damper than usual down there. 

Without thinking, she snaked a hand down, swiping a finger through herself, and brought it back up, observing. 

Yup. That was definitely semen. 

Well. 

She was pretty sure Will had some Plan B squirreled away somewhere in their stores. 

Suddenly, she was very aware of Percy looking at her. 

Studiously ignoring his gaze, she popped her finger in her mouth, licking it clean, and he made a noise like he had been stabbed. 

“Di immortales,” he wheezed. “You’re trying to kill me.” 

Pleasure stirred in her, purring like a cat, but she decided to ignore it. For now. “So, are you always this lax with protection with the naiads, too? Are we going to see an influx of little Percys in nine months?” 

“There better not be.” 

“Would a condom even work with a naiad?” she wondered aloud, more to herself than anything, but Percy shook his head. 

“It wouldn’t. But there won’t be any mini-mes running around.” 

“How do you know?” 

He gulped, audibly. “I, uh… I made them swear not to have my children.” 

Raising an eyebrow, she shot him a look. “You made them promise? Really?” Like that would do anything. Nature spirits were flighty and impulsive by nature. So kind of like demigods, really. 

“No, I mean…” His gaze turned up, suddenly very interested in the wooden ceiling beams. “I made them swear on the Styx.” 

“...Oh.” 

“Yeah. I didn’t–I didn’t want…” He trailed off. Annabeth’s mind rushed to fill in the blanks. The responsibility? The burden? The hope? “I didn’t want to leave someone behind. Who didn’t know their father.”

Annabeth couldn’t respond. Her heartbeats ticked by like seconds, counting down to his birthday. 

He coughed. “Um, yeah.” 

“Yeah.” 

“And–and also, I wouldn’t want them to use any potential kid of mine as a bargaining chip, either. You would not believe how complex undersea politics can get.”

A bargaining chip? “For what?”

He shrugged. “Power. Bragging rights. Marriage.”

Her brain short-circuited. “Is… that something you want?”

He looked at her for several long moments. “Not with a Naiad from the camp lake who settled for Poseidon’s son when she would rather fuck Poseidon instead.” He looked at her. And somehow there was more to it than when he had been inside her. “But I’m not opposed. To the concept of marriage. In general.”

She couldn’t–she couldn’t think about that. “Well, clearly that’s not what I’m here for.”

He raised a dark eyebrow, the edges of his devil-may-care smirk pulling on his lips. “Oh?”

“Come on,” she said, lightly shoving him. “You think I’d be interested in marrying you?” 

The words dropped between them, as heavy as a stone in water. 

She cleared her throat. “I mean, I didn’t fuck you to have your baby, either.” 

“Uh huh.” 

“I mean, I don’t want to fuck or marry your dad!”

“I think your mom would disown you if you did.” 

“Stop being a seaweed brain,” she said, “I’m trying to say something nice.”

“By all means.” He was smirking again. Right this second, maybe it wasn’t annoying, maybe it made him look roguish and handsome.

“I like you. And not because you're the son of Poseidon. But because you’re Percy Jackson.”

It was true that the power he held, the strength and skill, flowed from the same source as his father. But it wasn’t Percy’s ability to control the waves that enchanted her. It was that he had that power, and he used it. But he also helped little twelve year old campers with sword stances, and made messy evil eye charms in the arts and crafts tent to give to homesick kids. He could be both.

And that gentleness, that caring nature, was not something she saw reflected in Poseidon.

“Oh.” He said again, but he looked a little less cocksure, “So… what…”

“I mean… It's not like all that power isn’t hot. But lots of people have power. You know when to use it,” she said. “And when to be kind. Or take a step back.” Or let her have her say. Let her offer her opinion, and then take it into consideration. It was so much hotter than just having strength.

He grinned, slanted and shit-eating, even if it was a little shaky. “Hotter, really?”

Fuck, she hadn’t meant to say that part out loud.

“Really,” she said, trying to keep the embarrassment off her face. At this point, it was probably already too late, though.

Apparently satisfied, he let the topic drop, sparing her the humiliation of explaining herself further. “Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty tired, and it’s getting pretty late…” He trailed off, meaningfully.

Oh. Well. She supposed that was her cue. Sitting up, she swung her legs over the side, only for Percy to reach out and grab her hand. 

“Where are you going?” 

“To my cabin? You just said it was late–”

“I was trying to imply that you should stay. Here.” He turned those eyes on her, brimming with equal amounts hope and apprehension. “With me.” 

Oh. That was… “That’s against the rules,” she said, carefully. Guarded. Gauging.

“...Yeah.” His shoulders slumped almost imperceptibly. “Yeah, I guess it is.” 

Still. “...Maybe we could… meet up tomorrow? I mean,” she forced a laugh, “I still owe you a blowjob, right?” 

For a long, drawn out moment, he didn’t answer her, only rubbing his thumb against the side of her palm. And then, softly, muted, like he was speaking underwater, he said, “Right. Yeah. We can–we can meet up tomorrow.” 

He didn’t sound very confident. But he let her go all the same.

In short order, she had slipped into the bathroom, quickly re-dressing herself, and now lingered at the door to his cabin, wondering how best to say goodbye. It seemed as though he hadn’t moved at all, still lounging nude on his sheets, his perfect bronzed form exposed to the open air, arms drawn up and behind his head, his brooding gaze fixed firmly somewhere above him. “Well,” she said, entirely out of words. “Good night.” 

“Night.” 

She waited a heartbeat more, then slipped out the door, shutting it quietly behind her. 

They’d see each other tomorrow. They’d both agreed to it. 

If she had her way, they’d see each other every day for the rest of their lives. But they didn’t have the rest of their lives. She only had until the end of the war. Only the rest of his life.

Eyes suddenly hot, she swiped at them furiously, and began making her way back to her cabin. 

Tomorrow, then. She’d make tomorrow count. 

…And she would make sure to stop by the infirmary tomorrow morning, too.

[straykidsnerd255]

Hello! I know you just did a narumi fic but I want to request another one, can you do a gen narumi x reader where the reader is also from the defense force and goes on a lot of missions, they get nightmares a lot because of the missions and gen practically begs them each day to just stop going on missions and that even if he is the only one working he makes buckets of money and the reader should just relax. The reader still refuses and goes a very tough mission. Where they get severely injured and are unconscious for days and when they wake up Gen is so protective that he does not even let them do simple chores. Can it be gn or female reader. Take care and have a great day!!

Of course, I can do another one! Sorry this came out so late, I just haven’t been feeling up to writing for a while but I hope this makes up for it!!

You woke with a gasp. The sweat falling down your forehead is evidence that you had another nightmare. You managed to calm your breathing down just enough to allow you to relax. You wiped the sweat from your forehead before lying back down. Closing your eyes, you willed yourself to dream about the good things. The happiness that you have felt in your life. You finally drifted off to sleep. Your mind is blank as you try to forget everything that the nightmare before had left behind. 

Waking the next morning, you were immediately given a task. You bow to the superior and leave the room. Narumi, your boyfriend, and top fighter leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. “You know dove, I can perfectly support the two of us. You don’t have to do this anymore. I would much rather you be home, not having nightmares after every fight you have been in. It hurts whenever I hear you wake in the middle of the night screaming because of a nightmare.” He said, pushing himself off the wall. 

You sigh before lacing your fingers with his as you both walk down the hallway. “I know, but I want to do this. I want to fight kaiju and protect everyone. I know it's giving me nightmares every night but that's a price I am willing to pay. I just want people to live a happy and peaceful life.” You whispered, looking down at your intertwined fingers. Narumi knew that you would fight him on this but he kept trying. 

You simply shook your head when he begged you to stay home after learning of the mission you were to go on. He could see the determination in your eyes and it wrecked him to know that you had made up your mind. “I’m going on this mission Narumi. I have too. I don’t want to see any more people die because of these things.” You said, leaning forward and pressing your lips to his. He felt his lip tremble as he returned the kiss. He knew you were going to leave. You are such a stubborn girl. But you are his girl. You smiled at him before squeezing his hands and leaving with the rest of your team. He simply watched as you left, talking and laughing with your group as if you didn’t have a nightmare that woke you so close to morning. Turning around, he headed to his office/game room to hopefully take his mind off your mission. 

{A few hours later}

Narumi grumbled as he threw off the headphones he was wearing and threw open his door. He was angry. The yelling and panicking he could hear in the hallway made him lose the game he had been trying to win for the last three hours. “What the hell is going on?!” He yelled. One of the people passing by stopped. The person had a grim look on his face. “Well?” Narumi spat. “Y/n’s team returned. The mission was successful, but she is unconscious. Has been since the end of the mission.”  Narumi dropped the remote that was in his hand and ran towards the medical ward. 

‘Please be ok.’ he thought as he ran towards your room. He threw open the door and found you hooked to all kinds of wires and tubes. He could see the blood that dried on your skin and it made him sick. He carefully walked over to your bed, grabbed the chair, and moved it closer so he could sit by your side. You lay there, your chest rising and falling as you slept. “I couldn’t protect you.” He whispered. Hours turned into days and days turned into weeks before he knew it, two months had passed before you opened your eyes. 

Narumi refused to let you do anything in the house after that day. He cleaned the house, cooked dinner, washed the dishes, did laundry, and made sure that you were comfortable. When watching a movie one night, you felt Narumi’s fingers tracing small patterns on your arm and you lay against him. You smiled softly before sighing blissfully. “How are you feeling dove?” Narumi asked, shifting slightly to get comfortable before wrapping his arms around you. You smiled and snuggled closer to his chest. “Much better. I think I’ll stay home from now on though.” You said, a yawn falling from your lips as you grew tired. Narumi smiled and picked you up, taking you to your shared bed, and lying you down before lying down himself. “Get some rest. You deserve it.” He whispered. 

You smiled before sleep took hold and you immediately fell asleep. Soft breathing filled the air and Narumi felt relief now that you were back safe and sound in your home. He couldn’t imagine a world where you were not in it. “I love you so much.” He whispered before closing his eyes and falling asleep with you. Narumi was determined to kill every last kaiju and give you a perfect and normal life. 

[neophytepagan]

25 for caecade?

25. one to five tropes they embody or could pull off in an AU.

mostly thinking of the canon verse and im giving more than five because i dont wanna cut down any

unrequited love/one sided - pretty self explanatory, caesar likes arcade and arcade despises him, making caecade one sided and more nonconny is fun sometimes but doesn't have that drama that i like in arcade's shameful attraction.

corruption - over time arcade slowly grows accustomed to caesar and living in his close proximity. he starts tolerating more than he probably should, growing numb to the tragedies around him until caesar pushes him to be a player in it rather than just a victim or a bystander, elevating him to a position of power. maybe arcade tries to do good, but he still becomes complicit by extension

caretaker/ing - emphasizing on the doctor/patient dynamic, despite caesar's atrocities seeing him vulnerable and weak still activates those parts of arcade's brain that makes him want to help and care for him. it makes caesar far more human, seeing him afraid, exhausted, in pain. arcade can't bring himself to deny him any treatment, tenderness, soft touches, words of encouragement

slow burn- arcade isn't breaking that easy, but caesar has all the time in the world to chisel away at his defenses. caesar doesnt even know arcade likes men at first, and feels somewhat ashamed of like, "forcing" that affection upon him. in caesars eyes arcade is the closest thing to an equal to him and after being lonely for... years. pushing away this new and wonderful thing because of his desires would be a shame. then he finds out arcades gay and he wont stop flirting with him

arranged marriage - is always fun especially with a side of political intrigue. this would mostly have to be in an au, but arcade being offered up in a political marriage after being found out as gay and refusing to wed a woman and continue to family line, so his parents will use him as a bargaining chip instead, throwing him at the slaving dictator. arcades afraid for his life and safety given the rumors about caesar... but caesar is so astonishingly different than what he'd expected that he's almost glad for the marriage so he can get away from the enclave

mutual pining - one of my favorite parts about this pairing is when arcade is pining for caesar and really isnt happy about it. he catches himself eyeing caesars body or feeling giddy and butterflies in his stomach over something sweet caesar says to him. its kind of a game. caesar seeing how openly affectionate he can be before arcade puts his boundaries up and gets angry and hides again. he gets to say some pet names but touching is too much... then after some time he gets to stroke arcades hair or caress his cheek but the second he leans in for a kiss arcade yells at him and pushes him away. one night arcade is the one who leans in and presses his lips to caesar, but the second he starts tugging at arcades clothes arcade says no and goes to sleep. progression like that. caesar daydreams abt arcade whenever he's not around him, gets him gifts, even blushes (caesar getting flustered is so good to me) when arcade flirts back

sharing a bed - a pretty cheesy trope but caesar only has one bed in his tent and it would be a fun way for him to try and get arcade to like him. hes being so nice offering his huge comfy bed to arcade. the soldiers have to sleep in sleeping bags on the floor. come on arcade... don't you see what an honor it is...

ruler/consort - i fold this in to like, everything i do with them. arcade always becomes something more than just a slave or a doctor. he becomes caesar's closest advisor, his sole confidant. he also becomes a little voice in his ear pushing him and manipulating to do things (for the good of the wasteland) and caesar lets him because he's both so head over heels and damn it's sexy when arcade is playing with him. arcade being officially recognized as caesar's consort or spouse... its so goodddd

[noodleblade]

KOBD discovering a mistletoe

I wrote like 12 different versions of this but I went with the sappiest option possible. ALSO HOW DO PEOPLE WRITE TINY SUB 500 WORD THINGS??? ITS IMPOSSIBLE!!

