#i get why this is what percy would imagine the drink of the gods would taste like

[autism-alley]

made something to snack on for watching the finale :)

[the-sun-always-comes-back]

"He's a Son of Poseidon!" "She's a Daughter of Apollo" "They are a child of Artemis and blessed by all the gods" "He's a child of Hades"

Yeah, yeah, we get it. But do you know what I want?

A child of Dionysus! Why you ask?

Well first of all, it would be fucking hilarious. Imagine hearing all those amazing stories about getting claimed by a magical sign in the sky and being all excited just for the grumpy camp director to show up and be like "yeah, don't worry and don't make a fuss, that's one of mine" and just leaves again.

Second, he doesn't seem like a complete asshat of a father? I mean, he's a god so he is a shitty parent but, he's the only god (except maybe post hoo Apollo) who actually cares about his children to the extend that he mourn for them. Remember when his son died in the fourth book of PJO? That wasn't pretend as far as I'm concerned. Or when he asks Percy to look after his son in The last Olympian because he (even though he doesn't say it out loud) can't stand the thought of loosing another child.

So yeah, maybe he doesn't get the "Father-of-the-year" Award, but he's definetly not the worst parent.

[Also, as far as I remeber he truly loves his wife, so your parents really must be something special and therefore you too]

And lastly: Amazing powers

Dionysus is the god of wine, theater and joy as well as fertility so you probably are really good at drinks and stuff. Probably have a green thumb. His children are quite popular due their theatrical tendencies that light up the conversations or mood. But this can be quite useful too.

Turning enemies into grapes, tie them up with vines and being very convincing due to their natural acting talents.

However Dionysus is also the god of madness, ecstasy and intoxication.

Sure, children of the big three are bloody powerful and I surely don't want to make enemies out of an Ares or Athena child but Dionysus?

Imagine having an opponent that can drive you into madness (literally) with just the snap of their fingers. Imagine fighting alongside someone who can turn your team into ecstasy and therefore increasing their motivation while at the same time intoxicating the enemies to a point where they loose their mind and can't stand straight.

Sure, breaking somebody's body good and well, but breaking somebody's mind and bending it to your will ? That is true power.

A/N: Since some people mentioned it, I know, that Castor and Pollux exist. I even mentioned them in this post. This is mainly about fanfiction. However I wouldn't mind having a canon story with a dionysus child as protagonist, but I really don't care if Riordan uses Pollux or invents a new one.

[therealgloomygirl]

req: Hi I really liked your fic with Athena and I would like the same fic with Hades if you don't mind. Thanks in advance!

yandere PJO! Hades x demigod! darling 💀🐺👑 - general hcs

I would like to start off by establishing that I truly and firmly believe that Hades would NEVER hurt you or torture you like some of the other gods and goddesses *agressive coughing* Athena, Ares and Hera *more aggresive coughing*

Well and truly he is too in love with you to even THINK about that

I mean have you seen how he reacted to Persephone hating him at the start of their relationship???

Anyways, I believe that the way you would meet is if you were a mother figure to Nico

Nico was immediately drawn to you, an older camper who had stayed back to help Chiron as a counsellor

You weren't afraid of him like most other councellors, rather, like Percy and Annabeth, you saw him as more of what he was; a child who just needed love and affection, a neglected and abandoned child who had to grow up too soon

He's rightfully suspicious and offstanding to you at first but if you act the correct way around him, he definitely takes to you

He starts opening up to you about different things, how he felt about his sister's death, how he felt about Jason's death and how he was struggling to see the point in anything

Comforting him at any time late in the night because he's anxious and depressed and being the one to introduce him to Will also helps :)

I think after he starts dating Will is when he takes you to introduce you to his dad because he finally feels like he has a mother

And that is when you, unfortunately, catch the attention of the Lord of the Dead himself

It's very very hard to gain Nico's trust, considering what he's been through, Hades knew you must have a heart of gold or atleast cared about Nico to have one around him

He finds you intriguing, the way you stand tall to him and only give him a stiff bow, how you roam about and talk to his ghoul servants with ease and of course, how well you're able to take care of and calm down Nico

So his inner stalker starts acting up and he starts sending his servants to spy on you, following you around in the darkness, watching you in the shadows, showing up in your dreams, resulting in them melting into nightmares

Waking up trembling and sweating because of the horrifying creatures and distant memories tormenting you :(

Hades hates tormenting (traumatizing) you but he can't really help it since he needs to know your routine to kidnap you

Actually, I don't know why I censored that, he does kidnap you

He basically sends his furies on your ass which sucks for you but he had no choice

Like imagine just having a quiet, comfortable time in your cabin, all alone with just a nice book and your favourite drink

And then screeching she-demons descend on you and literally drag you all the way to the underworld

Of course, you were having absolutely NONE of that, kicking and screaming

But he gets you eventually

As soon as they deposited you in your bedroom, the man himself comes to see you

Hades confesses to you immediately and tells you he loves you

You immediately remember the story of Persephone and shove him away in horror

From then on, it's just a never ending cycle of him trying to win you over with his wealth and confessions of undying love

Visiting your bedroom everyday with flowers from Persephone's garden

They're beautiful of course but that doesn't mean you'll forgive him

Chucking things from your incredibly expensive bedroom at him while he just stands there and stares at you sadly before leaving

Yelling at him and begging for him to take you back home but he just shakes his head no and apologizes to you over and over

This could go either of two ways, depending on the kind of person you are

1. You keep fighting against him until you finally give in, accepting your situation and deciding to make the most of it

2. You accept his love, thinking that it's better to have undying love than mortal love

He'll be delighted when you finally storm out of your room and go to his throne room, calmly informing him that you accept his proposal

He ADORES you

He's very clingy and he wants you in the throne room with him at all times

He's the kind of person to stare at you for hours and get completely distracted from his job

Like most of the times, you're gonna have to be the one to interview the souls who come to meet him because he's too busy gazing at you

He loves being romantic and will wake you up every day with flowers

He isn't very touchy-feely, he's more of a gift giver kind of person

I mean, he's the god of wealth for god's sake

He will literally get you ANYTHING you want

Even if it's sold out EVERYWHERE, he will personally commission Hephaestus to make it for you

Literally dream of anything, anything that you could possibly want and boom, the next morning, you wake up with it on your bedside table

All he wants in return is a little kiss every day and you telling him you love him

He's one of the gods who will let you roam the above world

He knows that he treats you so well, you'll come back to him anyways

He loves taking you on romantic dates to literally any place you want

Renting out the Eiffel tower just for the two of you is quite the common occurrence, it's his favourite place for a date <3

Complete gentleman, notices everything about you and will literally just chuck money at people, gods, ghosts and monsters alike to make whatever you want happen

Even the slightest show of affection from you is enough to make this poor god pass OUT

Like imagine picking a pretty flower from the above world for him and presenting it to him in the throne room??

He almost fainted of happiness and immediately ordered it to be planted in the royal garden so he could go and gaze at it for eternity

He's in the seventh heaven when you tell him you love him

For everyone wondering what's going on on the Persephone aspect of things, I think she'd be pretty damn pissed at first

Not only because he kidnapped ANOTHER girl

But also because that's her husband??

But unlike Minthe, he actually defends you and refuses to let her hurt you or turn you into a plant and crush you

Eventually, depending on your behaviour and attitude towards her, Persephone will either hate you but not do anything about it, learn to tolerate you OR she'll love you <3

Maybe a little too much....

I mean, you caught her husband's eye....so surely there's something about you that intrigues her too....

But that's a good thing!.....right?

Good luck to you if she ends up turning yandere for you because she is definitely not as soft-hearted and non-violent as Hades

Either way, living in the underworld turns out not to be so bad, especially when you can wander around in your choice of clothes all day, throw money around on things you want, living in a gigantic palace decorated to your design and basically do whatever you like in return for loving an actually really sweet god

Y'know, even if it IS completely filled with spirits and zombies

But that's just minor details in exchange for literally anything in the world....right?

Also, Cerberus ADORES you

Even if you have dog allergies, since he isn't technically a real dog, his 'fur' doesn't affect you

Will follow you around everywhere, begging for pets with all 6 of those cute puppy eyes

Also loves playing fetch :3

Once Nico found out that his father kidnapped you, his reaction was something along the lines of silent, shocked staring

"Nico...I can expla-"

"What. The. Fu-"

He gets used to it pretty fast, he's used to his father's weird, obsessive antics by now

And besides, it just means he gets to spend more time with you <3

I have this irrelevant hc that he likes dragging you with him to his father's throne room and giving him a forceful makeover, just to embarrass him

Hades puts up with it, mostly because he's a softie

In terms of punishments and such, the only time he'd really get pissed is if you tried cheating on him

Like he is so whipped for you that he is willing to let anything slide...except for disloyalty

Even then, the most he'll do is isolate you

He really can't keep himself away from you either

Mostly, he'll just send his minions to guard you a lot more

Which is just more inconvenient and annoying than anything mentally damaging

Overall, he's one of the tamest yanderes in terms of Greek gods

He really doesn't want to hurt you, he just wants you to stay with him forever

He's just clingy :)

[11queensupreme11]

I was thinking of baby Percy AU again and just thought of what would happen if Poseidon just… lost her in Valhalla. There was an emergency meeting, he forgot babies shouldn’t be left alone. Left unsupervised, Percy promptly toddled off towards the sunset (the human side of Valhalla) and gets lost amongst the masses. The encounters I’m picturing:

Leonidas chilling in his hammock, reading his book and drinking his wine only to reach down (to get a refill) and grab a baby instead of a bottle. There’s a baby lost in the Sparta training grounds and this man is panicking.

Adam eating his grapes with his family only for his ears to pick up the unmistakable sound of a baby babbling nonsense. He stands immediately and, without saying a single word to his wife or sons, just runs off and comes back cradling a giggling baby which he promptly places on his lap while saying ‘our daughter now’. His family only nods and goes back to what they were doing, as if this is completely normal (it probably is)

Nikola Tesla finds a baby playing among the detritus of his last failed experiment and decides he has found a new student to teach the art of Science(tm) to. She can’t even speak yet? No matter! It’s never too early to learn! Besides, don’t you know babies’ brains are like sponges?? He can teach her so much!

Sasaki Kojiro is out there in the wilderness, becoming one with nature (or whatever it is that he does when he’s not training - is there a time when that man ever stopped?) only to all but trip over a baby lost in the woods. What does a man who only has swords in his mind do?? Why, hand her a stick and teach her how to swing it.

(Almost predictably, Lu Bu does the exact same thing except they meet on the edge of a cliff and he tells her to aim at the sky)

Qin Shi Huang finds a baby blocking his path and instead of doing something normal (like stopping to make sure she’s alright, look around for the parents maybe), simply picks her up, at once recognizes her as a princess (royalty recognizes royalty) and continues on his merry way (he’s heading towards his adoptive mom’s house to show off the new subject/little sister he picked up on the way - he’s gonna teach her everything she needs to know about ruling).

Raiden finds baby Percy in a restaurant - specifically, he finds her well-fed round little body sitting inside a (now empty) plater she had crawled inside of when no one was looking. Raiden orders another plate and the two enjoy a very pleasant lunch together before he takes her back to the sumo training area so she can watch him wrestle everyone into the ground. Percy’s clapping the whole time.

Jack finds her lost and whimpering while skulking around in dark alleyways and, being the gentleman he is, immediately kneels down to offer her a handkerchief, picking her up and looking around for any sign of the parents (lmao, just realized he’s the only one in this list alongside Leo who’s going to make his top priority be finding Percy’s guardian first)

Meanwhile, at the god’s side of Valhalla:

Hades: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST HER.

Poseidon: I told her to stay put.

Hades: SHE’S A BABY POSEIDON.

Poseidon: And? I was a baby once too and followed orders perfectly.

Zeus: and look how you turned out.

(They enlist Anubis to track her down)

THE RAIDEN ONE WHERE SHE EATS EVERYTHING ON THE PLATTER AKSJFJHFBV I CAN JUST IMAGINE HER CHUBBY CHEEKS 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

and the nikola one.... i feel like she's actually grow up with more than one brain cell if nikola's the one that raises her (full offense to poseidon lol)

I LOVE EVERY SCENARIO HERE SO MUCH. THE ADAM ONE IS ACTUALLY PRETTY CLOSE TO WHAT HAPPENS IN ACT TWO LOL

i bet you after this incident, they're gonna create the "percy alert". its basically the amber alert, but it's only to look for percy lmao 💀

[granddaughterofdemeter]

could you write some hcs of piper mclean x gn!demititan reader (instead of being half god they’re half titan) who’s a bit insecure about their height. i imagine them to be just under 7ft, which can be inconvenient at times

drink some water, and have a good day! :>

I would love to drink water but my body just repels it 😭😭😭😭

Piper McLean x GN!Demi-Titan Reader

Piper doesn't understand why you're insecure about your height like any non-demi titan would. She tried to help you overcome your social anxiety by bringing you to Jason and Percy to compare heights as a 6'10 person.

Jason and Percy don't really appreciate the comparison but if it was to not get hurt from Piper make you feel better, it was worth it.

" [Name!] Can you get me the seasonings on top of the fridge?

"Sure, beautiful."

"I don't know why you put it up there so tall! No one can reach that high!"

"What are you talking about? YOU put it up there."

You were so thankful for her care about your insecurity, and though that wouldn't get better, Gods damn were you thankful for her.

banners creator posted on my pinned

[hopelesslyromanticshark]

mailbag!! for the event!!

franks mama, emily, had no idea she was fucking a god until after she found out she was pregnant

annabeth's step mother has a peanut allergy, but annabeth loves peanut butter. annabeth isn't mad about it, bc her step mom also them to have peanut butter, just away from her

estelle jackson (sallys mom) was also clear sighted, she just thought she had a vivid imagination

leo has so made a joke, where he has a candle and lights it with his flames

leos mom liked star trek thats why he was confused af when jason said vulcan and he thought it was a star trek ref

piper knows every mean girls quote

hazel likes f.r.i.e.n.d.s for no reason

nico always let his sister (or mother before she died) brush his hair, so hazel and will are the only ones allowed to brush his hair

persephone actually likes hazel, bc she reminds her of demeter when her mother was younger

beryls one night stands with zeus/jupiter were pity fucks rather than actual love

thalia swears a lot

luke is allergic to bananas

percy is a chronic insomniac, annabeth is a chronic sleeper

Hephaestus and ares sometimes forget theyre fucking aphrodite at the same time bc theyre too busy betting on which capture the flag teams gonna win

"nico i had a nightmare" "go back to sleep" "but dads sculpture keeps looking at me" "huh--oh shit thats actually creepy, um.. okay anyway--" = hazel and nico at some point in time

amphirite and sally get along rlly well

ares has a son called marcus and he thinks its cute but also funny (marcus means son of mars)

(pssst the even did technically close but i dont mind breaking the rules for you pookie)

also i love love love the hc that ares has a son named marcus that's so funny-

children of aphrodite are amazing public speakers bc it's largely based on emotions, which there very in tune with

frank carries a little bottle of maple syrup with him everywhere he goes 'just in case the restaurant doesn't have any.'

hazel starts to carry some too, 'just in case frank's runs out'

jason starts keeping a journal (it's a diary but he doesn't want to call it that lmao) after the whole juno thing bc he never wants to have his memories stripped of him like that again

nico wears ONE singular gold ring on his ring hand, for will

will cant wear rings bc doctor, but he's got a black one on a chain around his neck, something about it being like dogtags

a lot of children of aphrodite are like pan or similar sexualities because they just have so much love to share that they can't just love one type of person

leo, unironically, loves 'over the hedge'

percy is the girl scouts biggest supporter, him and his mom go crazy in the spring and march back to their apartment with their arms just stuffed with boxes of cookies

he through a fit when they raised their prices and wrote them a ragey email with the help of annabeth

percy takes blurry pictures of architecture things and send them to annabeth, asking her what it is, just to see her ramble about the things she loves, bro doesn't even care or understand completely frfr

coach hedge keeps a photo of leo, piper, and jason in his wallet. his babies frfr

leo still has nightmares from the wilderness school but piper is always there to comfort him

big sister behavior frfr

clarisse once unknowingly got into a fight with her father on twitter and won

luke throws up every time he drinks ambrosia bc it tastes like his mom's cookies and the thought of his momma makes him sick

charlie once made a dagger for silena with their initials etched into it. it know is proudly framed in cabin nine, a constant reminder that the children of hephaestus are deserving of love

roman demigods can't stand gyros and greek demigds would rather eat dirty socks than cesar salad

connor makes friendship bracelets for all the new campers that come through cabin eleven, so that they don't forget them when they get claimed

mr. d never gets over the lost of his son, even struggling to look at pullox on some days bc he looks too much like his lost boy.

chrion likes to play pattycake with the younger kids

[hide-in-imagination]

“It is said that there’s no such thing as coincidence" - Simbar oneshot

The sequel of Drunk!Simón is finally here! You asked for it, I delivered ;)

"A thrilling ending to the unplanned saga." - The New York Times. "Fluffy and sweet- Like cotton candy!" - The Washington Post. "How did you get inside my house?" - Rick Riordan, author of the Percy Jackson series.

----------------------------

Simón knew, from the very moment that he started regaining consciousness, that he felt like shit.

Waking up felt more like crawling through mud to return to the world of the living. The bed seemed to be moving, but it was certainly just him. His mouth felt completely dry, and the taste of it, some spoiled remnant of whatever he’d had last night, almost made him nauseous.

He didn’t want to open his eyes. He was fully awake now, which meant he recognized he was facing a very bad hangover, and the instant the morning sunlight hit his eyes, the headache he was barely managing to keep at bay would hit him like a truck.

Unfortunately, he had responsibilities, a.k.a his job, and after finding himself abruptly homeless, he did not want Gary to kick him out of his source of income too.

So, very slowly, and very reluctantly, Simón pulled his eyes open.

And paused.

…What?