It was always hard to look at anything but Knock Out. 

From his sleek, flashy frame to his cutting smile, Breakdown found it difficult to keep his eyes off his partner. Even now, as sharp claws tapped along his chest, glowing red optics dim in the dark medbay, his smile softer than he would ever allow anyone but Breakdown to see- he was perfection. Breakdown didn’t want to look away, even if he had to.

However.

In the corner of his visual field, he couldn’t help but notice a deep red object hanging above their helms…

“Doc,” Breakdown murmured low, his voice rumbling across his chassis, “what’s that?” Breakdown gestured with his helm, nodding his chin upward toward the leaves? plant? flower?

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” Knock Out whispered, never taking his optics off Breakdown as he traced a digit along the curve of his jaw.

Usually, that’d be enough for Breakdown. If Knock Out wasn’t concerned, then neither would he. After all, it was Knock Out’s medbay and despite his reluctance to do his job on occasion, his partner always kept a clean workspace. Still, it was…difficult for Breakdown to ignore it, especially when Knock Out tilted his chin upward to drag his lips along his throat cables. The pleasurable heat of his partner’s affection was only able to distract Breakdown for a few seconds.

“So, is it like a plant or somethin’?”

Knock Out let out an exasperated sigh against Breakdown’s intake, pressing his face there. 

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“Oh,” Breakdown nodded, leaning back as Knock Out started again, moving his lips to the hollow of his throat, his glossa coming out to trace the seam where his intake melded to his chest plate- “Why?”

“Breakdown,” Knock Out huffed, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, “are you not enjoying the moment?”

“What? No! It’s great, you’re great,” Breakdown quickly reassured, pressing a kiss to Knock Out’s cheek. “I just…” his optics drifted back up to the organic plant…thing. Now that he was properly looking at it, he could see it wasn’t rooted into the wall like he’d seen the plants on Earth’s surface do. Instead, it was dangling by a short length of wire, lazily spinning right about their helms at the entry of the medbay. “...don’t get it.”

“There’s nothing to get,” Knock Out muttered but, curiously enough, a faint heat rolled across his partner’s plating. If Breakdown didn’t know Knock Out better, he’d assume it was nothing, but he could see the way the medic’s plating shifted in anxious little twitches and how his clawed digits flexed by his side. 

“Come on,” Breakdown said, speaking in the low, soft way he knew Knock Out was particularly fond of. “Spill. What’s the deal with it?”

Hesitancy crossed Knock Out’s field, tinged with a hint of reluctance and embarrassment. Breakdown reached to cup his partner’s helm, letting his thumb brush against the medic’s faceplates in a soft, gentle circle. 

“Its…an Earth tradition. I wanted to try it,” Knock Out finally said, his words slow and carefully picked as he looked anywhere but Breakdown’s face. “The fleshies hang them from doorways and whenever someone enters, you have to kiss them.”

Breakdown blinked, letting Knock Out’s words roll over him before he felt his optic ridges pinch together. “Why?”

“I don’t know why they do it!” Knock Out snapped defensively. Despite his words, the tone was more embarrassed than angry. Still, the speedster muttered a quiet, “Sorry” before ducking away. He attempted to move back but Breakdown circled his free arm around Knock Out’s waist, keeping his partner close. 

“Seems pointless,” Breakdown muttered, looking up at the plant. It was a pretty flower, though its red was nothing compared to Knock Out’s superior finish. “You can just ask me to kiss you.”

“That’s not the point,” Knock Out huffed, but he remained close to Breakdown, even leaning in to rest his head against Breakdown’s chest. “It’s supposed to be romantic.”

Breakdown snorted, taking the small swat Knock Out gave him as a consolation. “Sorry,” he said, unable to keep the smile out of his voice, “but humans are kind of dumb, tricking others for kisses.”

“Yeah,” Knock Out muttered, “it’s dumb.”

“Probably should move it,” Breakdown said. “What if someone else came in? Like ‘Screamer or even worse, Megatron. You’d have to kiss them.”

He didn’t even need to look down to know Knock Out was wrinkling his faceplates in distaste. 

“No thanks. I’ll just dump it down the waste disposal.”

Breakdown could…feel the disappointment in Knock Out’s field. Even if he didn’t quite understand the idea of a flower compelling people to kiss each other or why that was romantic, clearly Knock Out had liked it enough to try. 

“What if we hung it in our room?” Breakdown suggested. “That way I get to kiss you every time I come in.”

“You do that anyway,” Knock Out brushed off, but his field was warmer, a hint of a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah, but you gotta do it too.” Never mind the fact that Knock Out also already did that. At least his words made Knock Out grin.

“I guess if I have to,” Knock Out teased, rocking up to his toes to press a kiss to Breakdown’s chin. “It’ll be just for us.”

Breakdown was more than happy to meet him the rest of the way, flower or not.

[sorcerous-caress]

(Hope it’s cool if I drop my tav as a companion thing here also I don’t have many images of my tav so I didn’t put any)

Basic info

Sean Shanahan - Rogue - Urchin - Human - Chaotic Good

Where to recruit them

The slope to the left leading to the hollow at The Grove. 

As you go down to the hollow you see him burning something but he doesn’t tell you what it was brushing it off as nothing. If you press him about it he’ll get defensive and tell you that it’s none of your business.

He will comment on if Aradin or Zevlor got punched expressing approval for punched Aradin and disapproval for punched Zevlor.

When your tadpoles connect the visions you experience are ones where you feel hatred with visions of a burning building but it quickly fades to running on rooftops and through trees. 

When discovering that you are also infected he tries to join you but only hinting at it and not outright saying it, if this is called out he will deny it at first but then admit to it and ask outright. If you agree to let him join he will thank you for letting him accompany you. If your party is full he will instead thank you for your hospitality. 

Starting Equipment

He holds two daggers and a bow. 

His clothing is different from what my actual Tav wears in game, it being a green coat with a hood, a red scarf, and leather gloves. His camp clothes seem to be his normal clothes just without the coat, scarf, and gloves. 

His coat’s description reads: “how one makes their clothes look both raggedy and tailored is beyond you” and his camp clothes description reads: “Sean needs to broaden his wardrobe”

Camp

His camp doesn’t have much other than a pouch that if he sees you interacting with tell you not to touch which, if you’re sneaky, can take a red feather from and when brought to him he will promptly ask for it back. 

You can either give it back and persuade him to tell you what it is or promise to give it back when he tells you what it is without a check needed where he will explain that it belonged to his mother who had passed the year prior.

(Unrelated note you should’ve been able to interact with camps how can you give Karlach a teddy bear named Clive and give no lore on it)

Personality

He’s usually quiet and shys away from the others at camp (even though he wanted to join) but will not stay silent if he thinks you’re doing a wrong thing, wants to help someone, or wants to take someone down. I can imagine the other companions mentioning his shyness when recruited, saying he eats alone whenever they long rest although that does change as the story goes on.

Approval

He gains approval by doing good deeds like helping beggars and especially helping the tieflings but gains disapproval if you are racist to any of the races, including goblins, and if you screw over or are needlessly mean to innocent people.

Even though he’s against needless killing he will always suggest just murdering bad guys rather than doing elaborate things to stop them or fool them. If you say “we shouldn’t resort straight to murder” he’ll scoff saying that people like (insert bad guy that’s in the game here) don’t deserve life and you’ll gain disapproval.

Reactions

After the Act 1 Hag mission he will go on an angry rant about how stupid Mayrina was for ever considering Ethel’s deal before calming down and apologizing, saying that his personal feelings got the better of him but still believes that she was unwise to consider a hag’s deal.

If you side with the goblins he won’t leave like Karlach, Wyll, and Gale but he will attack you calling you a monster and exclaims that he either kills you or dies trying.

Companions

(Sorry didn’t include Halsin, Minsc, or Minthara)

Lae’zel: He surprisingly likes her. He can tell she’s nicer than most Gith given how she even considered making them pure. He does however feel bad for her knowing she’s a pawn of Vlaakith and will be incredibly happy when Lae’zel rebels against her. Their party chatter is mostly talking about fighting and when offered a sparring match he instantly declines saying he likes to keep his head on. He will also mention that he knows another Githyanki but won’t answer any other questions just to fuck with her.

Shadowheart: He respected her privacy due to also having secrets to his name. He knew who the Sharrans were but he still didn’t think of her any differently when she revealed her goddess because it didn’t change her actions. In chatter he will tell her that he also doesn’t know how to swim after she reveals it. He will also express that he is proud she defied Shar saying that not even a god can get away with ruining a person’s life.

Astarion: He’s pretty much an inverted Astarion. He didn’t much of him at first but as soon as he learned of Cazador he knew wanted to be there when Astarion killed him. When at Baldur’s Gate he’ll playfully tease him if he mentions the Upper City going “oooooh Upper Ciiiity” or asking “care to show me the most expensive houses up there?”

Gale: He was worried about Gale the whole time. Party chatter is just “hey Gale stop thinking about the crown please” “hey Gale remember that we don’t need the orb.” Got offended when Mystra told Gale to blow himself up saying that “we do just fine without the gods every other day why should they start helping now?”

Wyll: As soon as he found out Wyll was in a Devil contract he suggested to find any means to break it. If the contract is broken at the cost of Duke Ravenguard he will express that he feels sorry for Wyll but it was better him rather than Wyll.

Karlach: He’s in the same boat as Shadowheart when they first meet her. In party chatter he will bring up the tieflings he grew up with to her but none of them were like her.

Jaheria: In party chatter when Jaheria asks why he looks at her so strangely he will tell her how she reminds him a lot of his late mother and how similar they are.

Romance

It starts it act 1 when after a long rest he will approach you in the night nervously asking to sleep with you for the night explaining that he hasn’t been to sleep because he’s not used to sleeping alone. If you tease him about it he’ll get embarrassed but gain approval and if you accept he will at first say that he’ll just sleep on the ground next to the bedroll remarking that he’s slept on worse but if you persuade him to take the bed he will sleep next to you where you get the option to sleep next to him normally or to spoon him which will gain approval and also cause him to squirm slightly before resting. The next day you can offer to do that more for him which he will nervously say that he’d like that.

In the Act 2 intimate scene you can discover his ticklishness which you can take advantage of or not but he will approve if you do.

After you kiss him for the first time and mention that he didn’t really seem like he knew what he was doing he was will apologize and explain that he’s never been in a relationship before.

They are asexual, something they will explain as soon as the relationship is official but will say he still likes physical touch and will shyly suggest you do it more.

After you kiss him for the first time and mention that he didn’t really seem like he knew what he was doing he was will apologize and explain that he’s never been in a relationship before.

He approves of it when you tease him whether it be verbally or by touch.

There would probably be special dialogue if you are a tiefling given that he grew up with them.

I had fun reading this, I was so invested and didn't notic how much I read through until it ended.

He seems like a really lovely companion! I'm imagining all the interactions and how beloved by the fandom he would be. And honestly we need more ace representation so I'm glad you mentioned it.

I love the part about asking Astarion which houses are the most rich fosbfisjjfkaks it perfectly shows his chaotic good nature.

I wrote what my durge OC (Sol) would think of Sean, both as companions for fun!

-

They're taken back by his shyness at first whenever they made a snide remark or a rude comment, they're used to people telling them off, complaining or ignoring them.

It's like a new territory, being mean is like play to them, with sean not participating it just weirds them out so they give him his space during early game. Much like Halsin, they grow to distrust him, there is no way someone like him is actually this meek without hiding something.

But the more he starts showing his teeth during the acts, the more comfortable they start to feel around him, knowing he will stop them if they cross the line.

They're not sold on his whole good cause, they attempt to poke holes in his ideas that he is still stealing from others, but instead of guilt tripping him, they congratulate him for being just as bad and rotten as the rest of the group.