Now, given how recently he’d ended up without a roof, he hadn’t gotten the time to get very acquaintanced with his assigned guest room, but he could’ve sworn the walls were not pink. The curtains were some cream color, not this dark black, he was sure of it. And why the hell would there be graffiti and pamphlets on a guest room’s wall?

He looked around and—

No.

Simón sat up, which made him wince from the answering pound in his head, but he had no time to focus on that because he knew this room. Even if it was changed, he knew it, he knew whose it was and—

Nonononono...

He had to be asleep, this had to be a dream. There was no way he was actually waking up after a night of drinking in a bed that wasn’t his own— THIS WAS NOT WHO HE WAS.

Simón Álvarez, what the hell did you do?

He checked himself. He was dressed— Thank god. There was no way he would’ve done something and then just dress back up to sleep, right? That wouldn’t make sense. If it had been only his boxers and a t-shirt then maybe, but why would he put his pants back on?

God, he couldn’t believe he even had to think these things.

A sound to his right beckoned his attention and his heart jumped as he saw Ámbar appear from her private bathroom. She came to a stop by the arched entrance of her closet when she saw him awake. Their eyes locked from opposite sides of the room.

She was in a nightdress, barefoot, no makeup. Her hair was still a little messy from sleep, and Simón’s heart squeezed inside his chest. Any other thought vanished for a moment. She looked so… soft. As simple and natural as a person could be. He’d never seen her like this. It was a level of domesticity he had never dared to imagine.

Well, what did you expect? You’re in her room. IN HER BED.

“Hi,” Ámbar said in a small voice. There was something unsure in her expression, in the way she looked at him.  

“Hi,” he replied in barely more than a whisper.

If she didn’t know how to proceed, then he sure as hell didn’t. He was still processing the fact that this was actually real and not some alcohol-induced hallucination. How had he ended up in her bed? Why wasn’t she saying anything? God, his head hurt so much.

“Um…” He started once it become clear that she wouldn’t. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing here. What am I doing here?”  

Ámbar stared at him quietly. Something in her face changed, but he couldn’t put a name to the expression on it. “You don’t remember?”  

He went to shake his head but quickly stopped as the barest movement made him want to die. “No,” he croaked with his eyes closed from the pain.

More silence. “Ah.”

That was all of Ámbar’s answer. Her voice sounded flat. Simón opened his eyes to take a gauge of her expression, but she was already moving, coming towards the bed. No, not the bed, he realized too late. In one instant, Ámbar had pulled the curtains open, filling the room with sunlight.

Simón shut his eyes and whined miserably. Yep, he was right, the sun was too bright.

“Well, you were very drunk, as you can already tell,” Ámbar commented. “How is that hangover working out for ya?”  

He couldn't see her, but Simón could tell she was smiling wickedly. God, why did her voice sound like she was screaming? Everything was too loud.

Simón groaned. “Not great.”

“Yeah, I thought so.” Her voice showed no sympathy whatsoever. “Well, when you feel up to it, please leave my bed, and my room,” she said pointedly. “I want to dress and start my day.”

Simón wanted to resent her attack on his retinas— and subsequently his whole system— but he knew he deserved that and the bite in her voice.

“Right, of course, I’m sorry, Ámbar.” He ran a hand down his face. “God, I can’t believe I ended up here. Did I steal your bed?” He looked at her through pain-squinted eyes. “Where did you sleep?”  

Ámbar turned her head towards him. She stared at him, long and almost…sad? But that didn’t make sense.

Then something in her gaze shifted.

“Why, Simón…” She said, her whole posture different now. “I know they say a gentleman has no memory but, you really don’t remember we slept together? That hurts.”

Simón’s brain collapsed. His heart had a car crash in his throat and got stuck there. “…Huh?”

“Well, for starters, we shared the bed, obviously, because I have nowhere else to sleep,” Ámbar continued easily. “And before that— Well.” She smirked. “Let’s say we shared it in other ways too.”

“Nonono, wait, you’re messing with me,” he said, clinging to reason in his agitated state. “I mean, I’m fully dressed, so how—”

“Yeah, you know, I was surprised too,” she said, moving to sit casually next to him on the side of the mattress as if they were discussing the weather. “I mean, you would think no guy could fall asleep when he’s got his head buried between your boobs, but apparently, the alcohol was stronger.” All blood drained from his face. “I’d be offended if it weren’t for how vocal you were about how much you were enjoying yourself.”

Simón’s heart raced life-threateningly fast. His brain eagerly provided images of what she was saying, which he was pretty sure were only imaginings and not actual recollections, but it mattered very little ‘cause his temperature raised all the same. Ámbar was practically leaning towards him on the bed to make matters worse. He glanced down, unable to help himself, and— Oh my god, no bra.

Simón looked away. “I— I don’t… I don’t remember anything like that.” He brought a hand to his temple. “Oh god, my head’s throbbing…” He whined, clenching his eyes. It hurt just to think.

“Yeah, that’s exactly what you said last night,” Ámbar said, making him swallow his tongue. “I would’ve helped you out with that, but it was a little sudden the way you jumped me, you know? And you were very adamant on doing me first.”

“WHA—” Simón grimaced instantly at his own loud voice, squeezing his eyes shut. He whined pathetically. “Shit…”

His head pounded at the rhythm of his heart, which was very fast right now. He wanted to die— Why did he even drink? He almost never drinks. Sure, Nico wanted them to say goodbye like that, but what they wanted was for him to not leave them and he did so anyway, so he could’ve said no and just grab a soda.

Nono, don’t think like that, it’s not his fault. The hangover was making him resentful.

He must’ve looked as bad as he felt because Ámbar’s voice softened.

“Wait, I’ll bring you something.”

He felt her weight leave the bed, and she must’ve gone to the bathroom because the next time he opened his eyes, she was nearing him with a glass of water and some painkillers in her hands.

“Here you go, it should make you feel better.”

She might as well have been an angel.

“Thank you,” Simón expressed with his whole heart as he received them. He shoved the two pills into his mouth and swallowed them eagerly. Please, god, just make it stop hurting.

He chugged down the whole glass of water, chasing away the disgusting taste in his mouth. He felt Ámbar’s eyes on him the entire time.

“You really don’t remember anything?” She asked after a moment.

Simón racked his aching head, trying to recall something. He remembered the bar… for the most part. They must have said goodbye to Nico at some point. Then he had a blurry memory of… a car? Maybe a cab or an Uber. Nico must’ve ordered it for them because they were in no state to.

So that was how they’d returned to the mansion. But he should’ve gone to sleep after that. If they got to the mansion together and Pedro went up to his room, why didn’t he go with him? Why didn’t he go to his guest room? Why did he end up in Ámbar’s room?

‘Why are you so cute?’

The distorted image came to him in a flash. Standing outside Ámbar’s door, her in her nightdress looking up at him with confusion.

Oh god.

Oh nonononono…

“No, nothing, all blank,” he said, keeping his gaze on the glass in his palms, and then turned to leave it on the nightstand just to not look at her.  

Oh god— Had he seriously asked her that?! Please tell him he hadn’t said anything else— Jesus Christ.

Ámbar hummed, and her gaze seemed lost for a moment as if she were thinking. She looked almost disheartened, staring out the window like that. Or maybe that was just how she looked when she was deep in thought.  

“I’m sorry for invading your bed,” he told her. Her face incited him to apologize.

She looked at him, and whatever look she’d had before quickly disappeared and turned into the impish one of before.

“Oh, I’m not sorry about that, it was great.” She ran her hand over his chest. “You can really be a beast when you want to, huh?”

“I-I- I don’t—” Shit, it was hard to think when she touched him like that. “Don’t tease me, Ámbar, we didn’t do anything,” he reprimanded her, making his voice sound stronger, but just as quickly, fear hit him. “…Did we?”

What if he’d really done something? He’d gotten to her room and called her cute— Something could’ve easily happened after that. Something like her laughing at his face, which, well, he wouldn’t blame her honestly, and he’d be very happy of having forgotten that.

But what if she didn’t laugh? What if something happened between them and now he didn’t remember?

That’d be such a pity…

No, wait, that wasn’t the issue!

“Maybe we did, maybe we didn’t... I feel like leaving you in the doubt,” Ámbar said with a mischievous smile.   

She stood from the bed again and walked to the door.  

“Where are you going?” He asked automatically.

Not like it was any of his business, and if she wanted to go tell Miguel to give him a scolding, he deserved that, but…

“I’ll bring you some food,” she said. “It should make you feel better.”

Oh.

His chest fluttered with affection but he felt too bad about this. “Oh, you don’t have to do that, I’ll leave right—” The moment he tried to stand, a hammer whipped his head from the inside.

Ouch…

Ámbar chuckled a little. “It’s fine. You just took the painkillers; it’ll take some minutes for the effect to kick in. You can stay until they do.”

“Thank you,” he said, still feeling guilty, but not moving really sounded like the best option for him right now.  

Ámbar walked over to close the curtains she had previously opened. Simón felt instantly better, letting out a sigh of relief.

“I’ll be right back.”

His eyes followed her until she left. Then it was just him, the quiet in the room, and his headache.

Simón laid his head down on the pillow and closed his eyes. God, what a mess. If he had known this was what would happen, he never would’ve had those drinks with the guys.

But… it wasn’t all bad. 

The circumstances weren’t the best, but this had to be the nicest interaction he’d had with Ámbar in some time.  The one from the previous day didn’t count— her talk about ‘impossible loves’ or whatever— because that hadn’t been a very happy moment for him, especially considering Benicio showed up.

Oh god, Benicio.

Simón brought his hands to his face. What the hell was he doing in Ámbar’s bed when she had a boyfriend? What was his drunk brain thinking? This was so wrong on so many levels.

He had to leave— As soon as possible. It didn’t matter if his hangover was killing him. It didn’t matter if Ámbar was—

Currently getting him breakfast… to bed because he felt sick…

Simón dropped his hands and opened his eyes. Ámbar was getting him breakfast— He couldn’t believe this. Like, sure, he’d imagined stuff like this about a million times, but he never thought it would actually happen!

She’d really gone downstairs just to bring him food— That was so…

So sweet— She’s so cute.

Simón slapped himself mentally. That was precisely the kind of thought that had led him into this mess.

But he couldn’t help it. He always turned stupid when it came to her. It was a little pathetic really. His heart always skipped a beat whenever he saw her, like it was a greeting, and he’d come to think of it almost like a dog, wagging his tail excitingly when his owner returned home. ‘Hi! Hi! I missed you! I’m so happy you’re back! Did you bring anything for me? Oh! A glance in my direction! You’re so kind! I’ll save this gift and cherish it forever!’

…Okay, so it was very sad.

He couldn’t stop his mind from wandering though. This whole situation— It’d be so nice if he weren’t sick, if it were intentional, if things were different between them. Waking up next to her, having breakfast in bed…

She looked so pretty, even just woken up. She always looked pretty. It was so unfair that she was this pretty. And she was so sweet when she wanted to be. And she looked so cool when she skated. And she sang so beautifully. And her hair looked so soft…

Yeah, okay, you’re in love, Simón, we got it.

Right as he thought that, Ámbar came back with a tray in her hands.

His heart jumped. He sat up in bed and tried to school his expression into nothing. The only thing that could make this situation more awkward would be if they started talking about feelings again.

She has a boyfriend, wants to destroy your team, likes to play with you but nothing more— Don’t forget.

“Okay,” Ámbar said as she came to sit on the bed and placed the tray carefully on his lap. “I brought you toasts with scrambled eggs, and a water bottle because I didn’t know if you could drink anything else.” She grabbed the bottle and placed it on the nightstand as Simón looked at his food. “Eggs supposedly help with hangovers— Something about protein.”

Yeah, he had heard about that. He grabbed one of the toasts and gave it a bite. The contrast between the crusty toast and the soft eggs was so good— He hadn’t realized he was so hungry until now.

“I know it’s very simple,” Ámbar continued, “but anything too heavy could upset your stomach… And, truthfully, I don’t know how to make anything else,” she admitted in a slightly shy voice. “The scrambled eggs were already an experiment, but I think they turned out pretty good.”

Simón’s breath caught. He lowered his hand and rose his eyes towards hers. “…You made this?” He thought she’d only grab whatever she found.

Ámbar looked away. “Well, since Mónica is now the owner and not the chef of this house, I guess she no longer wakes up before dawn to get everything ready for everyone. Better for me in this case though, because then I would’ve had to explain why I needed two breakfasts.”

Simón stared.

…Fuck.

There goes the remaining piece of my heart.

Unnerved by his silence, Ámbar finally looked at him. “What? Is it that bad? It’s not burned, it should be edible,” she said defensively.  

“Yeah, no, it’s—” Don’t cry, you stupid fool. “It’s very good, Ámbar, thank you.”

He busied himself eating to not say or do anything stupid. It really was good. The eggs needed a bit more salt for his taste, but it made him smile. She was probably worried about putting too much. It was so cute.

“Seriously, if you keep laughing at my cooking, I’m gonna kick you out screaming bloody murder and good luck explaining to everyone why you were in my room.”

Her threatening voice forced him to make his face blank. “I’m not. Sorry, Ámbar.”

As he kept eating— her first scrambled eggs, and she made them for him, he couldn’t believe it— Ámbar checked her phone casually, apparently scrolling through apps. He stole glances at her every now and then, nothing too long for fear of her finding him staring. He couldn’t help but think this was… very intimate, in a way. He wanted to grab Matteo and show him this for the next time he told him Ámbar did nothing but hurt people. She was taking care of him now, even when she totally didn’t have to. Leaving the teasing aside, she’d been very kind all morning considering other people in her situation would’ve kicked him out yesterday.

Just as he was finishing, Ámbar opened the water bottle and handed it to him. He accepted it with a thank you but didn’t drink right away.

He smiled. “You know what all this shows?”

“That you should never drink this much if you’re not used to it?” Ámbar guessed.

Simón smiled wider. “It shows that the Ámbar I know it’s still in there. No matter how much you try to hide it, you have a good heart.”

Maybe he imagined it, but he thought she got a little embarrassed before she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, okay, don’t get all Ethics professor on me— I just didn’t want you to throw up all over my room.” She took the tray from him and went to place it on her dressing table.

Simón blinked. That… really could’ve happened actually; it was a fair concern.

He brought the water bottle to his lips, drinking down half of it in one go and letting out a contented sigh. The rest he finished it more slowly, and Ámbar took the empty bottle once he was done.

She dropped it on the trashcan and sat on the bed again. “Do you feel any better?”

Simón realized he hadn’t thought about his hangover in a while. He focused on it now, and found the headache had weakened considerably. He no longer felt like his head was trying to kill him from the inside out, and his body felt less heavy, more energized than when he just woke up. He would still have to take it slow throughout the day—And probably wear sunglasses— but the worst seemed to be over.

“Yeah, much better,” he told her. “Not perfect, but that’ll take time. Thank you very much, Ámbar.”

He pulled the covers back and slid his legs over to the side of the bed. He couldn’t keep taking advantage of her generosity; it was time to go. He got up and was very relieved when standing on his own two feet didn’t hit him with a wave of dizziness. His body ached a little, and his head too, but it was manageable.

“Um,” he looked around the floor, “my shoes…?”

“On the other side of the bed probably.”

Simón went around the bed and found his discarded sneakers. As he put them on, Ámbar went to the bathroom with the glass she’d brought earlier, probably to leave it back in its place. Once with his shoes on, Simón stood again and, out of curiosity, looked at his reflection in the vanity’s mirror.

Holy… cow. He looked destroyed.

Yeah, I should definitely not drink this much ever again.

“Staring at your regrets?”

Simón straightened and turned to find Ámbar coming back from the bathroom, looking at him amusedly as he tried to fix what was once his hair.

“I apologize for making you see this,” he told her, only half-joking. “Why didn’t you tell me I look like death?”

“You were feeling like death; it was to be expected.” She sat on the bed and crossed her legs. “Plus, you saw me just woken up too and that look is awful.”

“Nah, you look beautiful.”

Ámbar stared at him with surprise and her face took a pinkish hue.  

Simón’s eyes widened. Shit, he said that without thinking!

“I mean, compared to me,” he hurried to say, shifting his tone into a joking one to lighten the air.  

“Right.”

“Like, who am I to judge, right?”  

“Right, yeah, I get you.”

The good news was that he’d made her so nervous that she was eagerly willing to go with that excuse. The bad news was, of course, that he’d made her nervous, and himself as well.

He laughed awkwardly until the sound died. “Well, uh, I should go,” he said then. He pointed to his right. “Do you want me to take the tray downstairs?” He offered.  

Ámbar stood. “Nono, don’t worry, I’ll do it later. I mean, you should probably go straight to your room to fix all that,” she joked, gesturing at him.

He chuckled. “Right.” 

They stood there in silence for a moment, just looking at each other. Simón knew he had to leave, but if he was being honest with himself, a part of him didn’t want to. This morning in this room seemed like a moment separated from the world. When he left, the antagonisms would be back, and the mocks, and the distance, the mistrust, and the longing.

His brain mixed the image of her now, staring at him in her nightdress, with the image of her last night at her door.

‘Why are you so cute?’

Right, the phrase that had started all this mess. And the one thing he could remember from the previous night.   

Simón looked down and cleared his throat. Then he took a breath, gathering his strength, and looked at her in the eyes. “Ámbar, I can’t go without asking you.”

Her eyes flickered with comprehension. Simón felt his nervousness rise. He was very scared to know— Just that little fragment he’d remembered was very embarrassing. But he had to ask, he couldn’t avoid this.

“Please be honest with me,” he begged. “In all seriousness, did I… say something or do something… weird last night?”

He didn’t have the courage to specify, but he knew she’d get what he meant.

His heart raced as Ámbar just looked at him for a while. What if she really just left him in the doubt? Or worse, told him he asked her to marry him or something? He honestly couldn’t put anything past him at this point if he called her beautiful while completely sober.

Finally, whatever Ámbar’s eyes held disappeared, and a little smile curved her mouth. “No. I was just messing with you.”