They don't believe someone can be good without doing any harm, that academic wizards who dream of utopia never thought of what it would take to actually achieve it, how many people will get hurt for their ideas of an ideal world.

In act 3 before their end, they confess that to Sean. That they are actually glad he withstood all of their attempts to get him down, that he knows real change requires breaking the rules and doing good is never the easy choice. That he knows what sins must be commited to help the people in need, to forcefully take the power from the top and redistribute it.

If asked about it by the player, they will pretend they never said that or change the subject, refusing to acknowledge the fact they had a heart to heart with another person.

If it's their bad ending, they will tell him that they still hold these believes, so they have to become insanely powerful so no one ever can steal that power from them. That they will burn down this world that wronged them and deemed them a danger, that they deserve this after all they went through. Greed overtakes them in this ending and they plan on hoarding as many riches, gold and gems to themselves, fully embracing their red dragon heritage and even imprisoning the people they love so they could never leave them, romanced Tav in this scenario.

If it's their good ending, without their magic, their greed completely disappears. Their envy dwindling slowly as they realise they don't want the traits that other people have, they can be their own person and they don't have to put down everyone around them to lift themselves up. They stand firm with what they told him, but this time hint at the idea of also being part of that change. They plan on returning to their hometown and not staying in Baldur's gate, and if he ever wants to visit, they'll have a list prepared for him with the locations of the most rich houses in the whole country.

-

Also if you don't mind, what are his good and bad endings? Romanced preferably but I'll also be happy with the non romanced. I'm really curious

Now actually I wanna even add more categories to the "Tav as companion" list.

I might do some of them for my own Tav/Durge later on, this is more fun than I expected.

What gives them inspiration points

Which person from their past shows up in the story and at which point

What are their dissmisal lines / party join lines

What're the questions you can ask them immediately after recruiting them

How do they react to their dream person

What's their stance on using the ilithid powers

How do they react to the different companions good and bad endings

What item can you give them to gain their approval? (Ex: necromancy book for Gale/Astarion, night Orchid, statue for Shadowheart)

Do they mention their home? Family?

Do they have a fight scene with a companion that you need to resolve?

How do they react to Raphael, Ketheric, Orin and Gortash?

Are they happy or sad that they got abducted?

Would they agree to the drow twins deal? Why yes and why not?

Do they have a unique feature/companion that you only get if you play their origin? (Ex: Tara with gale)

What's their reaction to Asterion being a vampire

Who rejects who when it comes with sharing in a poly? (Ex: Astarion is okay with sharing with Gale but Gale isn't and makes you choose)

What's their questline? Is it time sensitive? Which act is the most dire to their quest?

What's their reaction to the underdark? Do they prefer the surface

Do they fight Tav at any point in the story? (Ex: Laezel romance fight)

Do they urge Tav to seek out a cure immediately or are they happ tagging along exploring the world?

Do they have any useful "jobs" in the overworld combat/exploration? (Ex: Astarion being the dedicated lockopener, Shadowheart the dedicated healer)

How would they react to durge confession of having sick thoughts at early game vs late game when they realise who durge is.

Would you romance your OC as Tav?

How do you think the fandom, as it is right now, would react to them?

Who is the person they'd be the most shipped with? Npc? Companion? And why?

Who is the rival niche ship to that main ship?

What's the "drama" and discourse about them in the fandom that gets people arguing? (Ex: Astarion's manipulation of the player)

What's their voice like? Do you have a voice actor in mind? What's their manner of speech like?

Descripe their tent, where is it stationed?

If the player selected them in dialogue instead of Tav, which conversations would they have a unique dialogue option in?

(Spoilers for end game ahead) if you ask them about what to do during the Emperor Orphues choice, what would they say? Would they offer themselves?

[angstfactory]

The world felt off-axis, but in truth, the liquor weighed him down to an untimely lean that said Jesse was still inebriated, sobering moments or not. He couldn't quite get things into focus, couldn't quite stand up straight, and sure as shit couldn't quite help the dull throb that had begun at the temples as his sluggish brain tried to truly process everything happening in that moment. I wish I had another glass, these thoughts came to him, wantonly. Better yet, the whole damn bottle! Anything that would help push him over the ledge of bumbling idiot to blackout drunk. So that there was an excuse for him to sweep all of this under the rug, pack it away in the corner like he did most shit he couldn't handle.

As he watched the other cowering on the pavement, openly weeping and begging him to stop, Jesse found difficulty in trying to swallow around the giant lump in his throat. The sight upset him greatly, made him disgusted with himself. It had definitely doused that angry upset immediately. None of this was what he wanted — he hadn't meant to frighten them, to add to whatever trauma had occurred tonight. Yet there he was, his father's son in full glory: drunk, sloppy, and yelling. This trembling Felix was a physical representation of how he'd felt on the inside, whenever that man ambled home at whatever hour, and took the displeasure of having to come home at all out on everyone else who got in the way. The instinct was there; to rush forward with apologies on his lips, to dab away those tears, to soothe them.

He wanted to. He knew he should. But instead, Jesse only balled his hands into fists and averted those hazel hues just enough so he wasn't quite seeing Felix shaking and sobbing on the ground. As much as this desire burned inside, that self-preservation mode kicked into overdrive and turned his feet anvils. Because with the way his behavior had already upset Felix and the man's already battered, bruised state, Jesse wouldn't be able to stomach having him flinch away from his touch. Call him selfish, call him a coward. He just couldn't take that leap of faith to expose himself entirely, and leave himself unguarded and vulnerable to even the possibility Felix might shake him off.

"I do." His incredulity had lessened; Jesse sounded more numb at this point, as if some unseen part had patched the holes of a sinking ship before it could be taken down. Felix may not know why he confessed these things now, but Jesse did. And that, in fact, was the real reason he was upset and angry and defensive. It wasn't anything to do with them being a witch. Did the magic startle him? Yes. Was it hard to believe? Yes. But it had always been there, the signs, that the rancher had purposely chosen to ignore. The fact he wasn't jumping to try and explain this all away as something else, that he hadn't simply called bullshit and walked off, was evident enough that Jesse had known. Maybe not exactly, but he had known. No, his knee-jerk response came from the fact Felix had confessed it at all, because Jesse understood it immediately to mean things were over.

Between them, their stuff. Whatever they had wanted to call it and despite the fact it'd been years ago already, with Felix even having gone through a whole fiancée in the time since... They only told him now because there was nothing left there between them to lose. And the damnedest part of all, was that he hadn't known how much that'd bother him.

Crazy, right? They'd moved on with someone else and Jesse hadn't bat an eye because he had taken for granted that their chapter hadn't closed.

Jesse's head lifted, as Felix spoke again — this time, it was about the attacker. He grasped onto this lifeline so he could pull himself out of these turbulent waters where he didn't know how to swim. "Who was she?" he pressed, because that was the most important. "What'd she look like?" Again, he forced himself to remain still as Felix struggled to their feet, hating that they looked to be in so much pain. Though Jesse could hardly help the sudden step or two forward once the other lifted his sweater enough to display the bruised midriff. "Christ," the curse was said under breath, and he was unaware his face betrayed his concern. "And you are?" Jesse's eyes lifted to Felix's. There'd been a moment before, when they first mentioned 'bad witches' — well, it'd be a lie to say Jesse hadn't wondered if the guy had been referring to himself that way.

"Excuse me?" Now, he did come forward as soon as Felix had turned away, because it was safer to do so when they weren't watching him care. "How 'bout you fuck off with that!" Jesse didn't need anyone's permission to stay or go, and he certainly wouldn't when they were in this condition. He wasn't sure how to help him, but he would. "I'm not just gonna leave you in the fuckin' street like this, 'Lix," he stopped at the other man's back. "If you won't go be seen, then where will you go? Just tell me what you need."

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Felix flinched like he’d been slapped when Jesse yelled. The sound hit him in the chest like a blunt weapon, knocking the air out of him in a breathless hitch. His whole body folded tighter, folding in on itself like he could make himself small enough to disappear. He shrank against the pavement, the cold biting through his jeans, the bruises starting to throb in time with his heartbeat. Jesse’s hat stayed pressed to his chest, crumpled in his arms like a shield made of cloth and memory. He gripped it tighter like it might stop the rising panic skittering up his spine.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “J-Jesse, stop,” he whined, lifting his eyes toward the other, glassy and wide. In the yellow streetlight, they looked strange - too bright, too shadowed, not right. He wasn’t even bothering to wipe the tears away anymore. They spilled over fast, messy and hot, soaking into his cheeks, his jaw, his sweater. He didn’t care. He couldn’t.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ And when Jesse finally turned back to him, arms flung out, voice breaking with something that sounded like betrayal, Felix looked away, shame flaring hot across his face. His head bowed low, like a guilty dog expecting to be kicked. Is this how I make people feel? The thought stung. Jackie had reacted the same way. But they’d been engaged. Years, they’d spent building a life, and still the truth had shattered it. At least I’m consistent, he thought bitterly. Ruin everything. Tell the people you care about that you’re a Witch after six years and watch them run!

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “I don’t know!” Felix choked out suddenly, voice cracking like ice underfoot. It came out loud, sharp, a splintered thing too fragile to last. He squeezed Jesse’s hat in his hands for a moment, as if searching it for comfort, then threw it, not angrily, just desperately, back to the man across from him. It hit the pavement near Jesse’s feet. Felix watched it land and hated himself for letting go of it. I hate this. I hate being different. I hate being a Witch.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ His hands tangled in his hair like claws, nails biting into his scalp as he collapsed back onto the pavement, breath tearing out of his lungs in uneven gasps. “I don’t want this…” he whispered, so quiet he wasn’t sure the words even left his mouth. They were for the night, for the cracks in the sidewalk. For himself. You think I haven’t spent my whole goddamn life trying to figure out how to be normal enough for people to stay? You sure as hell didn’t want to, Jesse.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ The anger flared hot in his veins for a moment, quick and sharp, but it fizzled fast. Burnt out by something bigger. Because beneath all that rage was fear. And pain. His chest ached, a pulsing, electric throb that radiated outward in waves, and as the adrenaline bled away, it left behind a body that was hurting all over.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ He blinked rapidly, the tears coming fresh again. “The woman,” he whispered, voice hoarse and childlike. “The woman who attacked me.” He winced, trying to remember the sound of her voice, the way the street had bent around her like it hated her too. “She said…” He swallowed, jaw trembling. “She said something. That I’m worth something. I think. I don’t know. It didn’t feel like a good thing.”

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ Felix’s face scrunched, and he pushed himself upright with a grunt of effort, groaning as pain lanced through his midsection. He bit down hard on his lip to keep from making too much noise, lifting the hem of his sweater slowly. Bruises were already blooming across his ribs and stomach, dark and ugly like something rotten just beneath the surface.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “She wasn’t a good Witch, Jesse,” he said again, quieter this time. A statement, not a warning. A memory. His body sagged as he turned away, and he curled his arms around himself. His breath was shallow and fast. The spinning in his head was back, worse now that his body was realizing just how hurt it really was.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ “You can go, Jesse,” he whispered, barely audible. “It’s okay. You should. I’m sorry.” He bowed his head lower, trembling, clutching his sleeves. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want this to be your problem. Just… don’t tell anyone. Please. Not about me. Not like this.” He sat there in the dim streetlight, feeling his heart break again like it had 6 months ago, 6 years ago. 

[randxmthxughts]

Captain Save a Hoe - Tsu'tey x Avatar!Reader

i know, i know, the title...

summary: grumpy tsu’tey having to take care of a clumsy avatar!reader, and eventually warming up to her // tsu'tey being a captain-save-a-hoe for 1.7k words straight

wc: 1.7k

a/n: basically, i didn't know where to go with this, so i'm posting it like a blurb bc you guys told me to. there won't be a continuation to this, i just love grumpy tsu'tey, he's so hot

masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Watch your feet,” Tsu’tey throws an angry glance at you, as you stumble through the thick bushes, trying to catch up to him.

Tsu’tey didn’t like dreamwalkers, hell, he almost killed one a few years back, if he hadn’t been stopped. But Tsu’tey especially didn’t like the ones that were awkward and weak in their disguised bodies, asking stupid questions, and constantly getting themselves into trouble. So of course, he was angry when Jake ordered him to keep an eye on you.

“Tsu’tey,” you breathe out, “Please wait for me.”

Despite the strength that your new body possesses, you struggle to keep up with Tsu’tey, feeling like a helpless child in comparison. He walks fast, treating this like another mission that he desperately wants to get over with. Tsu’tey doesn’t really care that Jake welcomed you into the clan for the help you offered. Or that the maps you've made could save the Omaticaya from future attacks by the sky people. What are a few more attacks on him? Tsu’tey relished in destroying the massive flying ships, he could go against them without your help any day. 

From the moment you embarked on your journey to the science facility to retrieve some of your equipment, it seemed like Tsu’tey’s luck had run out. As if for some reason Eywa had cursed him, making his journey with you longer and tiresome.

At first, he resented the idea of sharing his direhorse with you, since you hadn’t learned how to ride one yet. He also hated how you would cling to his middle, whenever he sped up, and restricted his movements. If only you had kept quiet, he could have tolerated you more, but instead, you occasionally tried to pry into his past.

“So, why don’t you have a mate?”

“She was killed by one of your demons.”

“Oh.”

Two hours in, Tsu’tey decided to stop by the river to give his horse a short break. As you crouched down by the water, examining the way it bubbled, Tsu’tey observed you in silence. He thought you were strange-looking, but not like Jake. To him, Jake was ugly. You had something intriguing about your appearance. Pretty, although Tsu’tey had a hard time getting used to it. But the compliment he wanted to grant you was immediately pushed to the back of his mind when he heard your frightened scream. You noticed an arachnoid crawling up your thigh and shrieked out of fear, violently shaking your leg to get it off. Spooked by your sudden outburst, the horse loudly neighed and fled through the air. Tsu’tey quickly jumped to his feet, but when he saw the reason for your shrieks, he felt his blood boil. In your defense, you had heard stories of poisonous arachnids of Pandora and you weren’t taking any chances.

So here you are, trudging along behind, with ears pressed flat against your skull. Tsu’tey had scolded you, blaming your weak spirit for the consequences. Since you were too far from the Hometree, and the horse was long gone, you had to continue the rest of the journey on foot. Which meant more hours spent with you. 

The silence that follows is almost unbearable, broken only by the sound of your footsteps and the occasional rustling of leaves. What Tsu’tey did not expect was for you to be so slow. He almost gave up on the plan, contemplating going back to the village and fetching another horse. He even entertained the thought of taming a palulukan in case of an attack. In the worst case, he'd end up dead and wouldn’t be forced to care for you for another minute.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As the day wears on, and the sun starts to set, casting a warm orange glow on the surroundings, you decide to voice your concern.

“Do you think we’ll make it to the facility by night?”

Tsu’tey throws a glance at you over his shoulder, letting out a bitter chuckle. You grimace at his reaction. 

“Got it,” you bite your lip.

He comes to a stop, and begins scanning the area around him. You wait for further clarification but he ignores you completely, then starts gathering twigs into a small cone.

“We will camp for the night,” he finally says, gesturing at you, “Gather some more, and stay here. I will be back soon.”

You discover that ‘soon’ meant different things to you and Tsu’tey. While you assumed he would be out hunting, the chilly air made you decide to start the fire and keep an eye on it, so it doesn’t die out. You hadn’t realized how tired you were, the warmth radiating from the small fire was making your eyelids droopy. You tried to resist sleep to prove to Tsu’tey that you were capable, but you couldn't hold out much longer, nestling on the ground.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Tsu’tey nudges you awake with a gentle touch, and you catch a whiff of a delicious aroma. As you open your eyes, you see him crouching in front of you, holding a piece of meat wrapped in leaves. Your mouth waters at the sight, and you eagerly take it from his hands and devour it. Tsu’tey can't help but chuckle, as he watches the satisfied grin spread across your face.

“Slow down,” he says softly, motioning for you to take a seat next to him, closer to the fire.

You watch him roast a smaller piece of meat and put it in his mouth. Instead of savoring the taste, Tsu’tey chews on it while continuing cutting up more pieces. You feel a little guilty that he prepares food for the both of you but doesn’t take a moment to enjoy it.

“Can I help?” you ask, moving closer to him.

He doesn’t answer, instead pointing to the knife on your belt. When you take it out, Tsu’tey pierces a piece of meat on the sharp tip, and motions for you to hold it over the fire. You follow his orders, watching the meat slowly cook as the aroma hits your nostrils and your stomach grumbles. 

This must be the first time he sees you do something right. Tsu’tey nods approvingly as he watches you carefully turn the meat over the fire, your knife skillful in your hands. A comfortable silence hangs over you, as you both start eating.

“We will continue our journey early in the morning,” he breaks the silence, “We must move quickly and return back as fast as we can. ‘Don’t want to camp out in the forest for another night, it can be dangerous.”

You only nod, agreeing with his plan. It was rare for him to keep you informed anyway, so you weren’t going to doubt Tsu’tey.

“You don’t trust that I can help, do you?”

“I am not sure,” he admits, “But if Toruk Makto trusts you, I can give you a chance to prove yourself.”

“Your prejudice against me is ironic,” you scoff, “Jake was just like me once, before becoming Toruk Makto.”

“Not just like you,” Tsu’tey chuckles, shaking his head, “You are too weak.”

“I am smart,” you argue. 

Tsu’tey hums in agreement. There is some truth to his words, you have shown weakness. Adapting to a completely new environment, getting used to another culture, suddenly being forced into hours of physical activity that you weren’t committed to. At times, it would get too much but the support of the clan was all the validation you needed to stay.

“I know you don’t believe me, but I’ll do anything to help your people,” you face him with new confidence, he hasn’t seen in you yet.

“You betray your own?” Tsu’tey frowns.

“I have no other choice. They are destroying everything because of greed,” you shake your head in disappointment. He nods.

“And your family? You left them too?”

“I don’t have one,” a bitter chuckle escapes from your lips, “They don’t claim me anymore. And I don’t claim them.”

“So they disowned you?”

“Pretty much,” you shrug, “They think that I am betraying them because I want to protect the life on Pandora.”

“It must take great strength to go against your family,” Tsu’tey compliments you.

You shy away from his softened gaze, warm feeling spreading in your chest from the kind words. It was tough to be one of the engineers who worked for RDA and had to betray them. But you couldn’t stand the idea of contributing to the destruction they were causing. It was why you first found Jake and warned him about the impending danger. And it was then when you first felt welcomed by the clan, cared for.

Now, you needed to sneak back into the facility and retrieve the equipment you left to track the future attacks. Tsu’tey was assigned to accompany you since it was dangerous to go alone. Even though most of the team at the facility shared similar opinions and wouldn't stop you, there was still a risk of encountering RDA guards. Getting caught would mean you could never return.

As the night wears on and the fire grows smaller and smaller, you and Tsu’tey continue to talk. You’re surprised by how he opens up to you, and how he doesn’t protest when you tell him about your past. Eventually, you feel your eyes growing heavy and your head nodding off to the side. Tsu’tey notices and stays up to keep an eye on you, making sure you’re safe while you sleep.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When you wake up in the morning, you feel slightly restricted around your middle. You huff slightly, trying to move, as you realize that Tsu’tey is sleeping beside you, with his leg thrown over yours, and his arms wrapped around you. The closeness of his body sends a flush of heat to your cheeks, and you feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“Tsu’tey,” you nudge him, “Wake up.”

It doesn’t take much to rouse him. You guess that, as a warrior, he was trained to be sensitive to sounds around him. Tsu’tey grunts heavily before blinking a few times, adjusting his eyes to the light. When he realizes how close your face is to his, he almost recoils.

"For someone who seems to hate me, you're very protective," you tease him, patting his arms playfully.

“Mhm, couldn’t risk you rolling into the fire in your sleep,” he grumbles, freeing you from his grasp.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

hey, if you can or whenever you have the time, can you write elliot and the reader getting into a big fight, and it ends up with her running to the bedroom, and she lays down crying. they dont talk for hours until elliot feels bad and comforts her. just straight up soft!elliot

I love some good angst turned fluff.

This is a little bit short than I wanted it to be but I have to leave for an MRI of my spine soon.

This cannot be my fault.

He looks angry as his lips pull up into a bitter smile, turning away from me as my lips part in shock, tears slipping silently down my cheeks. It was barely a screaming match, more us going back and forth arguing, getting absolutely nowhere between his sarcasm and my blubbers and cries. He looks tired and annoyed, his eyes looking down at the guitar that rests in his lap.

I'm being insecure and jealous and I'm aware of that, but why is it that I'm the one who feels bad when he's the one who should be feeling bad. Going behind my back to spend time with Rue and Jules without inviting me, dodging my calls when he's with them; I have every right to be angry at him and he has every right to sit there and take it but he's too damn proud.

"I don't know what the fuck you want me to say." He mutters, hanging his head as I gulp, my sweaty hands palming over my sweater as I cross my arms over my chest defensively. "You want me to say I'll never see them o-or I'll ask you permission-"

"No, that's not what I'm-"

"Or do you want me to just cut everyone out of my life that isn't you?" He asks, his expression even more furious as he stands, my feet carrying me backwards a bit,. He watches me as I stutter, my head shaking as I reach up to wipe my cheeks.

"I just wanted to share that I had some worries and that it hurt my feelings..." I trail off, my bottom lip wobbling a bit as I clear my throat, his expression softening a bit, his feet stepping towards me but I put my hand out. "I'm not trying to be controlling and I'm not gonna let myself be made out to be the bad guy for worrying." Taking one last look at him, I spin on my heels, making my quickly out of his room and into his bathroom with the slam of the door.

Curling myself up onto the mat next to the tub, I cradle my knees to my chest as I let out my sobs, worried that this would be the end for us. I feel stupid bringing it up in the first place but I was more upset that he made me feel like it was my issue and that he didn't do anything wrong. Maybe he had way more red flags than I originally thought and this was the time to realize it. Maybe he's a player and likes the attention of women around him, even though he's in a monogamous relationship with me.

I must've laid there for hours, my eyes falling shut from the exhaustion and tears, my body slipping into an uncomfortable slumber. Elliot must've slipped in while I was asleep, our gaze meeting as my eyes flutter open. He sends me a soft, sorry smile as he reaches out, cupping my cheeks.

"I'm not mad at you. I'm sorry for brushing it off and making you feel dumb." He mutters, tilting his head as he brushes his fingers through my hair, my eyes fluttering shut as I listen to his apologies. "I just got defensive, worried that me having friends would make you leave me." He scoffs, laughing at the silly words leaving his mouth. "I should've been honest with you, I know that I don't have to feel guilty for having friends and I know that wasn't your intention." I sit up, my hands reaching out to take his hesitantly as he lifts my knuckles to his lips, pressing kisses against the skin.

"They're just really pretty and I don't think they like me-"

"Alright, I'm having none of that. Zero of that shit." He chuckles, tugging me onto his lap, our arms instinctively wrapping around each other as relief fills me. I wasn't sure if he was going to come around and realize his mistake, and I was worried about what I would have to do if he continued to make me feel bad. But just knowing that he knows that he did something wrong and that he was wrong relaxes me. "You're gorgeous. Beautiful angel- my beautiful angel." He hums, pressing a kiss to the side of my head as I tuck my face bashfully into his neck. "I'm sorry again and I'm going to keep apologizing." He whispers sweetly, his arms tight around my waist as if he was afraid to lose me.

"You better."

================================================

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Euphoria Taglist: @colbysbrocks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx@ssprayberrythings @username-lols @pessimisticbiitch@urmomsangel @iamasimpingh0e @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @rosepetalsparks

[enmityenergy]

enmity-biscuit​:

He couldn’t help another chuckle from her muffled whine, smirking to himself in passive victory when she exhaled the held breath to reciprocate the kiss, letting it linger a few moments before pulling away, straightening up again with a good stretch of his spine.

He dropped his arms back to his sides with a slight quirk of a brow, pondering for a moment when she gave her quiet request.

“..i’ll carry you when you get out of breath, or if i feel the terrain is getting too steep. otherwise, i’ll move at the pace you set for us..”

It was much easier to let her take the lead, that way he could keep a close eye on her, and their surroundings for any potential dangers. There were wild animals on the mountain, mostly small to medium sized predators that avoided confrontation with monsters, but if they came across one hungry, or territorial enough.. they might try their luck.

And swiftly discover what a foolish mistake that would be.

Depending if he swung more red or blue in the ire of the moment, potentially their last.

He would endeavor to try not to harm anything living in front of Elsie, but he couldn’t guarantee that he would succeed. His LV could still throw him wildly out of control when he was angry, or defensive enough.

And something threatening his princess’s safety was certainly a roll of the proverbial dice.

He blinked back to his senses when he felt his girlfriend’s arms thrown around his shoulders, tuning back into the conversation just in time for his aperture to be smooched.

He snickered and was content to lean into her embrace for a moment, the gloved hand that had been resting on her face, now playfully toying with one of her twitchy fins.