Simón’s shoulders sagged. “Oh, okay, good,” he said, relieved.

“You did hug me all the time we were in bed though; you refused to let me go.”   

It was at times like these that Simón thanked the universe for not being one of those who blushed, because otherwise, he would’ve looked like an apple.

“Oh— I— That’s— Force of habit!” He finally managed to say. “Because of my siblings! Yeah, we cuddle aaall the time. In Mexico we used to all sleep together like one big mass— We got very hot in the summer.”

Ámbar just nodded along through his rambling, her lips pursed. “Riiight. Of course...”

She clearly didn’t believe a word he said, and he couldn’t blame her.  

He reached for the door handle. “Anyway, thanks for letting me sleep with you. I MEAN, for letting me sleep it off here, I’m so sorry I bothered you, it won’t happen again. Um, yeah. I’ll see you at the Roller. And here. Because I live here now. And you live here, of course.” He let out a nervous chuckle. “Right. Anyway, bye.”

Simón made his escape and speed-walked all the way to his guest room— which was a long way because it was on the complete opposite side of the mansion— wanting to die.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid…

He was definitely not getting drunk again.

------------------------

It had been some hectic, hectic days. So many things had happened very fast.

This Open, for example. Simón couldn’t believe how fast it had been put together—practically overnight. No wonder Ámbar called it “The Flash Open” when she announced it to everyone in the cafeteria.

Ámbar, the new manager of the Jam & Roller.

As he said— Many things happened.

“Now, everyone, give it up for us girls!”

The crowd cheered at Ámbar’s request, and the girls— Ámbar, Luna, Nina, Jim, Yam, Delfi, Jazmín, Emilia— took their positions on the stage, each of them wearing a gown inspired by the 80s, the theme of this Open Music.

Ámbar looked right out of the movie Grease with her tight black costume and her curled blonde hair. She was more radiant than the spotlights, her presence so magnetic that it captured the attention of everyone in the crowd.

She looked gorgeous.

And she was looking at him.  

Simón felt his heart skip a beat every time her red lips sang a verse and her eyes found his across the room. These looks, or glances, had been a common occurrence lately. It wasn’t completely new— Matteo had noticed and warned him about it some weeks ago after all. But this was different. He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly. Maybe it was the way these looks lingered. Maybe it was that she no longer pretended not to notice or that she didn’t care.

Not since that day. Since that night he couldn’t remember.

No new memories had come to him since then. He only had an image, blurry and double-visioned, of Ámbar sited in front of him, but if they talked at all, he couldn’t recall it.

The song, ‘Mano a Mano’, ended with an explosion of applause from the marveled public. The girls took a small bow in thanks and left the stage, except for Ámbar, who grabbed the mic stand on the front and announced there’d be a small break before the next performance. She invited everyone to keep enjoying their food in the meantime and walked down the stage.

Simón saw her go up to Ramiro at one of the tables at the back and exchange a few words with him. Simón knew that the next number was Ramiro’s solo, so he imagined she was giving him some instruction for when he took the stage in a couple of minutes. Ramiro nodded and responded something with a smile. Jim, who was sitting next to Ramiro, said something to Ámbar next, probably a compliment on the show judging by the way Ámbar brought her hands to her chest in a thankful gesture. Then she left their table and walked to the dressing room, disappearing behind the closed door.

Simón, who was serving some juices behind the bar, left the now-filled glasses on top of the wooden counter and turned to Pedro, who was making a sandwich next to him. “Can you take these to table four? I’ll be right back.”

Pedro agreed with a simple ‘Sure’. Simón used a cloth to dry his hands quickly and left the bar. He went to the dressing room, opened the door, and then closed it upon entering.

Ámbar was sitting in front of one of the mirrors, apparently checking her makeup, when she saw him walk in. What could she possibly have to check, Simón had no idea— She looked perfect.

“Oh, Simón, hi,” she said, sounding a little surprised but not annoyed by his sudden appearance. She stood to face him correctly. “Is something the matter? Did we run out of supplies already?”

He chuckled at her worried-manager mode. “No, everything’s fine, everyone’s having a lot of fun.”

“I’m glad,” she said with a relieved tone. Simón had seen her very stressed organizing everything for this Flash Open, her very first event as the Jam & Roller’s manager. He guessed that, now that it was going so well, she could finally relax a little.

“Great performance, by the way,” he told her. “The girl’s team really wiped the floor with us.”

Ámbar chuckled. “Oh, you guys were great too… But yeah, we did.”

They laughed until the laughter died naturally, leaving them looking at each other in wavering silence. It wasn’t awkward, exactly, but it wasn’t often that they were alone like this, and it was clear neither knew how to act.

Simón averted his gaze for a second before meeting her eyes again. “Ámbar, I wanted to thank you for talking to Luna,” he finally said, the reason why he’d followed her here.

If Ámbar was surprised by the brought-up topic, she didn’t show it. She just smiled modestly and shrugged a little. “Well, I said I would, didn’t I?”

Simón’s heart fluttered. “…Yeah, you did.”

She put it so simple— And it was that simple, which was precisely what made him so happy. She promised to do something, and she did it. At least to that extent, he could trust her. He couldn’t have been sure of that last week. He was now.  

“She isn’t mad at you, is she?” Ámbar inquired with a bit of worry in her voice. “I tried to explain that you were just being nice to me and that’s why you didn’t tell her right away.”  

“She was a little vexed,” he admitted, “but we talked it out; it’s fine.”

She smiled slightly. “Good.”

The silence was back, except now it was awkward, at least for him because he’d already said what he came here to say. He could say other things. He could say many things, like how beautiful she looked, how he loved that she’d been smiling for real lately and not just falsely and sardonically; how happy he’d been when Luna told him, very surprised, that Ámbar had talked to her without any attacks or hostility; how he now, more than ever, wished things were different, because he was getting used to having breakfast and dinner with her, and he didn’t know what he’d do when he no longer had an excuse to see her so much.

But things weren’t how he wished they were.

“Well, um, I should get going,” he said, pointing behind him. “Got tables to attend to.” 

He turned toward the door, but her voice stopped him.

“Wait!”

Simón spun, finding Ámbar’s gaze. Her blue eyes looked unsure, nervous, and the hand that had reached for him pulled back quickly, joining the other, playing with fingers.

“I… I broke up with Benicio the other day,” she said in a timid voice. “I don’t know if you knew. I was going to tell you, but then I thought it might be weird to just… inform you of it out of nowhere. And then the Felipe Mendevilla thing came along…” She looked down for a second, but then her gaze returned to his, more certain, and her voice gained strength as well. “But I dealt with that, like you told me to. I talked to Luna, I organized this Open so everyone could get along, I… What else do I have to do so you give us another chance?”

Simón was left speechless. He’d noticed she hadn’t spent much time with Benicio lately, and he’s suspected, hoped, that was the reason, but he hadn’t had the courage, hadn’t thought it was his place to ask.

The scheme she’d orchestrated with her teammates to hide Felipe’s number from Luna had been a grim reminder of what Ámbar was capable of, that her first reaction to problems was pointing blame and revenge; resentment and often time misplaced fury. Simón believed she could fight against those things. He gave her the chance to, because he believed, deep down, she knew what was right, and she didn’t want to live ruled by anger forever.

He never thought she’d tell him this. That she’d stand in front of him, look at him in the eyes, and ask for a second chance, so directly. She practically admitted she talked to Luna just because he asked her to. That she did this Open Music, a whole event, just because she thought he’d like that.

“Ámbar…” Simón swallowed, tried to make his voice as gentle as possible. “I’m very happy about all the things you’ve been doing… But you can’t do them for me; it has to be because you want to do them,” he clarified. Otherwise, there was no point. He didn’t want her to change just to please him. It made him sad to think she’d force herself to do things just to win over affections that were already hers— That wasn’t the problem.   

“I do want to,” she affirmed, earnestly. “It feels… right. Like I’m putting my life in order,” she struggled to explain. “But one thing doesn’t erase the other. I can’t just…” she snapped her fingers, “flick a switch and stop thinking about what would make you happy. Because I want you to be happy. I want you to trust me again. I want…” She took two steps toward him. “You know what I want. You want the same, don’t you?”

She searched his eyes with her own. Simón could hardly breathe with the way his heart was pounding.  

Suddenly, muffled cheers and music flooded the room, making both turn. Ramiro’s solo had started. The song was extremely familiar to him, and so unbelievably too much for what was happening right now.

Simón grimaced internally.Right, Ramiro had asked him the other day if he could use ‘Tiempo de amor’ to dedicate to Yam. It seemed like a great idea at the time; of course he wanted his friends to make up, and he’d help in whatever way he could. Now he wished he hadn’t said yes because he couldn’t deal with all of this at once.

Out of all the possible timings…

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this now,” he said, trying to escape the situation. “The Open’s still going, and we’re gonna miss Ramiro’s performance— We better walk out.”  

Simón went to the door. This wasn’t the best timing; they could talk about it later.

“You said you love me.”

His hand froze on the handle.

Ámbar’s voice was soft, barely more audible than the muffled singing coming from outside, but her words went through him like a shock of electricity.

“That night you came to my room after Nico left. I almost didn’t sleep all night thinking about it.”

Simón turned, eyes slightly widened, heart almost in his throat.

“I still don’t know if you meant it,” she continued. She was looking at the floor, her expression more vulnerable than he had seen on her in months. “They say drunk people always say the truth, but you were falling asleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about it though. And the other day you said, ‘The Ámbar I like knows it was wrong’. And I remembered that night, and I…” Her eyes rose to his hesitantly. “I wanted, want, to be worthy of that feeling. I want you to be able to say it not only when drunk and half-asleep, without guilt or fear or anything, because I… feel the same way. About you.”

If the ground had cracked open at that right moment, if the very sky had fallen down and flattened the world as they knew it, Simón didn’t think he would have noticed.

Maybe he’d died, because he wasn’t sure of what was real or if he was breathing.  

“Unless you didn’t really mean it, in which case, it’s only me,” Ámbar said at his lack of response, with wry amusement, as growing insecurity and embarrassment leaked into her face. “You know what? You’re right, we’re missing Ramiro’s performance, I’m a bad friend, let’s get out of here.”

She went for a swift escape through the door, but Simón stood in front of her and blocked her way.

“Do you mean it?” His heart was going to burst. “Do you truly mean it?”

“I…” Ámbar looked totally nervous. Then she shut her face completely, looking away. “Alright, no— That’s it. I’ve said plenty and all you’ve done is just stand there, so I’m not speaking anymore. If you heard me, great, if not, also great. I don’t—”

Simón grabbed her face and kissed her with all his heart, which was a little difficult with how hard he was smiling, but he persevered because—

“I love you,” he said ecstatically, coming back to her lips over and over. “I love you, I love you.”

It was like he was saying it for all the times he wished to and couldn’t.

Ámbar got over her surprise and melted up against him, responding to his affection with more and more of it, tangling her hands in his hair, grabbing his shoulders.

Simón had told her, just a few days back, that what she felt wasn’t love. Real love, after all, didn’t make you want to manipulate the other person using trickery, jealousy, or empty sugared words. He’d been convinced, back then, that she only saw him as the object of a game, a challenge she wanted to win.

But this— How could he deny this? The vulnerable look in her eyes, her wanting to be better for him; not to get him but truly for him, so that the feelings he had for her were something he could be proud of. That was love. And while that didn’t change that they had their differences, and it didn’t promise things would be easy from now on, as long as what she felt for him was true, Simón was willing to face anything.  

He curled his arms around her waist to hold her close. The kiss was soft like her lips, but eager, non-stopping, betraying how much both of them had needed this for a long time. Ámbar’s hands cradled his face, followed the shape of his jaw, the curve of his neck, like she was trying to memorize them. Simón opened his mouth and swallowed her sigh as their tongues touched, slowly, only graces. Her arms wrapped around his neck and the world ceased to exist.

That, of course, until the stage door opened.

Hypnotized as they were, it took them a second too long to jump apart, and by that point, Ramiro was already looking at them with an impish grin.

“Aah, so that’s why I had to present myself for my performance,” he said beyond amused. “Should I tell Luna to do the same or are you two done sharing saliva?”  

Simón’s heart was now speeding for a completely different reason. He cleared his throat, trying to vanish the embarrassment, while Ámbar ran her fingers rapidly through her hair in an attempt to fix her appearance.    

They looked at each other. “Uh…”

“I should—” She pointed to the stage.

“Yeah, of course—”

“Because I’m the manager and all—”

“Yeah, I mean, I also have to—” He pointed to the cafeteria.

“Right.”

The nervousness was so palpable that it suffocated the room. Ramiro looked from one to the other, seeing how neither of them moved.

“Okay…” He said slowly. “Well, I’m gonna go.”

He escaped through the door to the cafeteria, luckily leaving it closed so they were alone once more.

Simón rubbed the back of his neck and turned to Ámbar. Her lips were pressed together awkwardly as she looked around the room at nothing in particular. Then her gaze met his, and he didn’t know who cracked first, but they started laughing.  

Simón went for her and kissed her again, one long touch and then a bunch of smooches down her cheek and neck.

Ámbar giggled, pushing him away. “Come on, stop it or we’ll never get out of here.”

He smirked. “Is that a threat or a promise?” 

“Behave,” she ordered him, raising her brows in warning.   

“Yes, boss.”  

His words curled her lips, breaking her act of seriousness, and he kissed that smile with his own.

“Gosh, and I thought your drunk self was bad,” Ámbar said with amusement, not making the smallest movement to get out of his arms, which, really, only rendered her complaint invalid.

“Speaking of that— You lied to me,” he called her out, but there really wasn’t any anger behind it. “You said I didn’t do anything that night.”

“Well, what did you want me to do? You looked like you were going to die of embarrassment; if I told you, you would’ve never looked me in the eye again,” she defended herself.  

He smiled playfully. “And what a shame it would’ve been to miss out on these eyes, huh?”  

She rolled her eyes. “You’re insufferable.”   

His face softened. “No.” He caressed her face. “I’m happy.”   

Ámbar looked into his eyes, and her gaze melted into such adoration it made his heart sing.

She kissed him this time, in a way that said without saying it ‘me too.’

Cupping his face, she pulled back. “Go,” she told him quietly, with a small but beautiful smile adorning her mouth.

Simón decided to obey this time, and only stole one more peck before going to the door.

He stopped by the threshold, spinning toward her. “See you after this? Or are you gonna be too busy, miss manager?”

Ámbar smiled sweetly. “I’ll make time for you. Always.”

And, man, that phrase, that look in her eyes…

It made a thousand hangovers worth it.

…

..

.

-----------------

Me: It would be great if ‘Tiempo de amor’ played during this.

My brain: But isn’t that extremely too convenient?

*God’s enlightenment coming through my window*

Me: …No. It’ll be fine: I’ll call it out on the title.

(It is still* too convenient, and truth be told, now after a whole year since I came up with this, I don’t even like it that much anymore sdkjnf. But changing it would’ve taken longer so I just thought, whatever, let’s go with Past Me’s idea. I mean, I’ve always wanted that song to play by the end of something. It’s such a ‘roll the credits’ song! Disney missed an opportunity and I’ll die saying it.)

Also, only I can come up with a sequel that's three times the size of the original oneshot 😂😂 Jesus, I just can't keep it short, now can I? 😂

Hope you liked it! To be honest, I loved this a lot; I feel like it's the fluffiest thing I've ever written.

[nerd-at-sea5]

milk and feelings

thalia figuring out her feelings and then reyna confesses (in a way, thalia does as well) and then they kiss.

its cute i promise i just can’t summarize shit

thalia had grown to hate the campfires.

every single night, maybe she liked it the first few times, but the romans were here for jason’s funeral, and everyone was drinking themself to hades and back.

she couldn’t stay with the hunters. if she did, she’d watch everyone she loved die. she couldn’t do that, she would have killed herself.

not many campers were even of age, but she didn’t think mr. d gave a shit.

thalia hated alcohol.

for as long as she can recall, she’d see girls in magazines and movies with their wine and beer, and she’d see her mother...and everything felt like a curse.

so how the hell did she get roped into a drinking game with leo.

‘milk for thalia because she doesn’t like beer.’

even without the drink her stomach is doing flips, godsdam campfires.

reyna’s smiling face across the camp, soft and easy-relaxed, thalia would say, her face illuminated by the fire, she looked like an angel.

godly, if thalia was allowed to say.

like that time she saw aphrodite-oh shit.

“thals? how are you choking on milk?”

“i-nothing, nothing.”

she didn’t sound convincing, the glimpse from years ago at the goddess, she’s been convinced it was a boy with long hair, a boy with those clever, brave brown eyes, a boy, a boy.

it was never a boy.

it was never a boy. percy grinned, leaning on piper slightly, who shoved him off, “chill percy, i’ve got a girlfriend.”

“THALIA STOP CHOKING ON THE FUCKING MILK!!!”

“sorry!!”

annabeth looked at her warily, and leo spoke before her, “what-your against gay people?!”

thalia froze, and saw percy’s gaze harden, and she felt herself blush, “no! what the hell leo?! no...i didn’t...i just didn’t know-i don’t.”

piper giggled, “you don’t know shit about gay stuff, do you?”

the daughter of zeus shook her head, feeling extremely out of her element.

“i know some. i know what gay and lesbian mean, and i know what being trans is. that’s kind of it....”

percy snickered, “well, i’m bisexual, and if you didn’t know-i did like luke. but he’s a bitch and you can’t really fuck a corpse.”

frank looked up at him, surprised, “i-”

annabeth rolled her eyes, “i’m also bi, you know.”

“i’m pan! pan-piper, like that guy with his flute.”

leo raised his hand, “i’m pan and trans!”

“i just don’t feel a sexual attraction, so..i’m asexual.” hazel said, shrugging, and thalia could imagine nico going ‘good.’.

she nodded, “thanks guys....”

her head was pounding at her, and she was convinced there was something in her milk.

“leo is there something in here?”

the boy shrugged, “prob not, why?”