It really was uncanny that she, in reality, had a few inches on him when she wasn’t scrunched up in a chair, or.. in the most recent case, folded up around his leg. Added to the fact he regularly ferried her around in his arms, it could still throw him just a little when she was standing up fully, and he had to slightly adjust to meet her gaze.

“..mm.. how about you surprise me, snowdrop? sandwiches would be easiest to set up for, but i’ll leave the contents to your discretion.. we need to make sure to bring plenty of water.. and some sun-cream for your scales, too.. okay?”

Once again his suggestion seems to be a more desirable option, so she’s fine with it. Giving a nod of her head as she listens to the small list that would need to be put together. 

“Kay, kay! Lots of water, sunscreen and sammiches with some simple snacks. Go it!” She chirps, Pressing a overly exaggerated smooch to his cheek before bouncing off to complete her little assigned quest.

She’d have to make sure she remembered to say thank you later for taking her. He didn’t like going down the mountain, no one seemed to. But she wanted to see what kinds of things she could find and the only person that would take her was Lizzy and she was business with important business stuff.

That and whenever she did go with their little human, Ari got all all worried and pacey.

And she wondered if she did it enough times, would he end up pacing himself into a trench?

What a funny image.

First to locate is the sunscreen, which arguably was the easiest thing for her to forget on the list, not that she didn’t think it was important. on the contrary, it was very important because of how sensitive her scales could be. It was simply that her excitement tended to get the best of her and she would forget things that’s all!

It was a bit of a walk back to where she was currently staying that was closer than she used to be, but it was manageable. This way she wouldn’t bother Talon with all her zooming around and she knew where mostly everything was in her own home then anywhere else.

It would be a much more efficient if Lizzy would let her build the conveyer system. Maybe she should draw up some blueprints for it so that she could properly see what she was talking about and the benefits!

She might even be able to adjust it to go down the mountain too, which could remove that pesky ‘stamina’ excuse. She couldn’t get tired if the path did all the moving for her!

A note to reference later is put into her phone, fins twitching as she paused on her doorstep.

What was she doing again? 

......Getting things for the picnic. Okay, now what things?

Water! Food! and there was one more thing...

Maybe she’d remember by the time she got everything else ready! Nodding to herself in agreement she set herself to work on collecting the needed water, pausing to note down the kinds of sandwiches that she wanted to make to take with them, so that she wouldn’t forget.

Pesky distracted mind! There was still that one thing she couldn’t put her finger on that was gonna bother her! It was something important. A blanket? Maybe it was the blanket!

You couldn’t have a picnic without a picnic blanket after all!

From here

@enmity-biscuit

Her cheeks continue to puff as he shuffles about the forge, the urge to bite his leg is increasing, but that kind of gesture wasn't needed....yet.

She would resort to it if she absolutely had to though!

Though the moment his skull nudges hers from his kneel, she can feel herself soften just a little, eyes squinting at him grumpily as he clarifies what the cause might be for her current actions this time.

He hit the nail on the head, but in her personal opinion it was obviously about going down the mountain! What else would she go to such lengths of brat-itude?

Certainly nothing that she could think of.

However when she's smooched, there's a small whine as she's forced to surrender in her hostage of breath for affection.

Damn her attention craving self! It made it far too easy for him to make her fold her cards so to speak.

She brightens as it seems her efforts are still being rewarded. A razor grin coming over her features as she nods her head rapidly in agreement to his compromise.

Before a slight puff returns to her cheeks, as she looks to the side. Pointer fingers lightly tapping against one another once she finally released his leg.

"I mean...you could maybe carry me for the first half, but I wanna walk the rest." It wasn't that she didn't like being carried. Often times she requested it even.

But she also liked being able to do things herself, going on hikes was nice but unfortunately Ari was right. She was not used to that kind of exercise.

When you were sheltered in a lab for several years, having all the resources provided to you. Essentially a princess in a tower of her own design. You didn't really exert yourself much.

Plus out of the two of them, one had the advantage of training their body for all sorts of things.

That being Arius.

"I can make it while you get things settled here then! Any special requests?" she asks, hopping up to her feet and throwing her arms around his shoulders, pressing a smooch to the tip of his aperture.

[nextdoor-neighbors]

Frustrations

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: When making Amorentia in Potions, you and Fred Weasley - who you can’t stand - come to a horrifying realization of who your potions smell like.

A/N: I know this isn’t really how Amortenia works but just bare with me, I liked the idea.

Link to Part 2!

“Today, we’ll be making Amortentia.”

“Ooh,” you say, under your breath, shifting in your chair. You’d heard of Amortenia, so you are excited to see what yours will smell like.

“I swear, you’re the only person in this world to get excited over Potions,” your best friend, Cedric, whispers in return, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

“I’m not the only one,” you retort, “don’t forget about Snape.”

“Miss Y/L/N, Mr. Diggory.” 

You look up at the sound of your name, cringing inwardly at Snape’s harsh gaze on you. Normally, your professor didn’t have a problem with you. You could say he liked you, even, considering you were normally the only one in the class to answer his questions.

“Miss Y/L/N. What is Amortentia?”

After rattling off a perfect definition, you hear snickers behind you, which without a doubt in your mind, comes from the Weasley twins. The two boys had always infuriated you with their pranks and their never taking anything seriously. Plus, they always went after you with Bludgers whenever your house played them in Quidditch. You knew they only did things to annoy you because they got a kick out of seeing you get so riled up, but you still fell for it every time.

Snape looks at you once last time before turning away. “Good. But enough with the chitchat in my classroom.”

“Yessir,” you respond, quietly.

Finally, Snape lets you begin. You carefully read through the steps, making sure you measure everything perfectly. Cedric watches you, grinning and shaking his head.

“You really are set on making everything perfectly, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Cedric,” you reply, not taking your eyes off of the substance in the cauldron in front of you, “I really am.”

“Oi, Y/L/N,” one of the Weasleys calls from behind you.

You sigh and turn around, raising an eyebrow as you meet the eyes of Fred Weasley. Fred was most certainly the more annoying of the two, in your opinion.

“What do you want, Weasley?”

“No need to be so harsh. I’m just asking what you think yours will smell like, that’s all.” You can’t help but notice the smirk that plays on Fred’s lips.

You narrow your eyes at him before turning back around. “I hate to break your heart, Weasley, but not you. Not in a million years.”

You risk a glance over your shoulder, just to receive a wink from Fred. “We’ll see about that, darling.”

You turn back around, huffing as you do so, before either of the Weasleys can see the blush spreading on your cheeks. You will it to go away before someone else sees either and gets the wrong idea.

Snape comes over to your table, peering into your cauldron.

“Why don’t you tell the class what yours smells like, Miss Y/L/N, since you’ve finished already?” he drawls, looking at you expectantly.

You lean over your cauldron, inhaling deeply as you try to place the scents that are wafting towards you.

“Mm,” you hum, naming the scents you recognize: “Smoke, like from a firework. And... sweets?” You sit back in your seat, now flushing deeply at the fact that your entire class now knows what you’re attracted to. “I-I think,” you add.

You hear the familiar chuckle behind you, and Snape’s head snaps towards the sound.

“Mr. Weasley,” Snape says sternly, “if you think it’s so funny, and considering yours looks like a disaster, why don’t you come smell Miss Y/L/N’s and tell the class what it smells like to you?”

Fred comes up behind you, so you scoot your chair over slightly so he can smell your Amortentia. You watch as he leans over, his hair falling over his face, and you get a whiff of the smokey scent again. You must be sitting too close to the potion still.

He inhales deeply, a confused look twisting his expression, and sniffs it again.

“Well?” Snape asks, impatiently.

Fred straightens up and shrugs. “Y/L/N is sitting too close to me. All I could smell is her perfume.”

The corner of Snape’s mouth quirks up in amusement as he looks between the two of you.

“That’s all I needed to know. Take a seat, Mr. Weasley,” he says, before turning away and walking to the other side of the room.

You look up at Fred, horror sinking in as you realize what Snape meant. You watch your feelings reflected on Fred’s face and the realization sets in for him, too, and he quickly turns away to head back to his seat.

You risk a look over at Cedric, who’s stifling a laugh.

“Oh, shut up,” you hiss at him, blushing again. Fred Weasley, attracted to you? He couldn’t be. All he did was tease you. And plus, there was no way you were attracted to him in return. I mean, what you smelled...

You start thinking about it, and it all makes sense, but in a terrible way. No, no, there had to be someone else who could be associated with those smells. Right?

Class ends, and you’re still deep in your thoughts as you gather your books. You have a free period next, so you’re probably just going to go hang out with Cedric at the library, like the two of you normally do. But as you’re leaving the classroom, your head lowered, you feel a hand on your back.

You look up in surprise, only to be face to face with Fred Weasley himself.

“What?”

He sighs at you. “Can I just talk to you? Without you hating my guts for five minutes?”

You blanch, guilt settling in at your harsh reaction, so you merely nod and let Fred lead the way down the halls, until you finally find an empty corridor. You both stop, standing somewhat defensively, in the middle of the hallway.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” Fred begins, “or, actually, ever find out, but here we are.”

The boy standing in front of you isn’t the annoying, constantly teasing and joking boy you’ve known for years, and it shocks you. He looks at you sheepishly, waiting for your response. But, honestly, you’re speechless. You’d spent so much time over the years simply looking at the things that irritated you about Fred that you never looked at the good things. For example, you had to admit that he was very good at Quidditch, despite the many times he nearly sent you to the Hospital Wing. And looking up at him now, you can't help notice that he is quite good looking. You’ve never been into gingers, but...

“Find out that you fancy me, you mean?” you ask, cocking your head.

When Fred doesn’t answer right away, you continue: “Why?”

He shrugs, his gaze locked on you, and you see the corner of his mouth beginning to twitch. You knew he couldn’t be serious for long. Oh, no, maybe this is all a joke. Maybe he didn’t actually smell your perfume, and maybe he just said that to mess with you, and-

“Oh, Merlin,” you say, breathily, cutting Fred off before he can even begin to answer your question. You’re so stupid, of course it was a joke. After all, it’s Fred Weasley you’re talking about. And to think, you were actually considering your feelings for him.

“This is all a joke, isn’t it?” you scoff, backing up. You watch as Fred’s face contorts, several different expressions passing over it in a matter of seconds. He steps towards you.

“No, Y/N-“ You can’t help but notice, through your embarrassment and anger, that this is the first time he’s called you by your first name.

“Y/N,” he continues, “it’s not, I-“

You step back once more, fuming, your back hitting the wall of the corridor.

“And how am I supposed to believe that, Fred, when that’s all everything is to you? Right? Oh, except for Quidditch, when you’re trying to kill me!”

Fred’s hand, palm splayed, lands on the brick wall next to your head, making you flinch. He leans close, frustration, heat, and that smokey smell radiating off of him. You look up at him, your heart pounding out of your chest and your breath catching in your throat.

“Y/N,” he repeats, his voice low and husky.

“What, Fred?” you respond when he doesn’t continue, your voice sounding shaky and far-away.

“If you’d just let me talk,” he says, slowly and quietly, making your stomach flip, “instead of being the know-it-all that you are all the bloody time-”

“Then what?” you cut him off, but you just can’t help it, not with all the feelings boiling inside of you. You’re angry and hurt and irritated and just a little turned on and- “Then you could laugh at me and tell me you lied about the Amorentia just to see how I’d react because mine smelled like you and you wanted to humiliate me?”

“Do you ever just stop talking?”

“Listen, you git-”

You’re cut off by Fred’s lips on yours. You fall into the kiss for just a second, taking in the softness of his lips, his smell, his body closing in on yours, and oh, Merlin, the passion and anger behind it, but once you process what’s going on, you put your hands on his chest and push him back, but not too far.

“Fred,” you say, at a loss for words between heavy breaths, because bloody hell, he’s a good kisser.

“Are you going to let me talk now?” he says, stepping back from you, much to your dismay. His eyes are dark, and as you watch him look you up and down briefly, you know it’s over for you. You have to give in. He’s just too damn addicting.

“No, I’m not.” you say, “Kiss me.”

That dastardly smirk appears on his lips as he steps back towards you, closing the gap and pressing his lips to yours again. Next thing you know, his hands are gripping behind your thighs and he’s lifting you, pressing your back against the wall as you wrap your legs around his waist and grab two fistfuls of his hair. The two of you meet each other’s hungry and ferocity, but it’s constantly increasing, as if you just want to one-up each other about who wants the other more. He bites your lip, hard, and you gasp, both from the pain and the pleasure.

“I knew it!”

Fred practically drops you as you both process the voice coming from down the corridor. You scramble to your feet, adjusting your skirt and hair as nonchalantly as possible, turning towards the source.

George Weasley and Cedric stand, staring at you and Fred with amusement. Well, George looks amused, while Cedric looks mostly concerned. You know you’ll have a lot of explaining to do later.

“I- we- it wasn’t-”

Fred picks up his books and begins walking down the hall towards his twin. But not before he turns around and gives you yet another once-over, winking at you with that smirk.

“See you next period, Y/L/N.”

[apricotgojo]

hello love! Can I please request a somewhat spicy sub!chat noir x reader? Maybe where the reader is kinda feeling him up and leaving him hickeys and he’s a purring and moaning mess? Maybe he’s begging her to keep going and who is she to say no to such a sweet baby kitty? If that’s not too much of course😌 tysm

Hello bb ! I hope that this satisfied your sub! Chat needs hehe (i know it satisfied mine so) I really love how this came out and maybe i’m willing on continuing another part from here) Thank you so much for this request ! <3

Pairing: Chat Noir X Reader

Warnings: NSFW, characters are aged up in college here :), swearing.

Tags: Sub!chat, Dry humping, begging.

This is how it all went down. He saved you from an akumatized villain. He flirted. You flirted back. Then you guys started hooking up.

You didn’t understand why Chat Noir would do this with a civilian but like every other person on this planet, he has his needs. He would knock in a pattern on your window so you knew it was him and you would let him in, you’d talk for a bit, ask each other about your day until one of you breaks and pushes the other on the bed or against the wall. He was good in bed. Very good. You knew you’d never grow tired of this affair. To top it all off after you both finished you’d sit in bed and talk about all sorts of things. Aliens, Conspiracy theories about the media, gossip about people and sometimes he’d even play Mario Kart with you.

There were no strings attached. You both made it clear from day one. There couldn’t be. You both didn’t have the time for a relationship, you both didn’t have the energy for one so you simply stuck to the title ‘fuck buddies’ until one of you decides to back out. This night was different though. A smile didn’t appear on your face when you hear the familiar knock on your window because you were stuck cussing at your computer screen and rubbing your head in frustration. You had an essay to explain Shakespeare and his works but for some reason you kept deleting all that you’ve typed because you couldn’t put your thoughts into words.

He knocked again, quickly this time. “I know you’re there, beautiful.” His voice was muffled through the glass.

You huffed and put your laptop on the bed before stomping to the window. You opened it and were met by the hero grinning at you. You, on the other hand, didn’t have a pleased look on your face.

“I’m not in the mood Chat.” You state and were about to close the window again but he held it to stop you from closing it.

“Ma Belle, did I do something wrong?” He asks, a frown on his face.

You shake your head. “No, I just have this stupid essay that I’ve been trying to type out for the past four hours.” You sigh and make your way back to your bed, rubbing your temples.

He follows you inside and closes the window behind him.

“Maybe I can ease your stress for a little bit.” He says, a smirk on his face.

You simply shoot him a glare and he chuckles nervously, putting his hands up in defense.

“Okay. No sex. Got it.” He sits beside you and looks at what you’re typing.

“You know you can leave right? If you’re horny you can go to your other side bitches.” You say as you type away, your eyes glued onto your screen.

Chat purses his lips, like he held himself back from saying something and shook his head.

“Maybe I came here for some company.” He says.

You snort and chuckle. “Yeah right.” You say sarcastically and look at him, but he wasn’t smiling. You gulp and your smile fades away. Did he seriously come over because he feels lonely?

His face was leaning closer to your and you were leaning closer too. No. You had to finish this stupid essay.

“Stop distracting me kitty.” You whisper and kiss his nose quickly before looking back at the screen.

He groans and falls back on the bed, playing with the pillow.

“I can help you if you’re writing about Shakespear, I wro-“ He stops himself from talking and you turn around, quirking your eyebrow at him.

“You wrote an essay like this?” you questioned.

He visibly gulps and shakes his head.

“Do you go to college?” You question further.

He chuckles nervously. “You know I can’t tell you that mon ange.”

You stare at him for a moment before looking back at your screen. You decided not to pry further, he seemed uncomfortable talking about his personal life and you decided to respect his wishes.

Your phone started to ring and you see that it’s your friend from college Marinette. You pick it up.

“Hey Mari.” You say as you type.

“The deadline has been changed to next week!” She exclaims happily.

You were filled with rage.

“what?” You deadpanned.

“Yeah apparently some students asked to change it because they were having difficulties so he changed it to next week instead of tomorrow morning.”

“I literally asked him to extend the deadline three days ago and he refused. I swear to god I want to kill this son of a bitch” You groan and clutch your fist in anger.

She sighs, “I know girl, but hey at least you’ve got more time on your hands!”

Marinette always tried to be positive when she could and you appreciated that but honestly you needed to vent. “Yeah, thanks for letting me know Mari.”

“No problem! Bonne nuit.”

“Bonne nuit.” You sigh out before you end the call.

You groan out in frustration and shut your laptop.

“What happened?” Chat asks.

You get out of your bed and start to pace around.

“I have been working on this essay for the past four days, knowing very well how stupid it was that the deadline was only five days for a two thousand word essay on fucking Shakespeare and when I ask to extend the deadline, the son of a bitch replies with an angry email saying theres enough time and that im just lazy.” You finally breathe and chat was about to say something but you cut him off.

“But when his privileged French pupil ask him to extend the deadline of course he agrees and you know what, I think it was Adrien fucking Agreste who asked him because hes the fucking pretty model boy who has everybody on their knees for him just because of his high status.” You sit down and without realising you start talking about a different subject.

“Yeah, I get it, everybody wants to fuck the pretty blond guy with money, I would too but at least I don’t look like a thirsty bitch every time he talks to me, some girls in my damn college have literally no chill and I swear to god one day I want to make him my bitch, make him weak for me to show those bitches what i’m capable of.” You were breathing heavily at this point and your face was flushed red.

You always thought Adrien was attractive, everyone did but whenever he talked to you, you responded normally to him unlike other people who constantly laughed at everything he said to try and get in his pants. He was a good guy but he was too well known for his own good and it made you uninterested in him. You thought he was out of your league, that’s what those french bitches told you at least. They belittled you just because you’re foreign - you knew they were just jealous that Adrien was always the one to come up to talk to you unlike them.

That was enough ranting for now. You look at Chat who was staring at you wide eyed, his cheeks glowing red.

“You don’t need to say anything, it’s just-“ You look down at his body and notice something. “Chat..why are you hard?”

He crosses his legs over the other awkwardly to try and hide it. “W-What are you talking about?”

You stand up and walk over to him and he walks back until he’s pressed against the wall.

“What? You get hard thinking about me making someone weak?” You whisper to him and he looks away from you. “You want me to do the same to you kitty?” You kiss his ear and he shudders, nodding slowly. Your hand moves down from his chest to his belly and your lips move from his ear to his jaw. Chat tilts his head back and a frenzy of purrs emerge from his parted lips. He was aroused, in a state of euphoria even with your small, light touches. Your hand moved lower until it reached down to the tent he had in his suit. It was painfully tight for him. Your fingertips lightly brushed over the bulge and he cussed under his breath.

“Fuck.” He whispered while you continued to touch his clothed erection and lick up his neck. He kept purring and moaning at the same time. You loved seeing him worked up like this. Your lips latched on to a certain spot on his neck and you sucked on it harshly, nibbling at it when you got the chance and putting more pressure with your hand against him.

He was a mess, grinding against your hand and breathing heavily.

“Ma Belle – merde,” he couldn’t even speak without stuttering. “I want more, please.” He begs and you look up at him, noticing the red mark on his neck and feeling very pleased with yourself.

“More what, kitty?” You whisper and remove your hand from where it was.

He groans in frustration.

“More – I-I want you to touch me more.” He pleads. “Please.”

You smirk at him and pull him to your bed, pushing him back on the bed and getting on his lap. Before he could react you put your lips on his and start to grind on top of him.

He moans against your lips and throws his head back, holding onto your hips for support. You could tell that he wanted to take his clothes off but you wanted him to come right then and there.

Your hips move against his, the friction pleasing you the same, causing you to moan but grin at the worked up blond beneath you.

“Shit, shit I’m close.” He whimpers and closes his eyes, moving his own hips with yours to get more pleasure.

It felt so good but you knew you couldn’t finish with him, maybe you could continue after but your hopes disappeared when you heard the beeping coming from his ring.

“Mon Ange I-“

“Shut up and come for me kitty.” You groan out and quicken your movements causing him to part his lips and hold onto you.

His body shakes and he spews out cuss words in French while he comes undone, thrusting his hips up and whimpering.

You’re both breathing heavily, looking at each other both dazed and tired. You were about to lean in for another kiss but his ring starts beeping furiously.

You hop off of his lap and watch as he groans while he gets up, uncomfortably moving because of the mess he made between his legs.

“I’m sorry I cant finish you off.” He says, pouting at you.

“It’s okay Chat, I think you’ve done enough today.” You wink at him and he chuckles bashfully.

“Until next time Mon ange!” He says and opens the window.

“Bye Kitty.” You blow him a kiss and with that he’s off.

Maybe you could actually finish yourself off to the thought of him being a mess for you but before you could even do anything, your phone beeps and you see a notification from Adrien Agreste.

 “Did you hear that they moved the deadline for the Shakespeare essay? Pissed me off tbh.”

It was like he knew you accused him of something and to top it all off this was the first time he’s ever really texted you. It was weird but maybe you shouldn’t think much of it. Right?

[rendevousz]

mum?

mother figure!nat x fem!teen!reader

avengers x reader

req by @teenwonder ; i absolutely love the entire teams adoration for reader skfksngnsf its so cute! could i please request one a little more nat based? maybe r treats and loves nat like a mom but nat hadn’t noticed that before, and the whole team is like listing examples of how and why 🥺🥺🥺

summary: the four times you needed nat and the one time she admits that she needed you too.

warnings: blood, a random attack out of nowhere because i'm not creative, inaccurate writing of medical situations because i have no idea how those things work, also let's just pretend bruce was around during iron man 2 when tony still had palladium in his arc reactor, also inaccurate descriptions of palladium effects bcs i just...don't know much about palladium pls forgive me thanks, and idk any hospitals in new york/manhattan or even the states LMAO so uh bear with this, and last but not least, my inability to write good endings

word count: 5426

notes: that's a long ass warning nevertheless pls do enjoy this fic <3

"i'm going now, bye!" you bid the team who were having breakfast together, walking out of the common area.

"bye, cupcake! don't get into trouble, don't do what i'd do and definitely don't do what i wouldn't do." tony advised and you rolled your eyes because tony says that to you every morning before you leave for school.

"wait, don't forget your lunch!" nat stands up from her seat and grabs your lunch that she had packed, from the kitchen island, bringing it over to you. "thanks, nat!" you grabbed it, giving her a quick peck on the cheek before leaving.

nat smiles at the action, turning around to walk back to her spot on the table, only to find the team staring back at her with knowing looks.

"what?"

"you know, you only need to sign a couple papers and the kid's all yours." tony states matter-of-factly. nat snaps her head towards the man, an incredulous look on her face. "what are you talking about?"

"we all see the longing looks on both your faces. she's dying for you to call her your daughter and you, her mother." clint explains and the others nodded in agreement.

"that's nonsense. she has wanda too," nat reasons, sitting back down. "i'm pretty sure she sees wanda as a sister considering how much she drags wanda with her whenever she's causing trouble around the tower." steve raises his brows at the redhead who was in denial.

"she sees you as her mother, nat. just accept it," wanda tells her, taking a sip from her glass. "really? name me one time she showed it." nat challenges them, not knowing that they've been watching your interactions with her for the longest time.

"you have no idea what you just got yourself into, romanoff," clint chuckles, cracking his neck and knuckles as if preparing for a fight.

"remember new mexico?" he smirks and nat only frowns, trying to remember.

i.

"no!" you screamed, dropping down to the ground. you didn't care that you scraped your knees doing that, the only thing that mattered was the overwhelming feeling of grief engulfing your whole being. tears streamed down your face as you looked at the debris on the ground, the remainder of what used to be standing in front of you; a building. blown up, now in ruins.

clint, bucky and steve watched you break down in front of them, their hearts breaking at the sight in front of them as well as the fact that their teammate had been caught up in the middle of the explosion.

"y/n/n? come on, tony's team called for back up. we gotta go," steve tried to get you to stand up, failing when you kept your ground. you screamed when he tried again and their hearts clenched at the heartbreaking sound.