“my head wants to blow up.”

reyna walked over, “we can go over to a smaller fire?”

hazel giggled, “you don’t like us?”

reyna gave her a small smile, “yes, i do, but thalia’s interesting.”

thalia’s stomach twisted again, but she nodded, “yeah, i’m interesting. suck it.”

piper flipped her off.

she always felt normal around the daughter of bellona, but now, thalia felt like a knife had hit her in the stomach.

it was like she was filled to the brim, and she was going to burst at any moment.

and, and oh gods reyna looks so beautify sitting closer and gods she was nice enough to invite thalia to sit alone, and she’s always helping others and-

“thals? are you alright?”

no, i’m not okay, your really fucking attractive and i-“yeah, i’m good, you good, rey?”

reyna rolled her eyes, “you are the only person alive who calls me that....”

“i’m that special?”

“do you always flirt with people like this?”

thalia almost choked for the third time, a) holy fuck has she been flirting with reyna?! and b) did reyna sound....hopeful?

“i-”

“what’s going on, thals? you seemed to shocked when i walked over and you-”

“i think i’m a lesbian and i don’t know what to do because your really fucking pretty and i honestly and so fucking scared right now and i don’t know what to do so yeah. i’m kind of panicking.”

thalia couldn’t stop talking.

“and-and hearing everyone else talk about that stuff, i just-it it really that easy? my mom would have killed me, and i just...i just...i hate this feeling but it’s also so comforting.”

she froze and slapped herself in the face, forgetting she was holding a glass of milk.

she quickly wiped her face, gods of olympus, why had she said that?!

why hadn’t she stopped?!

it probably wasn’t even true! thinking that a girl was pretty didn’t mean anything and....gods.

“i-I’m sorry-i didn’t-”

thalia’s regret veered off the line when she saw reyna’s face shining slightly.

holy hades.

before thalia knew what was going on, she was being hugged.

and it didn’t feel like a normal hug.

it felt warm and comforting and...and it felt like home.

she didn’t realize she’s pressed her face to reyna’s collarbone, and she’s crying-hephaestus she’s being so open right now-

reyna pulls away, her face still shining and thalia finds her self, oddly enough, wishing she’d be hugged again.

“sorry..i don’t know what i was thinking.”

thalia gave her a small smile, “it’s fine. i liked it-wait-fuck.”

reyna laughed softly, and thalia’s breathe quickened.

holy hera what was this girl doing to her?!

“so did i.....thank you-for saying that. i know you didn’t really...well...seem to be happy with yourself, but...” reyna shrugged. “i guess it felt good to hear someone else say it?”

“what do you mean?”

the other girl wrung her hands together, “i don’t get the pleasure feeling of sex, i never liked it as much as other girls..or boys said....but then my chest and stomach keep fighting when i see you. i don’t know if i’m broken or if it’s just-”

thalia stopped her, “okay-well, your not broken. that’s bullshit, your beautiful and amazing and-and what was hazel saying.....asexual!”

“what?”

“um-she said it means you don’t feel a sexual attraction and she’s still dating frank, so i’m assuming it means you can still date people! not that it matters, whatever you want to do is perfectly fine.”

now she was going on about something she didn’t really know.

thalia rubbed the back of her head nervously, glancing around, slightly surprised that no one had eavesdropped on their conversation.

“nervous?”

“just....people.”

“ah. very descriptive.”

“wow, reyna? sarcastic?”

“cute, thals, real cute.”

thalia froze.

okay, fuck it-she’s doing something about these feelings.

before she could talk herself out of it, the blue and black haired girl grabbed the other’s wrist, standing and pulling her to behind the zeus cabin.

then she panicked, what the hell was she doi-

shut up, internal monologue. “can i kiss you?”

“um-”

thalia was shorter than reyna, by at least three inches.....three.

“yes.”

and the twisting stopped, and reyna’s hand was on her neck and for the first time in her life, kissing boys on the run because had nothing to loose, everything paled, for the first time in her life, everything made so much sense.

everything felt so...good.

she could feel wood on her back and was vaguely aware that she was standing up at tall as she could.

it didn’t matter.

nothing else mattered.

everything made sense.

they broke apart, and thalia found herself smiling like an idiot, “’no demigod shall heal your heart.’ well, reyna avila ramirez-areallno, how does an ex-immortal hunter sound?”

the roman laughed, her joyful, clear and pure laugh, “it sounds pretty fucking perfect.”

right before they kissed again.

[yoramkelmer]

Hogwarts Overexposed Chapter 12: Follow the Money Trail

Finally, we have reached the chapter where the most infamous shit of the fic and the Saga as a whole begins.

And I love how in a fic thats called "Salazars return", Salazar Slytherins actual return isnt the thing the fic is most notorious for.

When we last left off, the American students from the Salem Witches Institute have arrived, and Emily seemingly had an accident.

"I'm okay, at least thus far," Emily exclaimed, "but don't worry about me. Look at the American team." "What about the American team?" Kim turned her attention to the advancing group. "Oh my god, they all look like they're parading about in their underwear," Kim exclaimed aghast. "Plus, their robes look more like capes. Are they all dressed to look like Superman and Wonder Woman for Halloween?"

Like other sporkers noted, the references to Superman and Wonder Woman aren´t as out of place as they first would seem, as Kim is Muggle-born and Emily was raised in the Muggle World. "Their attire is outlandish," Emily agreed, "but that's not what I'm referring to. Look at the boy in the last pairing; the one walking beside the nice-looking blonde."

Who could it be? Kim looked in the direction Emily had indicated and then froze. The boy and girl appeared to be very embarrassed by their garb, but at the same time were talking and pointing animatedly at the castle, obviously extremely impressed with Hogwarts. Kim immediately recognized the boy; they had become good friends on the cruise. "It's Brian," Kim said in a stunned voice, as the American group passed. "He's a wizard!"

I honestly can´t get over how she´s so surprised over something that´s been foreshadowed to the point it could be seen as a parody of foreshadowing.

"Only witches and wizards can turn into ghosts" - how would a in-Universe Muggle know that? Kim and Emily filed back up the steps with the other Hogwarts students and then, for Emily's sake, made a hurried pit stop in the nearest girls' bathroom before entering the Great Hall and sitting down for the Halloween Feast. The students from Salem had chosen seats at the Hufflepuff table. They all sat discomfitly looking around the Great Hall with overwhelmed expressions on their faces.

Be prepared for a cliché-storm incoming.

By the time the first Hogwarts Exposed fic was written, the whole trope of "American exchange students at Hogwarts had already become almost a parody of itself. The Great Hall, as usual, was decorated festively for Halloween. Pumpkins hanging in mid air illuminated the hall as thousands of live bats fluttered about. Occasionally the bats swooped over the tables in low black clouds.

Ah, the rare instance of actual descriptions of things. "Why is Filch adding three chairs to the staff table?" Kim wondered aloud.

Kim, why are you surprised by that? "Not sure," answered Emily. "One might be for that paunchy person that accompanied the American team. I can't imagine whom the other two are for."

This is the first time that person is actually mentioned.

And yes, I had to check the previous sections and the last part of the last chapter to make sure I didn´t miss anything.

Once the students had all settled down at the House tables, the staff entered and filled the top table. Kim's question concerning the extra chairs was soon answered. Snape entered follow by Percy Weasley, the American chaperone and ...a third person that appeared to be neither a man nor a woman.

Aaaaaaand this is where the person actually gets mentioned - it seems that Neil simply can´t write.

As if we didn´t get that the previous two fics.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and guests," said Snape. "I hope your stay with us will be most enjoyable. The contest will officially open at the end of tonight's feast. Now, please, eat, drink, and make yourselves comfortable"

"I wonder how far we're allowed to go in regards to making ourselves comfortable?" Emily asked with a laugh.

I´m surprised it took this long to get a nudism reference in this chapter.

"Not as far as you'd like," Kim said as the plates in front of them filled with food. The house elves in the kitchen had once again outdone themselves; there was a much larger than normal variety of dishes to select from.

Dishes we won´t get to know exactly.

"I can't get over the fact that Brian is a wizard," Kim exclaimed.

You already said that.

"I can't get over the getup that he and the others are wearing," Emily said. "That can't possibly be their school uniform. It must be a special costume for the events, but who would pick such awful outfits?"

"Maybe that person sitting to the left of Professor Snape," Kim suggested. "Is that a very feminine man or an extremely homely woman?"

And for the sake of funny, I´m gonna imagine that person to look like Divine.

Emily shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not sure which would be worse."

.....why would either be bad in the first place?

Yeah, it´s just Neils homophobia again.

As they ate, most of the students seemed to be nervous and constantly watching the staff table with anticipation.

"Is it just me or is this feast taking a great deal longer than usual?" Caitlin asked as she played with her food.

"I think everyone is eager for the selection of the team to take place," Jamie answered. "Look! Filch is bringing in the goblet. It shouldn't be much longer."

Come to think of it, I don´t think Filch is appearing again after this chapter.

"What qualities do you imagine the goblet will be looking for?" Caitlin asked. "I would imagine that seventh years would have a much better chance of being selected."

Way to tempt fate, Caitlin.

"Not necessarily," Jamie said. "A team needs members with varying talents and abilities."

Talents and abilities that never really will get shown, apart from showing that Jamie Sue is always right.

Finally the golden plates returned to their original spotless state and Snape stood up. Tension seemed to fill the hall. "The time has come to select the Hogwarts team, but before we do, a few introductions and some explanations are in order," said the Headmaster.

Does this sound like something Snape would say?

"Let me introduce our guests seated at the staff table: Mr. Percy Weasley, interim Minister of Magic" - there was polite applause - "Mr. Bud Ryan, coach for the American team" - again a polite response - "and Mr. Rishard Simone, Facilitator of Games from the International Committee of Magical Games and Sports."

"Does that answer your question?" Emily whispered to Kim. "It's a guy. A very short guy with a dyed blonde, curly Afro, fake bronze tan, tight short shorts and shaved legs."

Rishard Simone, as I learned several months after I first read the Sporkings, is seemingly a expy of Richard Simmons, for some really bizarre reason.

Despite this, I still keep imagining Rishard Simone to look like Divine for the sake of funny.

There was a louder applause for Mr. Simone than for the others, but there was also a spattering of inappropriate wolf whistles. Headmaster Snape gave the students a stern look, but it was not close to the severity with which Percy Weasley was looking at him. Obviously Percy had not appreciated being introduced as the temporary Minister of Magic.

I don´t really remember Percy appearing in the fic again after this chapter, actually.

"If that big guy is the American coach, who is the Hogwarts' coach?" Caitlin asked.

Jamie just shrugged her shoulders and put her finger to her mouth, indicating for Caitlin not to talk.

Department of redundancy department.

As per usual.

"The teams will be challenged by three tasks, spaced throughout the school year," Snape announced. "These tests will involve daring, deduction, magical prowess, danger, but most importantly they will test your ability to cooperate and function as a team.

"Now, then, before we select the team to represent Hogwarts, I would like to introduce the students from The Salem Witches' Institute representing the United States. When your name is announced, please come up to the top of the Hall and enter the chamber behind the staff table."

Btw, only two of the American students get named, the others are more or less just background characters with no purpose and personalities.

Headmaster Snape produced a sheet of paper from his pocket and started reading names. As he announced each person's name the student rose from his or her seat and proceeded toward the staff table and then the chamber. The Hogwarts students seemed to be paying little attention to the introductions; instead they were attentively staring at the American's in their revealing uniforms.

Are you beginning to notice a read thread?

"How can they breathe in those outfits?" Amanda remarked. "They almost look sprayed on."

"It would be better if they were," Jamie remarked. "At least then they could move freely about. They all seem extremely self-conscience and embraced. Embraced? How many betas were there again? That poor girl's uniform appears much too small for her," Jamie said, indicating a girl walking toward them.

"Oh my!" Amanda cried. "She has a severe camel toe."

FUCK YOU NEIL

"A what?" Caitlin whispered questioningly.

"When clothing is so tight in the crotch area that the shape of the vagina is unmistakable, it's sometimes referred to as a camel toe," Jamie enlightened her.

"What's it called for guys?" Caitlin asked, staring fixedly as a boy about her age neared them.

"Oh my god! That's Brian from the cruise. I wonder if Kim and Emily have seen him?"

What are the odds?

When Caitlin looked toward the Slytherin table, it was evident by their frantic waving and pointing that the girls had indeed noticed Brian.

After the two reserves for Salem who will never be named were announced and had entered the chamber, Snape surveyed the hall. "Now it is time for the goblet to make its decision. The first six names selected will be the team starters. The last two names will be the alternates.

Oh, this is gonna be fun. Or not.

"As your names are announced, please go through into the next chamber and wait with our American friends."

Again:

Does this remotely sound like something Snape would say?

Snape took out his wand I almost forgot this was a Harry Potter fanfic and that magic is supposed to be a thing here and gave a sweeping wave, plunging the room into a state of semidarkness. All the candles except those inside the carved pumpkins were extinguished.

How specific.

Everyone watched and waited breathlessly. The Goblet of Fire was now everyone's focal point, shining brightly with its sparkling bright, blue-white flames. Suddenly the flames inside the goblet turned red. Sparks began to fly and then a charred piece of parchment shot into the air. The entire room gasped as Snape caught the piece of parchment.

I think most of this is taken directly from the fourth book.

"The first team member for Hogwarts is from Gryffindor. Jamie Zacherley, please come forward," he announced.

Wow, what a huge surprise that the Main Sue is on the team!

"No shocker there!" So obvious that even the characters in-Universe acknowledge it. Shouted Amanda happily, as she embraced her best friend. Jamie rose from the table to a thunder of applause; ALL HAIL TO THE MARY SUE she walked hurriedly to the front of the hall, a pink glowing slasher smile on her face. Jamie walked along the staff table and then entered the door into the next chamber.

"I knew she'd make the team," Emily said proudly. "I'd love to be on it with her."

"I'm sure you'll make it," Kim said encouragingly.

I guess the fact that Emily won´t make it is supposed to be a big twist here.

As the clapping subsided, everyone again focused on the goblet, which once more turned red and shot out a second piece of parchment.

"The next member is from Hufflepuff," said Snape, "Jeffrey MacDowell."

Wow, a Hufflepuff. What a surprise.

At first Jeff remained seated as if not believing his ears. Then after prodding from his mates, he jumped to his feet and practically ran to the front of the hall.

Btw, I think it´s at this point that Neil forgot that there previously had been introduced another Jeff at the nudist cruise.

"Do you know him? What year is he in?" Caitlin inquired of Amanda.

"He's a fifth year," Amanda answered. "I don't know him that well, but he seems like an okay sort."

He´s never gonna appear again after this fic so he won´t get that much focus aside from being one of Jamies simps.

"Our third competitor is from Gryffindor, Caitlin Potter," Snape announced.

"Me!" Caitlin exclaimed. "I don't have an athletic bone in my body."

Wasnt it repeatedly stated earlier that athletics werent that relevant in the overall picture?

"Evidently the goblet thinks you can help out the team," Amanda said, beaming and giving Caitlin a quick hug.

Well, she actually does a big help in one of the tasks. A rather explosive help, if you ask me.

"Caitlin and Jamie are both on the team," Hermione said clutching Harry's hand tightly. "They're going to be thrilled when they find out that you're coaching the Hogwarts team."

"I'm worried about Emily," Harry said looking out over the hall. "With Jamie and Caitlin on the team, I'm afraid she'll be dreadfully disappointed if she doesn't make it."

Shut up, Harry Stu, the world does not revolve around that brat. Hermione nodded her head in agreement.

As usual. "Donald Thomas from Ravenclaw is next to join the team," Severus declared.

The most irrelevant character on the team, everyone. "I bet no one from Slytherin will even make the team," Kim declared. "Our house isn't exactly known for support and teamwork."

Way to tempt fate, Kim. "Didn't the Headmaster say that each house would be represented? Emily asked. Before Kim could respond, a tongue of flame shot into the air and another piece of parchment fluttered out. "From Slytherin House, Kim Thatcher," Snape declared.

Dun dunn dunnnnnn Emily hugged Kim as the Slytherin table burst into applause. "That goblet has got to be crazy," Kim said as she dizzily got to her feet and staggered toward the head table.

Yeah, I also don´t necessary get why Kim was selected, but apparently two Mary Sues on the team were not enough. The clapping hadn't yet died down when the sixth piece of parchment shot out of the goblet. "The final member of the Hogwarts starting team is..." Headmaster Snape paused, as if not believing his eyes. "From Slytherin House, Dick Bancroft?"

Okay, apart from what a jerkass move it is from Snape to show how surprised he is from that, I also can´t help but laugh at it because the image of Snape doing this with big eyes is rather hilarious. At first the hall was quiet. Even the Slytherins seemed shocked by the selection of Bancroft. Finally as Dick got smugly to his feet, the Slytherins burst into cheers. The other houses gave a short polite spattering of applause.

Dick Bancrofts reputation within Slytherin itself is so inconsistent, at one moment most of them hate him and his obsession with Jamie, yet at the same time they let him do initiation rites with pureblood supremacist rhethorics.

I guess it´s just a case of BECAUSE THE PLOT SAYS SO "The next two names out of the goblet will be the team reserves," Snape announced. "Should, during any event, a starter be physically unable to compete one of the reserves will take their place." "The first reserve," Snape said, grabbing the bit of parchment from the air, "is Nora Jordan from Ravenclaw." Immediately another fragment shot into the air. "The second alternate is Lee Wilson from Hufflepuff."

At least these reserves get relevant in the plot, unlike the nameless Americans. "How does Emily look to you?" Hermione asked worriedly. "It's hard to say," Harry answered, trying to conceal his own concern. "It must to be terribly disappointing for her not to have made the team when her best friend and sisters all did."

I don´t care.

* * * * * *

Jamie quietly opened the door and stepped into a smaller room, lined with paintings of witches and wizards, many of who smiled happily and gave her encouraging gestures.

Remember, this is supposed to be a Harry Potter fanfic!

On the opposite side of the room, the American team was grouped around a fireplace in which a handsome blaze was roaring. They were occupied in conversation and didn't seem to spot her enter the room. Jamie remained near the door transfixed. The firelight had the effect of making the costumes worn by the Americans seem almost translucent.

It seemed like only moments before Jeffrey MacDowell, bursting excitedly into the room, broke her trance.

"Everyone knew you'd be selected," he said breathlessly to Jamie, "but I never dreamed I'd make the team."

"Obviously, the goblet has more faith in you than you do in yourself," Oh, shut up Jamie! Jamie said, embracing Jeff in an sincere hug. "I'm sure you'll do fine."

"Maybe!" Jeff said. "Just so I don't have to wear a costume like theirs. Did you notice the bottom part is actually a thong?"

The red thread.

"It is!?" Jamie said shocked. She hadn't actually noticed due to the capes draping that area of the body. Jamie now tried to get a better look at the attire being worn by the American's without actually staring blatantly at any of the students.

The costumes were unisex and appeared to share the qualities of a muscle shirt and a thong in one extremely tight and body molding piece. It was a garment she would more expect to find on the French Rivera than in a wizard school competition.

Oh, the horrors!

Yet I wonder why even in the Wizarding World they would let mostly underaged teenagers wear this stuff at a school competition.

"I wonder how the girls manage to keep their breasts from popping out the sides of those tops," she said matter-of-factly.

Jeff blushed. "I was wondering the same thing," he said eagerly, his eyes coming to rest optimistically on Jamie's full chest.

Because Jeff is a pervert too.

Neil, most men don´t do this so blatantly like all the males in the Hogwarts Exposed Saga!

The door opened and Caitlin hesitantly walked into the chamber. Jamie rushed to the door and embraced her tightly. "This is great," she said enthusiastically. "We're going to be on the team together!"

When Jeff burst into the room, it had attracted Brian's attention. Since then, he had been staring fixedly at Jamie. He couldn't get over how much this girl looked like Kim's older friend from the cruise. What were the odds of that happening? When Caitlin entered the room, he broke from his team and hurried over to the forming Hogwarts group.

"You're Mary Sues! witches," he shouted excitedly. "Are Kim and Emily, too?"

"We all are!" Caitlin responded, embracing Brian. "Does this mean Jeff and Mark are?"

"No," Brian said, shaking his head. "I wish they were. They're good friends and I hate constantly lying to them."

As I said earlier, I think Neil forgot that he had already introduced one character named Jeff earlier when he created the Hufflepuff Jeff and only realised it at this point.

One Jeff Limit.

As they talked, Donald Thomas entered the room. Jeff clasped his hand firmly and Jamie and Caitlin both gave him a hug.

LOL he doesnt even get any speaking lines upon entering the room, like he´s just a cardboard cut out!

"I better get back to my group," Brian said, feeling incongruous. "It's great seeing you guys. Tell Kim and Emily I said, hi! After they're done with us here tonight, maybe we can make arrangements to get together."

Brian had just turned to return to the American contingent when Kim wandered through the door. She still seemed to be in shock over being selected, but when she saw Brian; her face broke into a huge grin.

Brian ran to her and literally lifted her off her feet, swinging her in a circle. Kim's face turned bright red as he finally returned her to the ground.

"Why didn't you tell me that you were a witch?" Brian asked.

"For the same reason you didn't say you were a wizard," Kim replied. "That does, however, explain how you knew that someone had to be magical to become a ghost."

So she did pick up on that, then.

At least someone is somewhat smart among the Sues.

"I did let that slip, didn't I?" Brian said guiltily. "It's marvelous seeing you again."

"Bancroft! What are you doing back here?" Jeff barked, as Dick Bancroft barged through the door. "Only team members are allowed in here."

"That's me people," Dick crowed smugly. "I'm the sixth member of the team."

As Brian ran off to rejoin his squad, the Hogwarts group all exchanged bewildered looks. Certainly there had been some sort of horrible mistake. No one less personified the term 'Team Spirit" than Dick Bancroft.

After Nora and Lee joined the group, they all waited nervously to receive further instructions. As Caitlin waited, her eyes kept returning to Bancroft. How could the Hogwarts team possibly win when it seemed an albatross had just been added to the group?

That´s gonna be the least of her worries though, as we will see shortly.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the door behind them opened and a small group of people came in: Professor Snape, followed closely by Minister Weasley, Mr. Simone, Coach Ryan and Professor Potter.

"I'm sorry that I didn't get to address you in The Great Hall," Minister Weasley said, staring daggers at Professor Snape. "I had a great deal of inspirational advice I wanted to impart to you and the students of Hogwarts. But since I was deprived of that opportunity, I will only say that I hope both teams will find this experience both satisfying and rewarding. It is not important which team ultimately wins the competition. What is significant is that you all learn the importance of cooperating and working together." Once again he gave Snape a chilly, trenchant stare. "Good luck to you all."

This wall of text somehow reads like the nonsensical talk of the Griffin council in My Inner Life.

Without a further word, he turned and departed the room.

"Well, that was certainly rude," Rishard huffed in a high voice. "He didn't even take my hand in parting."

"I apologize," Snape said. "I'm sure he thinks he has something more important to do. Now then before we get started, I'd like to introduce Professor Harry Potter to our guests. Professor Potter has agreed to coach the Hogwarts team."

With the exception of Dick Bancroft, the Hogwarts team all clapped appreciatively. Jamie, Caitlin and Kim jumped up and down and exchanged excited hugs.

Why would they hug now?

Mr. Simone, smiled broadly as his eyes stroked Harry. "Wonderful," he said, a pleasant flutter in his voice. "I was hoping I'd get the opportunity to know you better."

"Mr. Simone will be running combined training sessions for the teams and also acting as impartial judge and facilitator for the events," Professor Snape explained. "Mr. Simone, would you care to elucidate further?"

"Thank you, Severus," Rishard said in a come hither voice. "I must say that both schools have assembled lovely teams. I look forward to working closely with all of you."

"If he tries to work closely with me, he'll end up with a mouth full of knuckles," Dick Bancroft grunted softly.

"This is the fifth event such as this that I have conducted for the International Committee of Magical Games and Sports. I'm proud to say that all thus far have been fabulous successes and I'm positive this one will be no different."

Simone placed his hands on his hips. "The players from Salem might be deemed to have an advantage because they have competed against the other U.S. teams, but I assure you that these games will be quite different. They will require cooperation, teamwork and trust unlike any you have ever experienced. Remember, there is no 'I' in team. Individual abilities will not win an event. A challenge is not complete until every member of the team is across the finish line.

Aha.

"The next two weekends we will spend getting to know each other intimately In a fic like this, the word "intimately" can mean something way different and learning to fully trust our teammates. The actual tasks will be spread throughout the school year. You will not be given a date or time in advance. The task could be any day of the week between seven in the morning and seven at night. Unless there are questions, I believe that is all I have to say." Snape was on the verge of dismissing the students when Simone suddenly stopped him.

We´re finally getting to the actual main conflict of the fic: "Oh! My goodness! Silly me!" Rishard squealed. "I forgot the most important thing. I've noticed that the students from Hogwarts have been eyeing enviously the stunning team uniforms that the group from Salem is wearing. The International Committee of Magical Games and Sports had the magnificent House of Gayee "Gayee"? Seriously, Neil? in France create them just for these events." "Fear not! I have uniforms for you, also," Simone said in an excited giggly voice as he waved his hands about gaily. "The only difference is that yours are in green, red, yellow and blue. Oh! Yes! A new rule stipulation is that you must wear nothing more than the team uniform during participation hours commencing tomorrow and continuing until the presentation of the trophies in June. Don't worry about size. One size fits all." Caitlin looked down at herself and then glanced at Jamie. How could the same uniform possibly fit them both?

Oh, the suspense! "If that fruitcake thinks I'm wearing one of those, he's bonkers," Bancroft bellowed. "I quit. One of the alternates can have my starting spot." "Mr. Bancroft," said Headmaster Snape, putting his arm around Dick's shoulder. "For the first time in seven years, I believe you and I agree about something. Those uniforms are ludicrous and debasing. The designer should be tortured and the committee that approved their use by students cursed. Unfortunately, we must follow the rules, and they state clearly that those people whose names came out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete and follow all tournament requirements. You will be competing and you will be wearing that travesty of a uniform for the remainder of the year. I'm sure the rest of the school will be as distressed to see you in that get up as you will be to be seen in it. Learn to live with it."

Well, the one time he shows just some balls, it´s this here.

But yes.

Rishard Simone is in fact the Main Villain of this fic and the main conflict is angsting about the ridicculous outfits for the tournaments.

* * * * * *

"Will you girls please calm down," Hermione pleaded. "I saw the competition suits the Americans had on and I agree that they are awful, but I'm not sure what, if anything, we can do at this point. Why don't you go put them on so we can get an idea of just how dreadful they are?"

Jamie, Caitlin and Kim reluctantly grabbed their competition uniforms and headed for the bedroom.

"I don't see the problem," Emily said in an angry voice. "I'd give anything to be a part of that team. What's the big deal about their butt checks showing or the sides of their boobs? I thought we were all nudists? How can a camel toe embarrass you when you're willing to walk around with your twat fully exposed? I'd gladly partake nude if it meant being on the school team."

.....She does kind of have a point here.

"Emily, please use correct terminology," Hermione said, a tone of frustration in her voice. "Jamie and I have both tried to explain this to you countless times before, but evidently to no avail."

"That's because my sister is an exhibitionist," Jamie said, as she returned to the room.

As is Jamie sometimes too.

"Oh! My!" Hermione said as she gawked at Jamie. "That certainly leaves little to the imagination. Turn around and let me see it from all angles."

The uniform without a doubt reminded Hermione of a cut-off muscle shirt being attached by strings to a thong. The shirt part was colored stripes of green, blue and red, while the thong was yellow. The shirt only covered the chest ending just below the breasts. Actually in Jamie's case it barely covered the chest. Her nipples were only just covered by the edge of the fabric and the sides of her breasts were fairly visible. How lucky she killed Madam Hooch before she could see her in that outfit. In the back, two strings attached to the top at either side forming a V, the bottom point of which was just above her bum. At that point they became a single string that disappeared between her cheeks. From the back, Jamie looked like she was completely bottomless. Two strings also attached to the edge of the top at either side in the front. These strings met just above Jamie's vagina where they attached to a triangle of yellow cloth that scarcely covered that area before disappearing between her legs.

The outfit sounds like a stripper or go go dancer outfit.

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. If Jamie had pubic hair, it would all be visible. Thank you for reminding us of the Suethors preferences. She had seen the American uniforms, but not this close. She hadn't realized how revealing they really were.

"I can't believe that they expect you to practically live in these outfits for the next eight months. Going about normal activity would seem unfeasible, competing totally impossible. The boys' uniform is exactly the same?" she questioned. No way in hell could Harry, even in a flaccid state, ever conceal his package behind that little triangle; and what if he got aroused? The very thought was enough to increase her heartbeat.

"According to Brian, it's impossible to get through a contest without popping out several times." Kim added, as she and Caitlin entered the room. "He says that the girls' breasts are out more than they are covered. On one occasion, they were practicing making a human ladder and Debby's costume shifted to one side exposing her entire vagina. She was in the middle of the ladder and couldn't do anything about it for nearly ten minutes."

That really does sound painful.

Also, Debby is the only other American student besides Brian who is ever named.

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand the problem," Emily said in frustration. "They are just body parts. We just got off a cruise where hundreds of people saw us nude. Jamie, Caitlin and I wouldn't have a problem with walking to the library right now totally naked. So, why is it a predicament to have a camel toe or a tit pop out while wearing some stupid costume?"

"Jamie's right," Caitlin said tentatively. "I love you, Emily. Please don't hate me for saying this, but you're different from us. We're all nudists, but I think you are an exhibitionist. We love being nude because we feel free and comfortable that way. I don't do it to excite or titillate anyone." Caitlin bit her lip. "I think sometimes that you like people seeing you naked; that it gives you some kind of thrill."

Because that is exactly how Emily feels.

"Do you feel that way, too?" Emily asked, staring angrily at Kim.

"Sometimes you do go to extremes," Kim answered warily.

"So you all think I'm a tart," Emily cried. "In that case, why am I sitting here hiding my nudity? Why don't I just go display myself to the whole world?"

Shut up, Emily.

Emily jumped from the chair, angry tears running down her face, and ran toward the door before anyone could react. She threw open the door and ran naked out of the Potters' quarters.

"Oh! No! I bet she's headed for the library," Hermione screamed, running to the door.

Oh, the conflict!

Anyway, Hermie Sue runs out to confront Rishard Simone.

Hermione's knuckles had barely touched the door when a voice called out sweetly. "Do come in Professor Granger, I've been expecting you."

Hermione opened the door, but as she walked inside, the sight of a man doing sit-ups naked, momentarily took her aback.

She should be used to be seeing nudity daily, shouldnt she?

"I hope you don't mind, but I prefer to do my exercising in the nude," Rishard said in his high whiny voice.

I love that whenever any of the Potter household or Samantha practice nudism, it´s all good, but when someone like Rishard does it, it´s inherently eeeeevul.

"Not at all." Hermione answered indifferently as Rishard continued his sit-ups. "I favor exercising in the buff, myself. How did you know it was me on the other side of the door?" she asked.

"Reputation and your husband," Rishard answered demurely "He made it rather clear that you would most likely want to talk to me concerning the uniforms for the games. I'm surprised by your concern. I was under the impression that your entire family were nudists."

So he does know about their little naturist cult then.

"As I was trying to explain to my younger daughter, there is an immense difference between being a nudist and using your body to be sexually titillating."

"And you find the uniforms to be sexy?" he asked.

"I find the uniforms to be disgusting," she declared. "This is a school, not a strip club. There is absolute no way the participants can take part in any physical competition without exposing themselves.

"I certainly hope not," Rishard answered, a self-satisfied tone to his voice.

I feel like Rishard is Neils self conscious fighting over how he himself uses naturism as a way for his perversions, yet his other side fights against it.

Hermione just stared at him in disbelief. She found this man totally despicable.

Rishard finished exercising, but didn't bother putting his robes back on. Instead he stood leaning against the doorframe, one hand on his hip, studying Hermione. "I've been told that you are the smartest witch of our time. We´re constantly told it, yet never shown how she is that. It's disappointing that you haven't figured this all out on your own. Why do you think these games are being held?"

"To promote closer unity and understanding between witches and wizards of different countries," Hermione affirmed.

Rishard shook his head as he laughed. "Possibly that might have been one of the original intentions, but now if it occurs, it's just a pleasant by-product. The first games I had a part in were held in Australia against New Zealand. A great deal of money and effort went into preparing for them. It had been hoped that the sale of tickets, food and souvenirs would recoup those expenses. Sadly there was not a great deal of interest in the first two rounds and it looked like we would incur a financial disaster. Then halfway through the second event, there was a slight accident." Rishard smiled.

"A lovely young girl with extremely pleasant knobs fell out of a tree. Fortunately she was physically unharmed but seventy-five percent of her uniform remained attached to a tree branch. Instead of concealing herself behind the tree trunk and waiting for assistance, the young lady panicked and ran to get something with which to cover herself. She had to run approximately a quarter-mile, in full view of the spectators. In the process, she lost what was left of her uniform."

How convenient.

Mr. Simone smiled at Hermione. "For the final event, there was not a single empty seat in the stadium. We sold out of food, cameras, Omnioculars, practically everything. The overall competition didn't make any money, but we broke even. Unfortunately, however, there were no uniform malfunctions that day.

How inconvenient.

Hermione glared at Simone. "Are you telling me that these outfits were purposely designed so that the participants would be constantly exposing themselves? This is all about money?"

What do you think, Hermie Sue?

Rishard didn't answer; he simply gave her a toothy Gilderoy Lockhart smile.

How oddly specific.

"But these are children, certainly neither our Ministry nor the U.S. Magical Government can be supporting what almost amounts to child pornography," Hermione pleaded.

Hermione, you´re in Hogwarts Exposed.

Everyone is a pervert here.

"Wake up to the reality of the real world Professor," Simone advised. "Money speaks. These events now make a fortune and politicians from all the counties concerned want their share. Minister Wrong approached me. I didn't approach her."

This is one of the last times Emma Wrong is mentioned here.

And I think this is supposed to foreshadow something.

"But what about the children?" she pleaded. "Certainly their parents can't approve."

"The voices of a few troubled parents are easily drowned out by the cheers of the boisterous supporting crowds. Besides, these aren't children, they are adolescents; in some cases, such as Miss Zacherley, almost adults. They're not being molested or physically harmed in any way," Rishard claimed. "Why, one might say they are simply being exposed to how much enjoyment their nubile bodies can bring to others."

One might even say Overexposed, indeed!

"You are nothing but a filthy, sick pervert," Hermione screamed. "My girls will not be taking part in your sex show."

"Yes they will," Simone said, now sounding almost threateningly. "Have you forgotten that they've signed a magical contract?"

"Then, they'll wear robes over your hideous uniforms"

We then get to this exchange at the end:

Hermione stared at Simone. She didn't like to use the word hate, but it would be easy to learn to hate this man.

"Mister Simone, do you know what a hermaphrodite is?" she asked.

Rishard looked at her questioningly. "No, I'm afraid I don't"

"A hermaphrodite is a person born with both a vagina and a penis. Would you believe at this moment I wish I were one?"

Yeah, I also couldnt believe Neil actually wrote this.

He looked at her questioningly, trying to discern the abrupt change in the course of the conversation. "Why on earth would a woman as lovely as you want a penis?"

"So I could tell a deviate like you to suck my big hairy dick," she replied. Hermione turned and stormed out the door, slamming it behind her.

Yes, this happened.

Cut for a long conversation on how to go through the tournament without actually wearing the revealing uniforms.