"we can't just leave her! please, we have to find her," you cried, clinging onto steve's body as he ran his hand up and down your suit-cladded back to soothe you. "y/n/n, we can't. the whole place is in ruins now," he didn't want to say it but he had to. he had to in order to get you to leave. "she's gone."

"she can't be gone! she can't just leave us! we need her! i need her, stevie.." you cried into his chest and he had to control himself so he didn't cry right then and there too.

he looked up to see bucky looking at the two of you guiltily, tapping his wrist to indicate that they were running out of time. steve had no choice but to carry you in his arms, getting you to leave the site against your will. but you were too weak to fight back now. "what am i gonna do without her now, stevie?" you asked quietly.

"we're gonna be okay, y/n/n," he tells you, sitting you down on a chair and settling down next to you as clint flew the jet to your next location. the atmosphere was tense and you could tell everyone, too, was sad about this.

"what if we're not? what if we're not gonna be okay, stevie? i know i won't be." you wiped the tears streaming down your face despite the fact that your face still wasn't drying up any time soon.

"because nat wouldn't want to see us like this. she'll be angry if she sees that we're risking people's lives just because of her." he says truthfully.

"we're landing, guys." clint announces and the team prepared for another round of fighting. steve turns to you, wiping the tears on your face as he made you look up at him. "now let's save some people and make nat proud, yeah?"

you nod at him sadly, preparing your weapons. all of you got out the jet and the second battle of the day begun. boy, were these people unlucky because they were on the receiving end of your fury.

you were busy taking down a group of guards alone when you heard a familiar voice. "y/n, behind you!" and you turned just in time to take down a guard who was aiming at you.

you didn't even have time to register your shock of seeing the redhead because more guards came at you two. you guys fought alongside each other until all the men were taken down.

"nat?" you breathed out. "yes, bub?" she answers as you both carefully walked over the knocked out men. she was taken aback when you slammed into her, hugging her the tightest you ever did since you met her.

"please don't ever do that again." you mumbled into her chest. she was about to ask you what you meant when she heard you sniffling. figuring out it wasn't the appropriate moment to ask, she continued to just hug and comfort you in silence.

"wait, that was why she cried that day? because she thought i was in that building when it blew up?" nat asks after steve finished the story. "i never found out why because she never told me."

"yeah, you should've seen her when the building exploded. completely shattered my heart, dude." clint states, remembering the broken down state you were in that day.

"wait, did you guys not grief over my supposed death then?" nat glares at clint, bucky and steve. "in our defense, they were about to blow up about a hundred people, we didn't have much time to process the whole situation." clint tries to convince his best friend, only to receive a glare again from her.

"alright but just because she cried when she thought i was dead, doesn't mean she sees me as her mum. i'd cry too if any one of you guys died," she states, still in denial.

she did love you like how a mother would love her child. but she didn't want you to feel that she was forcing the title onto you. after all, you had so many other adults around you, who's to say that you saw someone else as a parent figure instead of her? she didn't want to make you uncomfortable.

"woman, are you serious?" sam exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air dramatically. "need i remind you that the girl sacrificed her life for you?"

ii.

"nat, watch out!" you stood right behind her where the man was about to attack her. you gave him a harsh kick to the head and that was all it took for the man to go unconscious.

the redhead turned around, not having enough time to comprehend what had happened before you dropped into her arms. you two were lucky the last of the men had already been taken out.

"bub? what's wrong?"

at this point, you were fully leaning against her. she was holding up your whole weight, hands wrapped around your middle to support you. that was when she felt it. the familiar thick substance on her fingers, leaking from the back of your suit.

her eyes widened, pulling one hand away from you to look at it. red. her breathing picked up as one of her hands felt around your back, finally feeling the handle of a knife sticking out from your back.

your eyes were already drooping by now and she lightly shook you awake, careful to not hurt you. she lowered you down and you were both sat on the floor now.

she presses a finger to her ear and you could hear her voice echo in your ear from your own comms. "can someone come please," she paused, exhaling shakily. "y/n's down."

if it had been any other person, she probably would be bringing them to the jet by now but it was you. she didn't know what came over her but when she saw that you were injured, it was like her whole body shut down. her knees felt weak and she couldn't bring herself to move.

"hey, hey, keep your eyes open. can you do that?" she asked gently and you nodded weakly. "bub, why did you do that?" she cried softly, moving your hair away from your face as you leaned sideways against her. the action caused your face to be smudged by your own blood from her hands but she didn't care as she caressed your cheek.

"he–he was gonna hurt you. i–i couldn't..." you paused a while, the pain getting too much for you to bear. "y/n, don't strain yourself. you need to stay awake," she tells you as tears streamed down her face.

"rather me than you," you whispered. nat's eyes widened at this. "don't say that, bub." she scolds gently.

you smiled weakly at her. "i've grown too dependent on you, nat. it's to the point that i," you coughed and nat worried that you were straining yourself but you continued. "that i'd rather die than live without you. you probably can go on with life without me but i can't without you. i need you, nat." your eyes closed and nat panics, shaking your body.

"y/n?! bub?! stay awake, please, they're coming!" nat cries out loud, holding onto your limp body.

"did we not agree to not mention that to me anymore?" nat glares at sam for bringing that up.

the night of that incident had been one of the worst nights for nat. she sat by your bed all night after you had been treated. she had been the first one you saw after you woke up. she had been the one you broke down in front of after you admitted the full reasoning behind your actions. she had been the one who opened her arms for you to make yourself at home in.

"i'm sorry but you must be blind if you can't see how really she sees you for the past years," bucky states. nat turns to him with a glare. "you don't know what you're talking about."

"oh really? who does she call whenever she has a really bad nightmare?" bucky questions rhetorically with his eyebrows raised.

iii.

"no, please, don't!" you begged, asleep and thrashing around in your bed. quiet whimpers turned into heavy breathing as you plead for your life in your nightmare. "please," you whispered, inhaling and exhaling harshly.

FRIDAY, noticing the amount of distress you were in, alerted the closest person to your room, that being bucky who was returning from a late night trip to the kitchen for some water.

he quickly went into your room, only to see you shivering and thrashing around in your bed. "doll?" he approaches slowly, finding you still asleep, though sweating a lot. nightmare, he realised.

"doll? wake up," he gently shakes you and you immediately jolt awake, breathing heavily as you register what was going on. "it's okay, it was just a nightmare," he soothes you, holding you close as one hand rubbed up and down your back while the other held your head to his chest.

none of that helped as you were still in the same state as you were when you woke up. "are you okay?" he asks, worried. "nat... i need nat.. please i need her," you whimpered, shaking in his hold. you were having trouble breathing.

"FRIDAY, get romanoff."

within minutes, nat arrived, looking panicked and disheveled like she had just woken up, which she just did. "what's wrong?" she asks bucky, approaching you two.

"she was having a nightmare and woke up and i think she's having a panic attack. she asked for you," he informs her and immediately moves away when she approaches, so that she could take his place.

"bub? it's me," you look up to meet natasha's pretty green eyes. "you're okay, bub. can you tell me five thing you can see?"

you looked away from her eyes, looking around your room. "i–i see my book on my nightstand, my lamp, my jacket on the chair, my laptop and the painting on the wall." you told her after some difficulties.

"good, that's good. four things you can feel?"

"i feel the socks on my feet, my fluffy blanket, the pillow i'm leaning on and your hands around me."

she smiles softly at you. "three things you can hear?"

"i hear your voice. a–and the faint noise from the ac and i can also hear bucky's breathing." you look up at the man and he smiles sheepishly at you, standing around awkwardly. you gave him a small smile back.

"two things you can smell?"

"i can smell my own shampoo..and my room's air freshener." you told her more calmly now, feeling the panic attack already going away.

"one thing you want to taste?"

"i wanna taste wanda's blueberry pancakes." you pout and the two adults couldn't help but chuckle. "you can have them in the morning. right now you need to sleep so you can have the energy to devour them tomorrow, okay?" you nod at the woman as she tucks you in.

not long after, you fell asleep. she then presses a kiss to your forehead before leaving with a less worried bucky now. and sure enough, the next morning, wanda made you blueberry pancakes.

"okay, so what? we all need someone to help us through panic attacks?" nat rolls her eyes. "did you miss the part where i came in and tried to help but she specifically asked for you? she needed you, nat."

"guys, i... i love her with my whole heart but she has all of us. i don't wanna make her feel like she's restricted to only one of us. you all love her too," nat reasons.

"yes but she doesn't have anyone to call her mum and frankly, i think you'd be perfect for it." wanda encourages the older woman.

"i—" before she could continue, her phone rang loudly and she thanked whoever it was that called her because now she didn't have to make up excuses about her doubt of becoming your official mother.

iv.

she looks down at the caller id, sighing when it was you, meaning the team had more against her now. of course she didn't mind you calling her, you could call her when she'd be asleep after a mission and she'd still pick up with a smile on her face. but it was the fact that the whole team could see how she softened when she realised it was you who called that bothered her. she really didn't want them to let her have hopes that you'd accept her as your mother.

"bub?" she said into the phone and half the team smirked at her while the other half gave her knowing smiles. "aren't you supposed to be on your way to school?"

"yeah but uh are you busy right now? i um, i need you."

nat immediately stands up, worry etched onto her face and the team frowned at this. "what happened? are you okay?"

"you know how i told happy i wanted to walk to school today? yeah, i just remembered why i don't walk to school anymore."

"what do you mean? what happened? are you hurt? did someone hurt you?" she bombards you with questions out of worry. at this point, the team had also stopped their chatter and teasing looks, equally worried for your well-being.

"yeah, i am. wait, maybe not. i mean, i was just being dramatic but uh, i tripped on who-knows-what and now i have a sprained ankle. i can't walk now so i'm standing in an alley right now so i'm not in the way of people. can you come get me?"

nat sighs in relief, thankful that it wasn't anything that she was thinking of. "you are unbelievable, y/n." she chuckles in disbelief at your clumsiness. "can you tell me where you are? i'll come get you now. i'll have the school know you're not coming today." you told her your location and she immediately leaves after telling the team what happened to you.

you were expecting nat to call again, to tell you she was around the corner but instead you heard a whoosh of air beside your head, followed by a crack sound. your head followed the sound, eyes widening when you saw that a dart had struck the wall beside your head. you looked ahead, trying to see where that came from.

if it hadn't been for your fast reflexes being an avenger for the past few years, you probably wouldn't have ducked in time when another dart came flying right for your head. "what the hell?" you grunted, staying low but still looking around for the source. you squinted when you looked up, the sun blazing but you managed to catch a glimpse of a man on a rooftop nearby. he had blonde hair and was dressed in all black, donning a same coloured mask that covered the bottom half of his face.

"you had one job! how could you miss her twice?!" the blonde hears his colleague hiss in his ear through the earpiece. "i'm sorry! i'm no hawkeye, how was i supposed to get her in one try?!" he scolds back.

"you didn't even get her in two!"

"shut up and just let me work! you're distracting me!"

"hurry because i see the redheaded one nearing the alley. boss'll kill us if he finds out we didn't get her in her vulnerable state."

"i'm trying, i'm trying!" the blonde closes one eye, his sight now locked on your crouched state. he saw you move once you saw him and he cursed under his breath, his weapon following your movements. "she's moving!"

"just take the shot and be done with it! you have to go now!"

and shoot he did. after he shot the dart gun, he immediately fled but it wasn't like you were going to be able to chase him down or anything. a scream left your lips as a dart pierced through your skin, right under your shoulder.

you dropped down to the ground, right in the middle of the alleyway. you cried when you felt the burn in your flesh. you had been stabbed multiple times before with much bigger objects so why did this feel different?

"y/n?! is that you?!" you heard nat's voice yell from a small distance away. "i'm here," you croaked out, feeling your body grow weaker at an alarming rate.

"oh my god, bub, why are you on the ground? it's dirty, c'mon let's get you up. which foot did you sprain?" she places both her hands under your arms, pulling you up on your feet before accidentally dropping you back when you let out a shriek, crying out in pain.

"oh my god, did i hit your ankle? are you okay?" nat assumed that your tear-stained face was because of your sprained ankle but then you wheezed, your eyes drooping the longer she stood there.

your right hand slowly reached across your left shoulder, the butt of the dart sticking out of your skin now in between your shaking fingers. nat's eyes followed your hand movement's, a gasp leaving her lips.

"y/n, what happened?!" she panicked but before she could even get an answer from you, you had already blacked out. her eyes widened, knowing it was the dart because why else would you pass out that quick from a simple penetration in the shoulder. you had dealt with much worse than that and she knew your tolerance level.

she took off your bag, careful to not move the dart. she then placed her hands under your knees and behind your back, easily picking your unconscious body up and rushing back to the tower.

when she arrived, she was met with many confused yet concerned looks from the tower staff, seeing the black widow, rushing in with the youngest avenger unconscious in her arms. they had seen you leave the tower for school about half an hour ago so they knew something must've happened on the way.