So Hermione suggests they use the concealment charm that makes it look like they´re dressed, when they´re actually naked.

Hermione nodded her head. "That's the one obvious imperfection with my idea. You'll all need to be willing to have your teammates see you nude."

"Dick Bancroft?" Caitlin said, in a disgusted tone of voice.

Jamie looked as if she were about to be sick.

"Do we really have any choice?" Kim asked.

Emily then whines about how she wants to use the charm too, despite not being on the team.

"She's right," Kim agreed, hanging her head. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm using the charm." "Me, too!" Jamie and Caitlin said in unison. Harry just sat with a glazed look on his face, looking from girl to girl and then finally to Hermione. "I can't believe we're giving our blessing to this," he said in amazement.

Are you really that surprised, Harry? "Me either," Hermione agreed. "It's not the best option, it's our only option. I still feel like that perverted bastard, Simone, is winning, but I can't see anyway to get the girls out of wearing his distorted creations. It seems like all we can do is prevent matters from getting worse." Harry kept looking from girl to girl and shaking his head. He felt like he was letting them down. "I'll contact the Headmaster and get his okay for you to all spend the night here," Hermione said. "Harry and I will help you apply the charms in the morning. Between now and Saturday, you should have a team meeting, so everyone knows what to expect. Perhaps Nora or some of the boys will want to follow suit." Caitlin and Jamie exchanged glances. Somehow they couldn't picture any of the boys being eager to join them.

As if.

* * * * * *

"So that means that you'll be spending most of the next eight months nude," Alex said, trying to comprehend the total ramifications of this.

Alex sounds like he´s excited about that.

"Yeah, well except for my socks and trainers, of course" Jamie said. "Truth is, that with the exception of the Yule Ball, I don't see a reason that I'd be putting clothes on at all. I'll shower in the morning and then activate the charm. I'm required to look like I'm in that hideous costume till after dinner. It hardly seems worthwhile getting dressed at seven. I guess I'll just keep the charm on in the common room until I'm ready to go up to my dorm. Then I'll deactivate it."

Yeah Jamie, your life is really hard.

Jamie thought about this and then said. "Maybe, I will need to get dressed. I don't think I want to spend every night looking like a tart in that attire. It's bad enough I have to look that way twelve hours a day."

"Jamie, why not just ask our housemates if they'd mind if you removed the spell while in the common room at night?" You're going to actually be nude, why not just remove the pretence of having something on?" Alex asked.

I´m surprised she hasnt done that yet.

Jamie couldn't believe her ears. "You'd actually be okay with that? You wouldn't mind my being starkers in front of all the other guys?"

"My name isn't Matt," Alex declared. "I know what I have and I've no intentions of losing you by acting like some stupid jealous prat. You were a nudist long before we met and I'm assuming you desire to be one for the remainder of your life."

Alex is such a simp.

We then get through more long pointless dialogue of Jamie angsting about the outfits, and we end on that note:

"Just make sure that hand is on my leg and not between them," she said, trying to sound stern, but not succeeding. "If you cause me to have an orgasm in Flitwick's class and I start screaming, I'll never forgive you."

In this fic, anything is possible. "Speaking of orgasms, I didn't have time for dessert at dinner," Alex informed her. "Would you mind terribly if I had it now?" "That is something I'll never refuse you," she said as she laid back and spread her legs welcomingly.

Yeah, this was actually written down.

Afterwards they talk about whether Alex has told his parents that he is dating a naturist.

We still barely know anything about Alex in the first place.

After several chapters of filler and a whole chapter about stripper outfits, we return to what is supposed to be the plot:

"Nott, I understand you ran into a bit of a problem with the couple you visited last evening." "Yes, my Lord." Theodore Nott cried, prostrating himself at the feet of Salazar Slytherin. "I'm sorry my Lord, but they refused to enter your service. Please forgive me, my Lord. I tried my best to convince them that it was in their best interest, but they were vehement in their refusal."

This is giving me North Korean vibes. "On your feet, Nott," Slytherin commanded. "I do not punish faithful servants who do my bidding. You can only give wise counsel. You've offered them a life in my service, regrettably they have refused."

"Slytherins reign will be worse than Voldemort"

Slytherin crossed the room, giving the matter thought and then returned to Nott. "I'd like you to return to them again before the week is out and give them another chance to join my service. Do they have anything that might perhaps be used as a bargaining chip to influence them to reevaluate their original decision?" "Yes, my Lord. They have two children, both girls. The older attends Hogwarts, the six year old goes to the day school in Hogsmeade." "Hogwarts, dear Hogwarts," Slytherin said, as if reminiscing about bygone years. So you are saying he isnt reminiscing about bygone years? "I have many memories of the school, both good and bad. When you visit them, tell them how very disappointed I was at their decision. Also, inform them that if they do not join me immediately, their daughter will not live to ever ride the Hogwarts Express again." "Oh, and Nott, in order that they realize how sincere I am and how distressed I was that they didn't answer my first calling, I want you to take them a gift on my behalf." "Yes, my Lord," Nott said. "The gift my Lord, what is it to be?" "The severed head of the youngest girl."

DUN DUNN DUNNNNNNN

I can´t take this seriously, as this is only included in order to make Slytherin look waaaaaay worse than Voldemort, despite the fact that he just can´t be taken serious as some evil overlord. End of Chapter 12

Finally this chapter is over.

Oh, and this chapter had 6 writers, allegedly.

[fairy-tales-of-yesterday]

heads up seven up

was tagged by @mrsmungus like three weeks ago and i don't think i ever did it so yeah working my way backwards through all the missed mentions. This is over seven lines but since i haven't been active that much recently i decided to dump this on you “Percy are you okay?” a voice asked from behind him. He turned sharply and pulled out of his thoughts. It was just Nico who came to see him semi-regularly at his humble abode in Alaska, where he was out from underneath the overbearing thumb of the gods. Percy didn’t mind Alaska that much sure the monsters were a little more out of control, but he didn’t have to worry about the gods as much. Well, most of the gods except Apollo in the summer. Apollo was always there in the summer. He wasn’t too bad though, Percy almost found Apollo’s presence tolerable. Percy didn’t think that he would ever find a god's presence tolerable so the fact that he found Apollo’s presence somewhat enjoyable was very surprising. That wasn’t the point right now the point was Nico was here one of the only people he still saw.

“Yeah I’m fine,” he said because he didn’t know how to be anything else. He always had to be the hero and save everyone.

Percy turned to look back at Nico who was wrinkling his nose in distaste. Percy wondered what that was about what Nico was so disgusted by. It wasn’t him right.

“I don’t understand why you live here,” Nico said looking at him.

Percy didn’t really know why he chose to live here either, but sometime between all the chaos and wars, he decided that he needed to get away. Get away from the gods and their chaos, and honestly, Alaska wasn’t that bad. Percy knew that he should respond to that with some snarky sarcastic comment that he was known for but quietly frankly he didn’t have the energy. He was so tired of trying to be everything everyone expected of him for Pete's sake he was barely able to legally drink.

Or maybe Percy did know why he lived here. He needed to escape, needed to get away and make a clean break, he needed to be himself for a change. Instead of the picture-perfect Greek hero that people had created in their minds. It was an expectation he didn’t know how to live up to. He was just a kid who got lucky. If you had asked little twelve-year-old Percy in the middle of a quest mere days after he had learned about the gods where he would be. Percy would have said dead in a second because he had been grieving and hopeless then, unable to imagine a world without his mom.

[timelesslords]

Can u pls write a percabeth fic where Percy and Rachel are dating and percabeth are best friends and they end up spending the night together and it's been a week and they don't know how to tell Rachel and Rachel being bitter ?? Pls

This was kind of out of my comfort zone in terms of what I usually write lol but I tried my best!! I imagine this as like a mortal college AU :)

send me a prompt!

“Beth, you can’t walk home like this,” Percy said, exasperated.

“I’m fine! I’m hardly even drunk,” Annabeth said, trying (and failing) to quash the butterflies in her stomach when he called her Beth. Percy, having been her best friend for almost a decade, was the only person in the whole world who was allowed to call her that. He only pulled it out in rare situations, and every time he did Annabeth would swear her heart skipped five consecutive beats.

Not that he could ever know that, of course. Now felt like a more precarious situation than most-- she’d come over to his dorm so they could watch a movie together, and had ended up curled up together on his bed around his laptop. In fairness, his dorm was tiny and there was nowhere else to sit besides his bed, but if Annabeth imagined really hard she could pretend that it had all been completely intentional, and he was sitting this close to her because he wanted to.

“Hardly?” Percy asked, raising an eyebrow. And, fine. Annabeth had had… an amount to drink. A non-zero amount, some might say. More than Percy, and she had a way lower tolerance than him. She was buzzed, sure, but not buzzed enough to walk back across campus to her own dorm.

“I’m fine. It’s barely twenty minutes,” Annabeth protested. She started to stand up, but Percy gently tugged her back into the bed. She should have put up more resistance than she did, but, well. Who could blame her.

“It’s also three in the morning and you’re drunk,” Percy said, “Come on, just stay the night.”

“Stay where? Grover’s bed?” Annabeth asked, repressing giggles at the thought. It wasn’t really that funny a thought, but, well, she was tipsy.

Percy’s roommate was gone for the night to visit his girlfriend, leaving his bed empty. Grover was a cool guy, but he also had a weird tendency to leave soda cans just about everywhere, including in his bed.

Percy just rolled his eyes. “No, here.”

It took Annabeth a few seconds to realize exactly what he was saying.

“In your bed?” Annabeth asked, hesitantly.

“We’ve been sitting on it together all night,” Percy pointed out.

“Yeah, but…” Annabeth trailed off.

It was different. She knew it was different. And frankly, any other time she’d be absolutely delighted that Percy was offering that difference, but there was also the issue of Percy’s girlfriend. Percy’s girlfriend, who he’d met their freshman year and hit it off with despite the fact that Annabeth had been in love with him since she knew what love was. Percy’s girlfriend, who was in another dorm on campus not ten minutes away, not here but also not not here.

“But what?” Percy asked. There was the tiniest bit of a smirk on his face, and Annabeth shoved his shoulder, rolling her eyes.

“You know what,” she said. Maybe it came off a little more seriously than she’d meant, but he didn’t seem to care.

“It’s not like we’d be doing anything,” Percy said. Annabeth tried not to feel hurt at how foreign the concept of “doing anything” seemed to him in relation to him and her. But she didn’t have any right to feel any type of way about that, because she and Percy were just friends and Percy had a girlfriend who was not going to be happy about Annabeth spending the night in his bed, regardless of which activities did or did not take place there.

“Yeah, I know, but its just… I don’t know, don’t you think Rachel will be mad?”

“You’re staying here because you need a place to crash. She can’t be mad about that.”

“I’m pretty sure she could find something to be mad about,” Annabeth muttered, mostly to herself. Percy heard her though. They were sitting so close their shoulders were touching, so it would have been a miracle if he didn’t.

“Fine, I’ll sleep on the floor. She can’t be mad about that,” Percy said, actually making to get up like he was about to lie down right there and then. It was Annabeth’s turn to pull him back onto the mattress.

“Don’t be stupid, you’re not sleeping on the floor in your own dorm room,” Annabeth said, “Besides, she’d just say I kicked you off your bed.”

Maybe Annabeth should’ve kept that last bit to herself, but she’d never been very good at hiding her feelings about Rachel. Percy sighed, knowing she was right but not wanting to admit it.

“Well I’m not letting you sleep on the floor,” he said stubbornly, despite the fact that Annabeth hadn’t even suggested it. She had to bite back a laugh at the indignant look on his face.

“Percy, I was never going to sleep on your floor. I was going to go home,” she reminded him.

“Well I’m not letting you do that either,” he said, “So I guess you’re stuck in bed with me, unless you want me to spend the night on concrete.”

“You’re so goddamn annoying,” Annabeth grumbled.

“Does that mean you’re staying?” he asked. His expression brightened considerably at the prospect, and Annabeth had to physically force herself to calm her heart rate down.

“Well apparently I don’t have a choice,” Annabeth said, rolling her eyes, praying to every god in the universe that she wasn’t blushing.

“Right,” Percy said, putting on some exaggerated confidence, “Obviously. So am I taking the floor or the bed?”

Annabeth knew he would sleep on the floor in a heartbeat. If she told him that she was uncomfortable being in his bed with him, he would gladly spend the night on cold concrete in the middle of winter in a dorm that had, frankly, terrible heating.

But she wasn’t about to make him do that. And if she was honest with herself, being in bed with him was the opposite of uncomfortable.

“The bed,” she sighed. Percy grinned triumphantly.

“I knew you wouldn’t make me sleep on the floor,” he said, and Annabeth finally let herself laugh.

“Yeah, because I told you so twice.”

“I think it’s because I know you so well, actually,” he said, finally closing his laptop that had been playing the movie earlier, and setting it on his bedside table. They’d turned the lights off earlier, and without the soft glow of the computer screen the only lights in the room were the faint street lights outside.

The bed was just a regular old twin, with not much space for either of them. That was why they were touching so much, Annabeth reminded herself. Just that. No other reason. He just put his arm around her shoulders because it was more comfortable that way, that was all.

It was late, and Annabeth was drunk, so falling asleep was easy. But she’d be lying if she said Percy didn’t help with that too.

***

It’d been a week since Annabeth had spent the night at Percy’s dorm, and they hadn’t talked about it at all.

She’d woken up the next morning completely hungover, and also with her and Percy’s limbs completely tangled together. The bed they’d shared was small, but it wasn’t that small.

Percy, of course, had acted like it was nothing. He’d teased her about her bed head and she’d half-heartedly teased him back about his morning breath, and then she’d packed her stuff from the night before and made her walk of shame back to her dorm. Except it wasn’t even a proper walk of shame, because they hadn’t actually done anything.

He hadn’t brought it up since, like it had been no big deal at all. Annabeth wished she could be so lowkey about it, but it was the only thing she’d been thinking about that entire week.

They’d already planned to meet up at the end of the week again, only this time in a group setting. A group setting meant Rachel was going to be there, and Percy might think their little sleepover hadn’t been a big deal, but Rachel was definitely not going to share that opinion. Annabeth was honestly dreading facing her so much that she considered bailing at least ten times. In the end, she decided that she had to just suck it up— she was going to have to face Rachel at some point, it might as well have been now.

All that to say Annabeth was a little surprised when she showed up at the party, only to find Rachel acting completely normal towards her. She was irritated towards Annabeth, but that wasn’t unusual. Rachel was always irritated towards Annabeth, and Annabeth was always irritated towards Rachel. But Rachel wasn’t pissed at her like Annabeth expected her to be. She wasn’t even not pissed, she was downright cordial.

All it took was one look at Percy for Annabeth to confirm what she already knew. He hadn’t told her.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, grabbing Percy’s arm and pulling him down the hallway. Rachel was going to be pissed at her for that, but Annabeth didn’t care. Percy followed along without complaint, not even bothering to shoot Rachel an apologetic look.

The hallway was empty, or as empty as a hallway at a college party could be. The music was loud enough to cover up their conversation, anyway.

“Did you not tell her?” Annabeth asked, keeping her voice barely above a whisper. Percy immediately looked guilty.

“You don’t know that,” he said, as if everything about both of their demeanors hadn’t given it away instantly.

“Of course I do, she wasn’t absolutely furious with me,” Annabeth hissed. Percy looked, if possible, more guilty than before.

“Okay, fine, I didn’t,” he admitted, “But what’s the big deal? It’s not like we did anything.”

And there it was again, those two little words and the way he said them, as if anything happening between the two of them was an impossibility. It felt like a dagger straight to the heart, but Annabeth ignored it.

“I dunno,” Annabeth said, “I mean if I was your girlfriend, I think I would want to know.”

Percy had choked on his drink halfway through her statement, and was already coughing before she could finish it.

“Are you okay?” Annabeth asked, alarmed. Percy just shook his head.

“Fine,” Percy managed to choke out, “I’m fine.”

“Am I going to have to heimlich you again?”

“Hey, you promised you would never bring that up again,” Percy said, pointing an accusing finger at her as he coughed again, clearing his throat a few times for good measure, “Besides, I don’t think it works for soda.”

“Fair. But don’t change the subject.”

“You changed the subject first,” Percy accused, in a not subtle attempt to change the subject once again.

“Because I thought you were choking, dumbass. You have to tell her.”

“Why?” Percy practically whined.

“Because the fact that you don’t want to means you know she’s going to be mad about it,” Annabeth said.

Percy groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall.

“Why are you so smart?” he asked. It sounded like a complaint, even though she knew he didn’t mean it that way. It sure felt that way, though.

“‘Cause one of us has to be,” Annabeth sighed.

If Annabeth were smarter, she would’ve never agreed to spend the night to begin with. But it was way too late for that now.

They went back and joined the group, but Annabeth knew Rachel was staring (bordering on glaring) at her the entire rest of the night. She couldn’t even really blame her. She was going to be a hell of a lot more mad at Annabeth once she found out the reason Annabeth had pulled Percy away to begin with.

The very next day Annabeth was in her dorm room, trying to finish a project for her architecture class. It was due on Monday, but she’d been so distracted the entire week that she’d barely even made a dent in it at all. It wasn’t coming together the way she wanted to and Annabeth was three seconds away from snapping her pencil in half and throwing the whole draft away. Before she could, there was a sharp knock at the door.

Annabeth glanced down at her phone, but she didn’t see any texts. Maybe it was the RA doing an inspection, or maybe Piper had forgotten her key again.

But when Annabeth opened the door, she found Percy standing in the doorway. He spoke before Annabeth could even open her mouth.

“So, I told her,” Percy said, with absolutely no context. He knew she didn’t need it. Annabeth found herself gripping the door so tightly she thought her fingers might break.

“You did? What happened?” Annabeth asked, trying not to sound frantic. Why was he here? Why didn’t he just call her? What if Rachel had made him swear to never talk to her again and he was just here to say goodb--

“She asked me to tell her with 100% certainty that I didn’t have feelings for you,” Percy said, impossibly calm.

If Rachel had asked him that, why was he standing in Annabeth’s doorway?

“And?” Annabeth said, voice small. Her heart was practically pounding out of her chest, but Percy just shrugged.

“And, I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t?” Annabeth repeated, just to make sure she had heard him correctly.

“Nope,” he said, easily, too easily, “To be honest, I couldn’t even give her like, 1% certainty, but that would’ve felt a little rude to say.”

“So…” Annabeth trailed off. She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. It didn’t make sense in her brain. Percy had feelings for her. And he’d broken up with Rachel, which meant— which meant—

“I think now is the part where you tell me if you like me back,” Percy said, interrupting her thoughts. He was smiling though, like he already knew the answer.

Annabeth did not currently have the mental wherewithal to form words. Thankfully her feet did the thinking for her, closing the already small distance between them and kissing him like she’d wanted to do for years.

“So I take it that’s a yes?” he said with a grin, when they finally broke apart. Annabeth was pleased to see he was a little breathless, at least.

“Shut up,” she laughed.

“Gladly,” he said, leaning down to kiss her again.

[pastelwitchling]

Some small, silly malex fluff in honor of Percy Jackson’s birthday today 💙🔱

Alex Manes was untouchable. Children of Aphrodite often were not, but Alex was the exception.

No matter how often Michael came by his house, or fixed the rattling he insisted he heard in Alex’s car, or offered himself for a night of “destressing,” Alex always, always said no.

And if Alex ever seemed to mean that no, if he ever didn’t follow one of his rejections by raking Michael up and down with his eyes, if he ever seemed to actually want Michael to go away, it might have been easier for Michael to give up. To dream of having Alex only his fantasies at night, or in the show, or at the bar.

Alas, being the son of Apollo meant that he found light in the dimmest situations, which in turn meant that he couldn’t give Alex up.

So here he was again, just like every other night, searching for Alex at the Wild Pony. He found him there in his black jacket and jeans, a silver earring in one ear, looking as delicious as always. Then Michael saw that he wasn’t alone, and he faltered.

Someone, though he had no idea who, was getting a little handsy with Alex, running his fingers through his hair. Michael’s fists clenched, the seeds of jealousy already planted in his stomach at the sight. Alex, he quickly realized, was not enjoying the touch.

Before Alex could say another word to the creep, Michael slid in between them, glaring. He grabbed the stranger by the collar of his shirt and growled, “Don’t touch him.”

Without another word, he threw the man back. He hit the wall and crumpled to the floor where his friends were ready to catch him, their eyes wide and afraid as they dragged him out.

Still heaving, Michael turned to Alex to find him staring, his eyes dark. Once again, Alex was letting himself rake Michael’s body, his exposed chest hair, his abs, his thighs.

Michael put a hand on the bar and leaned in close. Alex did not lean away. He never did move from Michael’s touch.

“Don’t come here without me again.”

Alex raised a brow and turned back to his drink, but not before he stared down Michael’s open shirt. “You think that was the first creep to hit on me? I’m not scared of them, Guerin.”

The thought of someone, anyone, hitting on Alex made Michael’s blood boil. Another drawback of being the sun of Apollo; it always felt like the sun was burning just beneath his skin, threatening to explode.

He leaned in closer. “Then don’t ever go anywhere without me again. I’ll kill anyone that comes near you.”

Alex smirked and turned to face Michael. Gods, he was beautiful. “As incredibly hot and crazy as that is, I think I’d rather just have a drink with you.” He gestured to the stool. “You got time?”

“For you?” he scoffed, and sat down without taking his eyes off Alex. He gestured at the bartender for a beer and looked Alex up and down. “You look good.”

“I always look good,” Alex said with a sigh. “What else have you got?”

“No,” Michael leaned in, his legs spread to encircle Alex. His hair was windswept, his cheeks rosy, his lips red and pursed and eager to be kissed. “I mean you look good.”

Alex pinched the bridge of his nose, and for a moment, Michael thought that he really had annoyed him this time.

Then Alex snapped, “If I kiss you, will that satisfy whatever craving you have?”

Michael faltered. Somewhere, he knew, Alex was frustrated, but it was blurred behind the words kiss you. So he could only nod, and Alex’s face fell, like he was disappointed.

That snapped Michael out of his haze, and he opened his mouth, not knowing what he would say, when Alex huffed, reached a hand into his curls and pulled him in.

When Alex kissed him, Michael completely lost all train of thought. All he knew was that his lips slotted so perfectly with Alex’s, that Alex smelled so good, that he tasted so wonderfully, that he was so warm.

When Alex pulled back, Michael’s mouth was still open. Alex started to pull his hand out of Michael’s curls and return to his drink, but Michael wouldn’t let him get far. He wrapped an arm around Alex’s waist and pulled him in against him.

“No,” he breathed. “Not yet.” And he kissed Alex again, startling him. He stuck his tongue into Alex’s mouth, tasting him. His lips were as soft as he’d always imagined, his tongue as slick. Michael tilted his head, deepening the kiss, wrapping both arms around Alex to keep him close.

Alex seemed hesitant to touch his shoulders, or any part of him.

“Touch me, baby,” he pleaded into Alex’s mouth before kissing him again. When Alex hesitated still, Michael pulled back.

Alex’s brows were furrowed, something like surprise and fear in his expression. That made Michael falter. “What’s wrong?” he touched Alex’s jaw. “I thought you – you wanted me to kiss you.”

Alex shook his head. “That usually does it,” he said. “I just kiss guys and they . . . they don’t want any more than that.”

Michael tried not to think of Alex kissing anybody but him, and bit his lower lip, tracing his eyes down Alex’s body. “I want to do a lot more than kiss you.”

Alex swallowed and something in his mask fractured, revealing doubt and hope. “R-Really?”

That woke Michael. He blinked. “Is that why you kept saying no? You thought I was under some Aphrodite spell?”

Alex looked down, his cheeks red. “Everyone usually is. Then one kiss and it’s like I didn’t matter anymore. I thought . . . I thought you’d be the same, and I didn’t want to . . . to lose you.”

His last words were spoken in a mutter, but they felt like a stab wound to the heart. Michael clenched his jaw. How dare anyone reject Alex? Treat him like anything less than the king he was?

But that was their loss. He was all Michael’s now.

He took his hand and kissed his fingers. “You’re all mine, baby, no one else’s. I’ll prove it to you.”

[phykios]

honesty and promise me, co-written with @darkmagyk [read on ao3]

Update: Annabeth has not done what needs to be done. 

August moves over into September, hot and sweltering days giving way to the first few hints of the coming autumn chill. One unseasonably cold night, Annabeth had gone to bed wrapped in one of Percy’s old Paris Opera sweaters, waking up with it and wearing it home to ward off the chill of the morning drizzle, like some a normal girlfriend would. 

It’s a problem, she knows, but she just cannot quit this man. 

And boy did she try, about a hundred different times. 

One time, she spent an entire Tuesday before seeing him googling around until she found a picture. It was three years old, and it showed Mittie--oh, sorry, Her Royal Highness Margherita--at a soccer game in Moscow. Next to her is the handsomest man in the world. Percy’s hair is shorter, and something about his windbreaker reminds her of some of the crew boys she knew at Harvard. They aren’t touching, but they are both smiling. This is the kind of girl Percy deserves. This is the kind of girl he should want. His type. She reminds herself of it for hours before meeting him at a show. But the smile he gives her is nothing like the one in the pictures with the princess. And when he whispers what he wants to do to her that evening, she just can’t do it. 

She even took him to his favorite pizza place once to soften the blow. But then she thought about how her dumping him would forever taint the magic of Antonio’s for the both of them, and she just couldn’t abide that.

So she kept putting it off. And putting it off. And putting it off.

And then he asked her to dinner with his parents again, on his one night off in three weeks.

“You’re sure you don’t want me to bring you something?” he asks for the fourth time, concern making his connection thin and tinny.

“It’s just a little stomach thing,” she lies, shaking out a ramen flavor packet. “I’ll be fine. You go have fun with your mom.”

“Okay. I’ll call later to check up on you.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m just going to be asleep.”

“Talk to you later.”

“Yeah.”

He clicks off. Her apartment is very quiet. For lack of anything else to do, she decides to check her mail.

Who even mails anything anymore, she thinks.

Rifling through the pile of wasted paper, she sighs at the banality of it all. Junk, junk, junk, NYCB brochure she needs to cancel, junk… Harvard?

She peers at it.

The red seal is unmistakable, as is her name, printed in neat, black ink. “Ms. Annabeth Chase.” Why are they contacting her? And more importantly, who the fuck gave them her address?

Hands shaking, she unfolds it. “Dear Ms. Chase,” it reads, “Thank you for your generous contribution to the Harvard Graduate School of Design. As one of our most promising graduates, we are so pleased and thrilled to receive your encouragement. With your gift, we were able to reach our fundraising goal of $2.5million, which will go to support the various operations of the school, so that we can continue to provide a top-notch education for your fellow students. You do make a difference for us, and we are immensely thankful for you!” And then it goes on. “As a thank you for your generous gift of $15,000, we would like to invite you to the Alistair Moore dinner for distinguished graduates and faculty. We would be delighted to receive you at...” 

She can’t finish, dyslexia scrambling the words in front of her. Or maybe that’s just her, trembling so hard she has to sit down. Fifteen thousand. The Alistair Moore dinner. She knows it well, yet another fancy networking event, like the Eta Industries party. Bile rises in her throat. Who would…

The answer hits her like a freight train. Only one person would be so bold. 

Crumpling the letter in her fist, she pulls out her phone, dialing the number she still stubbornly has memorized, despite deleting it off her contacts list. 

She isn’t sure if she’s upset that she gets his voicemail, or relieved. “Hey, dad. It’s me,” she says, grimacing as she starts off like he wouldn’t recognize her voice. Like it’s any other phone call. “I got your message. The Alistair Moore dinner? I’m not going. I told you, I don’t want your help. I don’t need your help. What I need,” she sneers, “is for you to butt out and leave me the hell alone.”

Then she hangs up, before she can chicken out and delete it.

She shoves the letter into her recycling bin, down to the very bottom. Out of sight and out of mind. 

Well, her night is pretty much ruined. 

Ramen growing colder, she lies on her couch, her head hanging over the edge, studiously not looking at her phone. She shouldn’t have left that message. She shouldn’t have opened that letter. She shouldn’t have rebuffed Percy’s invitation. Or maybe she was right, in all those situations. Who the fuck knows. Who the fuck cares. Her leg bounces, frantic, stomach roiling.

Like a gunshot, her phone vibrates on her coffee table. Annabeth catapults herself up, reaching for it, nearly dropping it, even as her eyes begin to blur. Please let it be her dad. Please let it be anyone else but her dad. Please. Please. Please. 

checking in, writes Percy. feeling any better?

With a sob, she hits call. He picks up after the second ring.

“Hey,” he says, softly. “Everything okay?”

“Can,” she hiccups. God damn it. God damn her. “Can you please come over?”

She can feel his demeanor change over the phone. “I’ll be right there,” he says, calm and collected. “What’s your address?”

Her address is supposed to be a secret. No one is supposed to know where she lives. She doesn’t even like Luke knowing where she lives, and he might be the closest thing she has to family right now. But she tells Percy, and he promises to be there within thirty minutes. Throwing her arms over her face, she lies back down, breathing through her nose so she doesn’t vomit.

He makes it in twenty. here is the simple text, devoid of any hearts or emojis, and she buzzes him up. Less than a minute later, he knocks on her door. “It’s open,” she calls, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. 

Softly, the door clicks open, someone smoothly and quietly stepping inside. “Annabeth?” 

“Here,” she moans. She should get up to greet him. She can’t feel her legs. She can’t feel anything at all. 

The couch dips as someone sits next to her, a warm, large hand on her shoulder, and she can’t help but open her eyes. Percy is there in his blue sweater that she returned the last time she had slept over at Nico’s apartment, his brow furrowed in worry, but he’s smiling a little, too, just happy to see her, to see that she’s safe. In his other hand, he holds up a plastic bag. “I brought you a cookie,” he says, gently. “Chocolate chip.”

Annabeth blinks. “It’s… blue.”

He nods. “It is.”

Blue cookies. His mom’s special recipe, he had told her, for bad days of aching feet, harsh dance instructors, and school bullies.

The dam breaks. 

She launches herself into Percy’s embrace, sobbing. He tucks her head into his neck, his arms coming up around her. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

“I’m--I’m so sorry,” she gets out, in between heaving breaths. “I just--I didn’t want to be alone and--”

He shakes his head against hers, his nose in her hair. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

They sit there for a long, long time, him holding her as she cries, pathetic. She can only imagine what it must be like from Percy’s end: here he was, having a lovely dinner with his mother uptown on his night off, only to get a frantic call from his hookup, demanding that he drop everything and rush to her side. And he did. He even fucking brought her one of his mom’s special cookies. 

She does not deserve this perfect, amazing man.

It’s that thought more than anything else that pulls her out of her spiral, her sobs abating somewhat. “There we go,” he says, sweetly. “I’m going to get you some water, okay? Be right back.”

Resisting the urge to hold onto his sleeve like some kind of child, she lets him pull away, stepping into her kitchen. Head aching and eyes puffy, she can’t even really register the fact that he is in her apartment right now. Her secret hideaway. Her sanctum sanctorum. He can see her tasteful couches and her expensive coffee maker and her giant TV screen. 

But honestly? She doesn’t care about any of that right now. All she cares about is the long, solid line of Percy’s body next to hers as he sits back down next to her, handing her a glass of water. She drinks it down, greedily, falling back against him, his hand automatically coming up to her shoulder, and she turns into his side, drinking him in, just as desperate.

They don’t speak, just holding onto each other. 

As she drifts off, there on her couch, her arm around Percy’s midsection, she only has one real thought in her head. 

Forget the apartment--this is her sanctum sanctorum. This is her safe space.

***

Annabeth wakes up in a bed that isn’t her own, in an apartment that isn’t her own. 

It reminds her, weirdly enough of her mom’s apartment, she thinks as she sits up in the soft, cream sheets, here in New York. She had only ever been a handful of times, whenever her mother deigned to claim her for their allotted family time. She doesn’t remember much about that place--mostly the skyline through the window, the low, uncomfortable furniture, the spotless, empty kitchen. 

Across from the bed is a mirror, squat and wide. Annabeth has her hair back, her face devoid of metal. She looks tired, she thinks, and maybe a little older, dark, heavy bags beneath her eyes. She’s wearing a real, actual set of pajamas, rather than a sweater or an oversized shirt, pale pink silk tight around her body. 

Shaking her head, she looks down, and spies a thin band of gold on her left hand, which rests on her stomach, sporting a slight, but noticeable curve. 

Only then does she realize it’s a dream. She lets out a grateful sigh. Just a dream.

It seems like a pretty boring one, too. She’s older, a little fatter, and has a nicer apartment. Somewhere in the distance is the indistinct sound of a person singing. And beyond that the even more indistinct sound of the city. 

Stumbling out of bed, her feet falling into a pair of soft, pink slippers, perfectly positioned next to her bed, she makes her way out into the apartment. The walls are cream, decorated with generic seaside landscapes, a nondescript sailboat in the background against an unchanging, cornflower blue sky. 

The kitchen is empty. Breakfast is cooked, laid out on a placemat at the kitchen island, but no one is there eating it. No one is there cleaning up, or making coffee. The food looks delicious, like a magazine spread: a perfectly made bowl of granola and yogurt, a lemon poppyseed muffin, a glass of orange juice on the side. Nutritious. Small. 

It’s weird. It’s really weird.

Moving on, she enters the living room. There’s a little girl on her knees, maybe three or four, she’s wearing a red pinafore over a white polo shirt and Mary Janes shined like the top of the Chrysler building. The preschool version of a prep-school uniform. She’s hunched over the glass coffee table, frizzy blonde curls bouncing as she moves her hand back and forth, scribbling with a colored pencil on a piece of paper. 

All of a sudden, she notices Annabeth standing there. 

“Mommy!” She jumps up, holding the pencil behind her back, her green eyes wide with apprehension. “I--I was--”

She hears whistling, and turns to see… well, it's Percy, but he looks nothing like her Percy. His hair is cropped shorter, parted and moussed perfectly flat. He’s in a three piece suit. He’s in trousers. Not a pair of sweatpants or a muscle tee in sight.

He stops when he sees her. “Sorry, didn’t know you were awake, wouldn’t have been singing.” Which makes no sense, Because Annabeth loves Percy’s ambient music. He looks around her, speaking to his--to the girl, “I told you you’d have to stop when mommy got up.” 

Annabeth glances at the little girl, who nods too solemnly. 

“Don’t worry,” this stranger wearing Percy’s face says, “She’s ready for school. She is ready for her Math qualification. I only said she could draw for a little, to calm herself down.” He glances at the girl again. “Put your things back in the art box, and we’ll go to school. I have an 8:30 meeting with the board.” 

The little girl runs off. Holding her paper and her pencils close to her chest, like she’s afraid someone is going to take them away from her. Maybe someone is. 

Percy turns to her. “I confirmed our reservations at 7 tonight at Sarabeth’s with your mother’s assistant this morning. And the nanny is going to stay late, so we don’t have to bring her.”

The her in question reappears just then. She’s so small. And she’s carrying a backpack. She looks like that breakfast, out of a magazine. But normally kids in magazines smile. 

“Are you ready?” Annabeth’s voice finally says.

A beat, then she nods again. “Yes, mommy.”

“Good,” she says. Outside, the sunlight through the windows isn’t so bright anymore, but dark and cold, like a solar eclipse. “Make me proud.”

And she turns to go back to bed, but the floor has disappeared, and she steps on nothing, tumbling down into the void.

With a start, she wakes up again in her bed, to the smell of breakfast in the air. Which is confusing, because she’s pretty sure she fell asleep on the couch, and she usually doesn’t wake up in time for breakfast, let alone actually make it herself: she has Percy for that, now. 