"get bruce in the hospital wing. tell him it's urgent." she tells the woman working the front desk, hurrying into the elevator and telling FRIDAY to get her to the floor she so desperately wanted to arrive at quicker. black lines appeared on the left side of your neck, slowly spreading to the right side and she assumed it was from that damned dart in your left shoulder.

"natasha! what's wrong? they said it was an emergency," the doctor spoke in a panicked voice when nat entered, immediately going quiet when he saw you in her arms, neck lined with seemingly black veins.

nat laid you down on the surgery table, frown growing when black lines steadily spread to your arms now. though she was too worried to think, she managed to at least tell bruce what was outwardly wrong with you.

"dart. left shoulder." she blurted, incapable of forming proper sentences now that she had seen more of you. the black lining your skin got her speechless and anxious. bruce got ready with medical gloves, removing the dart from your flesh before analysing the pattern of your skin. it looked familiar.

"FRIDAY, get tony down here. it's urgent."

"bruce, please, what's wrong with her?" she cried, tears now freely streaming down her face. she didn't cry much in front of anyone but when it came to you, you always managed to get her to do just that.

"hey, what's going on? FRIDAY said there was an emergency here, who's hurt?" nat heard tony's panicked voice but she didn't make an effort to reply. her gaze was fixed on only you.

tony's jaw dropped, frowning when he saw you on the bed, upper body covered in black lines. "what the hell happened?!"

tony stepped beside bruce, taking a closer look at your skin. his frown deepened. "wait, it looks like.."

"yeah, looks exactly like when you had palladium instead of vibranium in your arc reactor."

"does that mean—"

"palladium's been running through her veins for about twenty minutes now. FRIDAY, how high is her blood toxicity level?" bruce asks, sampling a drop of your blood from when he took out the dart.

"53% and it is still steadily increasing."

"tony, at the rate it's going, if she's not treated in the next fifteen minutes or so, she'll.." bruce pauses, not wanting to say it out loud.

"no, she just needs lithium dioxide. that's how fury and i cured your palladium poisoning, tony." nat finally speaks.

"SHIELD probably has them but they're all the way in dc. they're not gonna reach here in time," tony states solemnly, reaching over to move your hair out of your face, looking down at you sadly.

but he was immediately pulled aside, nat grabbing his collar and looking him straight in the eyes. "you have your stupid iron suits that can probably travel faster than the speed of sound if you try. you can go down there yourself and get the damn thing. i swear to god, tony, i'm literally going to destroy those stupid suits myself if you don't put them to good use." nat threatens, glaring at the billionaire.

tony's eyes widened, the genius having not thought about nat's idea yet. "yeah, yeah, you're right, i'll go now."

he left immediately and nat approached your bed hesitantly, not wanting to see the black lines making home on the skin on your upper body. "do you think tony'll make it back in time?" she sniffles and bruce's worried frown on his face softened. "of course he will. he won't let anything happen to y/n. we won't let anything happen to y/n." he assured her.

there was nothing they could do now but wait for tony to come back with the lithium dioxide. nat sat beside your bed, hands gingerly grasping one of your own. despite the black staining it, nat held it to her face and her tears rolled past the back of your hand.

bruce decided to give her some privacy, opting to inform the whole team of the situation instead of standing around idly.

nat pulled your hand away from her face, rubbing her thumb over the back of it, crying even more at the sight in front of her. "y/n, please. i've never told you this but i need you." she pauses, breathing in shakily. "i've always needed you and i'll always need you. you can't leave me, please. you said i could go on with life without you but you're so wrong, y/n. you're the reason i'm still here and you're the reason i still want to be here. if you're not here then it's as if i have no reason, no purpose. i need you, y/n. so much more than i'd like to admit. heck, probably much more than you need me. so please, don't leave me. i can't do this without you." nat sobs out, watching the patterns on your skin spreading and growing bolder.

at this point, the whole team had now gathered outside of the room, watching nat cry over you. they wanted so bad to get a closer look at their beloved baby avenger but they respected nat and instead, waited for her to finish talking to you. once she stood up and looked around, bruce knew she was done so he entered, followed by the team.

"status, FRIDAY?" bruce asks, sampling a bit of your blood again. "blood toxicity at 96% now."

the team looked your unconscious body in apprehension, some crying and some worried out of their minds.

"goddamnit! where the hell is stark?!" nat growled. her eyes were now puffy after having spent the last half an hour crying. the team had never seen her lose her cool like this but they figured why.

as if on cue, tony's iron man suit crashed through the windows of the room but he couldn't care less. his main priority was to get to you quickly. in his hand was a silver briefcase that he passed to bruce.

bruce opened the case before wasting no time in plunging the syringe containing lithium dioxide, your supposed cure, into you. immediately, the black patterns on your skin started disappearing. it was slow but noticeable. it started from the tips of your fingers, going up towards your neck.

everyone sighed in relief, and to tony's surprise, nat hugged him tightly. "thank you. you have no idea how much this means to me." she whispers. tony pats her back gently. "hey, i care about her too, okay? of course i'd do this for her. any one of us would."

nat smiles at him when she let him go, turning back to you and almost crying out in joy when your skin had finally turned back to normal. she let the medical assistants set your bed up and handle your sprained ankle before going back to sit by you. the team left her alone with you once again.

it was only about an hour later did you wake up, squinting when bright lights shone down on you. you moved around but you felt hands around your left and you heard a familiar voice.

"and remember when you dragged wanda to pull that prank on me with you and after you did, i grounded you like i was your mum or something?" you hear her chuckle, still not noticing that you've woken up.

"i didn't mind, though. frankly, i don't think i would ever mind if you continued acting like my mother or something," you spoke and she immediately tore her gaze from your hands, looking at you, now wide awake.

"bub!" she hugs you so tightly you didn't think you could breathe. you still returned the hug though, laughing. "i was worried you might still have some palladium in your bloodstream."

"wait, palladium?" you asked her in shock. "yeah, the dart that got you in that alley, it contained palladium. it's highly toxic so we used lithium dioxide to counter it. speaking of the dart, i'm going to find out who did this to you and they're never going to see the light of day for putting us through all of this." nat says, disturbingly calm.

"yeah...you do that," you tell her, slightly scared. "but palladium? in my blood? how cool is that? i had literal metal in my blood! i could've become like tony but like...palladium woman or something." you said excitedly.

"you do know we already have metal in our blood, right bub?" nat questions in amusement. "oh." you say dumbly. "and palladium don't belong in our body and you literally almost died because of it." your mouth opened but no words came out.

"speaking of, can you please not do that again? i really thought i was gonna lose you." she whispers, stroking your hair. "oh yeah, of course. i'll just announce to the whole world to not target the youngest avenger," you joke, smile dropping when nat gave you a stern look.

"nat, being part of the avengers at my age undoubtedly means i'll be a target for the bad people out there, but i don't care because while i get to kick ass, i know all of you have my back when it's my ass that's kicked. and i think that's the best part of being an avenger; the sense of security i get having you amazing people as my teammates." you tell her honestly and she smiles softly.

"oh come here you," she pulls you in for another hug but this time it's better because you could still breathe. you make yourself comfortable, snuggling into her.

"did you mean it?" she asked and you look up at her in confusion. "mean what?"

"when you said you wouldn't mind me acting like your mother."

"of course i do, you're like the mother i never had. i wouldn't even mind you being my actual mother." you say without a second thought, eyes widening when you realised what you had said. you swore under your breath, knowing you've just made it awkward between you two.

"i– really?" despite the teams efforts to make her see the truth, it was much more meaningful when she heard you say it yourself. "y–yeah.." you admit sheepishly.

"then you wouldn't mind if i actually adopted you?" she asks carefully, gauging your reaction. your jaw dropped, eyes going wide once again. "are you serious?!"

"yeah." she smiles at you fondly. "no! of course i won't mind!" you hug her tightly, tears forming in your eyes. you had gone all your life without parents so this was a huge thing for you. not only were you going to finally have a mother, but the most amazing woman you knew was going to be your mother.

"mum?" you tested the title, smiling when she acknowledged it. you were now crying in joy.

"hey, don't cry." she soothes you, running a hand up and down your back. "no, no, i'm just so happy. this is the best day of my life." you tell her. "me too, bub."

you stayed in her arms until you fell back asleep, nat tucking you in before going back to sit down on the chair. she looked down at you fondly.

sure, she was scared of the big step she was about to take with you but she had you with her and she knew that was enough. "i love you, y/n." she whispers, planting a kiss on the side of your head.

taglist <3

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[dokeomi]

shin

the air is still, in a way it can only get when it’s this cold. shin laughs, and then his breath catches in his throat, frozen. there’s something swirling in his gut; he shifts, drops his forehead to minsung’s shoulder. they’re still holding hands in his pocket. “i’m trying, minsung. i really am.” out here, there’s not even walls to listen in.

A belief lives in the back of Minsung’s head, where all the other awful thoughts and whims have rooted. The things nobody’s supposed to think about, like how others might react at his own funeral, or about spitting in Shin’s brother’s cup of coffee in secret before handing it over the next time he visits (specifically Kwang). Those kinds of thoughts. That’s where this one lives, that Shin dusts off now, the supposed impossibility of being able to annoy to the point of a real problem. Minsung doesn’t say that he’s wrong, and that he thinks it’d likely be easy if he really tried at it, because then he’d go ahead and annoy him and they’d be stuck out in the forest where Shin was already probably miserable, compounding by the second.

The shameful part of that whole line of thinking isn’t the possibility of it, it's the question of whether or not he will. If it’ll start raking through him like a compulsion because they’ve gone ahead and changed their habitat, like an ornery cat unused to the change and tearing up chunks of carpet to sharpen their claws on. And it’s Minsung’s fault they’ve changed it anyway, and that just makes it worse. 

He presses his lips together when they exchange smiles, the expression thinned by it. “Of course I’m annoying on purpose. But I’m choosing to be perfectly pleasant right now. I could tip my scales at any moment, shove you into a snow bank.” He knocks his shoulder back into Shin’s, not hard enough to send him sliding, something to pair with the devious grin he’s turned his earlier smile into.

It doesn’t last long anyway, hidden behind Shin’s mouth. The kiss makes Minsung’s chapped lips sting, but he presses himself closer anyway. The contact calms the uneasy patter of his heart. Always a little too rough with everything, especially in the beginning. Defensive over it too, in that way where he’d clam up and get angry if Shin asked him too many questions in a voice where it just sounded like he didn’t quite understand Minsung’s thought process. If Shin were to mention it now, about liking  the bruises and marks too, Minsung probably would’ve laughed. Been annoying. 

“What, you think you’ll look irresistible in your little polyester hiking coat?” He bets Shin would never in his life buy polyester anything, even for an outfit he’d never wear, which just makes it funnier. “We could take a picture, send it to your parents as, like, a holiday greeting card.” He laughs again, wide-mouthed  because nobody’s around to see him except for Shin who by now probably knows the exact shape of all his teeth. The laughter is still vibrating in his throat when he feels Shin’s weight fall forward to rest against his shoulder. He stills in place, watches the puffs of his own breath cloud in front of his face as he listens to Shin, every word he says feels uncomfortable. 

Even if he’s gotten better at going through the motions of it, Minsung’s never gotten over the uneasiness that fills him whenever he’s expected to comfort someone. Stiffed up limbs, like he’s gotten putty stuck between his joints. Words somehow even stiffer. And this is an even worse thing to comfort over, because it’s something Minsung’s nervous about, too. He squeezes his hand between intervals that are too fast to be soothing, more like a nervous tick. “Well…if your trying runs out, I won’t blame you.” It doesn’t sound like a guilt trip, or the way that someone talks hoping for a compliment, for someone else to try and scrub away whatever self-deprecating thing was said with a fervor. It’s just that, to Minsung, that length of trying for someone has always seemed finite. Like a rope, used up and fraying and knotted in tangles the more it goes through. That rope for a person can finish. “It’s my thing that we’re stuck out here over. You don’t have to carry it if you can’t, don’t want to. Whatever.”

He’s not being brave. He’s chewing on his tongue so hard he tastes copper.  His hands shake with the energy leeched out from him to say what he did, the fear of staying here alone, though it’s well-hidden by the cold. It’s just, if someone’s trying runs out it doesn’t matter what Minsung’s opinion on the matter is. They just stop trying anyway. That’s how it works.