Right. Percy. 

It comes back to her in flashes: the donation, the voicemail, calling Percy out of desperation. Inviting him into her room, her bed. Falling asleep in his arms. 

She physically shakes her head, roughly scrubbing her face, forcing herself further into consciousness. The light coming through her window is grey and weak, doing absolutely nothing to help her out. The morning feels muted, for some reason, like it’s very far away. Maybe it was her nightmare.

She can’t hear Percy, Annabeth realizes. That’s what’s wrong. She can smell breakfast, but she can’t hear him puttering away. She doesn’t hear the clanking of pans as he tries to be quiet, or his off-key humming, or the dull thump of footfalls on her floor as he practices his steps. 

God, how late did she sleep? If he has to leave for a morning class he usually makes sure to wake her up, first. For a kiss if nothing else.

But when she pads out to her kitchen, she’s stunned to find Percy still there, sitting at her warped kitchen table. There are two plates in front of him, eggs and bacon untouched and cooling. He’s fully dressed, too, in his dark jeans and stupid dance pun t-shirt: “Girls Just Wanna Have Buns,” his sweater on the empty chair. Annabeth had been weirdly looking forward to wearing that this morning; he likes seeing her in his clothes, and she likes seeing him without them. It’s a system that works for them, typically leading to a lot of smiles, a couple giggles, and maybe another round or two before he has to leave.

He’s not smiling now. His gaze is fixed on his plate, hands in his lap. “Morning,” she croaks, softly.

Percy lifts his eyes to her, unfathomable like the sea. “Morning.”

Something in her stops her from sliding into the seat across from him. Standing gives her strength, gives her power that she doesn’t want to give up. She may not be able to tell what Percy is thinking right now, but she knows when someone is gearing up for a fight. “What is it?”

“What is what?”

“What’s the matter?”

He is uncharacteristically still. Annabeth has gotten so used to him expressing himself via his body, the stillness is unsettling. Percy holds her gaze for a moment, then sucks in a breath, sitting up a little bit straighter. “I kicked over your recycling by mistake, and when I was cleaning up, I…” He bites his lip, a little ashamed. “I accidentally read some of your mail.”

“Okay.” He can’t be that broken up about her junk mail, can he?

It’s only then that she sees it, laid out neatly next to the breakfast plate. The letter has been carefully uncrumpled, but the red Harvard seal is as obnoxiously bright as ever. “I don’t mean to pry, but…” Percy licks his lips, gathering his words together. “I thought you didn’t get into Harvard?”

She doesn’t say anything.

“It’s just--this is from the Graduate School of Design,” he continues, looking at the page as if to confirm it. “And the dean says you were one of their ‘most promising graduates,’ here, so. That means you have, what, a master’s degree? Right?”

Still, she doesn’t say anything.

Percy rubs a hand over his mouth, square jaw squaring further. “I guess I just don’t understand why you lied to me.”

“I never--” she blurts. 

“I mean, were you trying to spare my New Yorker sensibilities by telling me you didn’t get in? Did you think I would actually care?”

There’s nothing she can say in response. So she doesn’t. 

After a moment, he blows out a sharp breath. “So. Fifteen thousand dollars, huh.”

She sighs, looking away. It’s not like Annabeth doesn’t hate it, too. “I didn’t do that,” she says, crossing her arms. “My dad did it, he just put it under my name.”

“And, he did that… why? I mean,” he tilts his head, a little bewildered. “I thought you guys weren’t on speaking terms.”

“To try and get me to network again, probably.” She shrugs. “And I’m not on speaking terms with him. He just hasn’t gotten the memo yet.”

He hasn’t raised his voice at all. He hasn’t moved from his seat, or made any kind of threatening gesture, but like an approaching storm cloud, she can feel the anger rolling in, dense and crackling. “Does he do this a lot, your dad? Throw his money around for you?”

“It’s not like I asked him to.” 

But he’s shaking his head, rueful. “I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. You know, I thought it was weird that you could afford an apartment in the East Village with a bedroom on periodic architecture contracts, but I’m guessing he pays for that, too?”

He’s right, of course, but that doesn’t stop her from bristling. “It’s a trust fund,” she snaps. “It’s still my money.”

“A trust fund,” he says, softly. “Right.” 

Anger lances through her, cold and burning. Just because her dad had set it up for her didn’t mean that she wouldn’t use it. “Yeah, a trust fund. Is that a crime, now?” 

He opens his mouth as if to say something, then snaps it shut with an audible click. Pushing his chair out, he stands up, hands flat on the table. “I should go and get ready for my class. I’ll… I’ll text you later, okay?” Percy takes a step towards her, hands reaching for her on instinct, then pauses. “See you around.”

Percy leaves without so much as a look back, closing the door so quietly she can barely hear it over the roar of blood in her ears.

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Opinions on Molly Weasley????

You know, I actually don’t think I’m too far out in left field for her. Well, I might be strange in that we tend to see very polarized opinions on Molly: either she’s the greatest mother who ever mothered and the Weasleys are a perfect family or she’s an overbearing manipulative matriarch who’s secretly poisoning Harry with love potions into marrying her daughter.

Sort of like Ron, I wouldn’t say Molly’s a saint, but she’s also not one of the truly nasty characters (she’s not eating babies or feeding Harry love potions or anything). That said, she is far from the warm, generous, matriarch JKR presented her as.

First, she is overbearing . There’s nothing wrong with this, it’s just how her and Arthur’s dynamic works, but at the same time if Arthur ever did have a spine it’s been completely conditioned out of him. It’s also very telling that Ron marries the overbearing equivalent of his mother in Hermione Granger. I suspect Ron’s spine has also completely disappeared by the time we hit that delightful epilogue from canon. 

As for the Weasleys, JKR sets them up to be the perfect family we can possibly (realistically) imagine. It’s huge, they all love each other and are fiercely loyal (except for Percy, the swine, we’ll get into this), they give Harry a sweater, it’s the family he wants so desperately that he marries the only available and socially acceptable option: Ginny (I could go on a rant about this for days, but guys, Harry shows way more interest in men than in women and I think 90% or Ginny’s attraction to him is that she’s a Weasley). 

That said the Weasleys, and Molly herself, have major issues. 

One, the money. I think JKR makes them poor to give contrast to the Malfoys. The Weasleys are nobly impoverished, they’re a wizarding family but understand more important things than money. The snobby Malfoys on the other hand have peacocks in their yard because rich people are inherently evil.  

That said, most of this is because Arthur and Molly completely mismanage finances. There’s nothing wrong with having seven children, but the Weasleys clearly cannot afford to have seven children. More, we see them spend money instantly when they have it. Ron is left without a wand for a year but the second Arthur wins the lottery, rather than save the money, WE’RE GOING TO EGYPT. Even the year before, money that might have gone towards emergency situations such as: my son’s wand broke is used to take Molly, Arthur, and Ginny to Egypt. They buy tickets to the Quidditch World Cup. The Weasleys don’t have that kind of money and then they go and are extremely bitter that Lucius Malfoy does have that kind of money. Yes, I’m sure the Malfoys were always wealthier than the Weasleys, but at the same time the Weasleys are the type to buy iphones for their kids when they’re on food stamps.

I’m getting a little distracted though, back to Molly.

I’d say Molly is far more traditional than JKR ever intended for her to be. She’s progressive enough that she supports muggleborns (they should get to go to Hogwarts and be very appreciative) but she also doesn’t think they should get too far ahead of themselves (we’ll get into this). She’s a raging misogynist (we’ll get into this). She is extremely judgmental and can flip on you at the drop of a hat with the barest of evidence. She never really does anything about Harry’s situation despite having very good evidence of its realities. And despite her family’s extreme poverty, even when all the kids are in boarding school, we don’t see her try to take up a job or even take up some etsy equivalent where she can enchant shit and sell it. There’s nothing wrong with staying home to raise the kids, but at the same time, I think for Molly it’s because “this is what the wife does”. 

Right, well, that actually was a lot.

Let’s start with Harry. Molly is witness to seven years of Harry’s childhood abuse and seems to take no action regarding it. Now, Fred and George are dubious sources, so them telling Molly that “hey Harry’s house had bars on his window” might not be taken seriously. Harry also is generally very private and embarrassed about his home life. That said, there are many many signs, and while Hermione practically lives at the Burrow ever since third or fourth year Harry has to spend every single summer with the Dursleys even before Voldemort’s return.

Granted, I have gone over that I don’t think child protection or even a good understanding of abuse exists in the Wizarding World. I think to wizards you’re stuck with the family you’ve got, and if your pureblood grandfather is raping you then it sucks to be you. That said, the Weasleys are such a central part of Harry’s life that I would expected them to do *something*. Instead it’s like Harry’s situation is... vaguely acknowledged but mostly ignored. 

Now, the Weasleys don’t have the money for an eighth kid (though Harry’s so absurdly wealthy he could help lighten the load were he to live with them) so I don’t hold this too much against them but... I would hope that a truly good family would have noticed Harry’s situation and tried to do something about it.

Right, the judgement part. The Weasley family’s unofficial disowning of Percy was horrible. This is going to be controversial, but Percy actually made some excellent points. Dumbledore and Harry’s story about Voldemort’s resurrection does sound nuts, the guy’s been dead ten years, he isn’t Jesus. More, it comes from Harry Potter who is young, traumatized, and has generally been erratic throughout the time Percy’s known him. And parts of what he says aren’t wrong. Why do the Weasley’s worship Dumbledore and listen to everything this man says? Dumbledore does do things like recruit child soldiers from the boarding school he runs. Dumbledore’s a shady guy. 

Mostly though, while Percy not believing Harry and Dumbledore is bad, I always got the feeling that a lot of the resentment and disowning was that Percy dared to do better than his father. Percy rises through the ranks quickly in the ministry, he’s extremely competent, where his father has been stuck in the same dead end joke of a job for years. Arthur even accuses Percy of having his position because Fudge is spying on Arthur. Which... no, Arthur, no. And the family just loathes him for it. They loathe him and it’s terrible. 

And I’m sure Dumbledore meanwhile is just dying that they’ve forced Percy out when Percy was in the perfect position to be a spy in the Ministry. I can just picture him drinking with Snape after Molly’s told him, tears in her eyes, that Percy is cut off because he betrayed the family, wondering what kind of morons are in the Order. 

Beyond Percy there’s what Molly does to Hermione in 4th year. And good god, this is also where the misogyny comes in. Rita Skeeter writes that Hermione, a fourteen-year-old girl, is a harlot and Molly not only a) believes it but b) becomes extremely judgmental of Hermione and essentially calls her a jezebel to her face. Molly, what the hell? Hermione’s life has been ruined by the tabloids for something that didn’t happen, and even if it did is nothing she should be slandered for, and Molly’s going “THAT WHORE”.

This is after Skeeter had slandered Arthur just that summer over the Quidditch World Cup incident and Molly hadn’t believed any of it for a second. So, either Hermione’s being a girl or her being an uppity muggleborn or both somehow makes this believable...

Molly’s very similar with Fleur. She doesn’t approve and I always got the feeling it was in part because Fleur is not the traditional sort of woman she’d want Bill to marry (Fleur is a working woman at Gringotts and more is elegant refined beauty rather than a girl next door who’d make a great housewife) but also because Fleur’s foreign. Bill should marry a nice, English, woman and instead he ends up with this French quarter-veela. 

Had Harry done anything to offend Molly, or even if Dumbledore had simply gone “You know what, Harry’s awful, we hate him”, then I would expect he too would have been completely cut off and thrown back into the gutter where he belongs.

So, Molly sucks and is not nearly as progressive as JKR intended, but is she feeding Harry love potions to marry Ginny and make the family wealthy? No.

[dreaming-of-the-end]

A Cup of Caffeine: Percy x Annabeth

Summary: Just a cliche coffee shop AU

A/N: Comments are better than goldfish! requested by @thoserainyrainboots, this exists!!!

Taglist: @real-smooth  @completekeefitztrash  @sovereign-of-the-skittles @rune-and-rising @venecs @lavender-and-rainy-days @chasteliac @confuzzilinh @in-a-fever-dream @stardustanddaffodils @a-harmless-poison

If you want to be added to or removed from my taglist, just ask!

Annabeth tapped her fingers on the table in annoyance, rereading her thesis.

This wouldn’t do at all. Sure, it was better than some of her classmate’s papers- god knew; she’d certainly critiqued enough of them- but her professor held her to a higher standard, and she couldn’t afford to make a mistake or have lazy writing.

Annabeth deleted the paragraph, sighing. Rubbing a hand over her eyes wearily- she’d spend hours on this paper, and she wasn’t even close to done- she stood up, heading to the counter for another coffee.

She’d already had three.

But unfortunately, she’d been forced to stay up late the night before to complete a project. It was due the following week, but she’d chosen her subject to be the construction of the Effiel Tower; she’d been so riveted and absorbed in her work she hadn’t noticed the time.

And five hours of sleep, while enough to function, wasn’t enough for her to stay awake long enough to write this essay. Especially since it was on the analysis of a random book that she’d hardly been able to read.

“Should I be worried?” An unfamiliar voice sounded, and she looked up to see a cute man with sea-green eyes looking at her with curiosity, tinged with a bit of amusement. He was an employee, she noticed, with a nametag that read “Percy”.

“What about?” she frowned, checking to make sure her clothes weren’t messy and didn’t have a cause for concern. Maybe the Stoll brothers had drawn on her face again; they certainly had had the opportunity, and they weren’t exactly known to turn down the chance to play a prank.

“About your coffee dependency,” Percy smirked, running a hand through his dark hair. His other hand played with one of the pens on the counter, moving it around before his hand dropped to his side.

“I don’t have a coffee dependency,” Annabeth protested, perhaps a little haughtily.

“Sure,” he nodded in mock agreement. “That’s why you’re on your fourth cup. And why your eyes are looking a little wild there.”

“Excuse me? I have an essay due next week, and I need to work on it, and I need to be awake to work on it. Therefore, I would like another cup of coffee,” Annabeth proclaimed, her fingers tapping her thigh incessantly.

“Oh, excuse me! Of course, if you need to stay awake to work on it, how could I refuse you your caffeine?” Percy remarked, his eyes glimmering with amusement.

Annabeth scowled. “I wouldn’t need coffee to stay awake were I working on something interesting.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“Something about architecture,” she responded, perhaps a little dreamily as she thought of the possibilities.

If only this class was about Hoover Dam or something interesting like that, rather than modern literature. It was hard enough to read books she was interested in, after all, and she would rather write a report on a bridge than this.

She told Percy this (plus a bit more), speaking animatedly about her interest in architecture before glancing up and realizing his eyes were fixed on hers, a smile tugging up the corners of his lips.

“What?” Annabeth flushed with embarrassment, realizing how boring and nerdy she must sound.

“Nothing,” Percy grinned, tapping his pen restlessly against the counter. “You’re cute when you talk about learning.”

Annabeth knew her mouth was gaping open, and she shut it with a snap. “Never heard that pickup line before,” she commented, the only words she could think of.

His hair was beach wavy, tousled and natural.

The thought was so sudden that Annabeth blinked as it dared to cross her mind, resisting the urge to shake her head.

His smile was rather distracting, now that she thought about it. Not that she was thinking about it, because she certainly didn’t have time to waste.

Her paper was due in a week, after all, and it had to be perfect.

“I can’t imagine why,” Percy shook his head, his dark, beach wavy hair flopping down over his eyes before he flicked it away.

“Well, what are your interests?”

“Hmm… Surfing.” Catching her disbelieving expression, he laughed. “No, I’m just kidding. I do like the ocean, though. All that kind of stuff.”

“What about the ocean?” she couldn’t help asking.

“Just… the sea creatures and the waves and stuff. The plants, I suppose.” His eyes brightened, and Annabeth thought maybe this was how she looked when she talked about architecture.

Inspired, almost.

“Now, what can I get you to keep you awake to write your highly important yet uninteresting essay that is certainly not about architecture?”

Annabeth rattled off the familiar words, hardly listening to them as her thoughts returned to her paper and certainly not the cute man standing a few feet away.

He probably flirted with all the girls that came by to order something. Especially the ones that didn’t talk his ear off about a subject most seemed to find boring.

“Be right back with your caffeine in a cup,” Percy told her, winking over his shoulder in an almost infuriating way as he strolled back to make her drink.

She took a deep breath, running her fingers through her messy ponytail (oh god it probably looked horrible what had he thought about her? That she was a slob?) as she waited for him to come back.

She was not one of those girls, Annabeth told herself firmly. She lifted her chin. She was not the type of girl to obsess over a guy when there were way more important things to worry about, like her essay due in a week, or her other homework that she had yet to do, or her upcoming internship, or-

“Here,” Percy set down the coffee on the counter, pushing it to her with his fingertips. His other hand tapped the surface incessantly, and Annabeth was willing to bet his foot was tapping beneath the carpet.

Maybe he was having too much caffeine too. Or maybe he was just always filled with this much energy.

“Thank you,” Annabeth said quickly, taking the cup and wrapping her hand around it, ready to head back to her table.

Her laptop was still open, and her paper beckoned.

Still, she lingered for a second, opening her mouth… but before she formed the words, she closed it again, shaking her head and smiling at Percy before heading back to her seat.

She took a sip of her drink and set it back down.

When she looked back at it to pick it back up, she glimpsed some words written on the side in messy handwriting:

Are you free Friday, Wise Girl?

Startled, she glanced up and locked eyes with Percy, who smirked, albeit nervously.

Annabeth grinned, standing up to go back to the counter.

His sea-green eyes sparkled in the light.

Butterflies swarmed in her stomach, and she couldn’t stop herself from responding.

“It’s a date, Seaweed Brain.”

[phant0mprince]

i live for Pernico but make it strictly platonic and Annabeth just—

Okay okay guys but imagine Percy wasn't as out of character in HOO and the bond between Percy and Nico hasn't been fucked up and they actually got closer. Like, People are all "JASON IS NICO'S BIG BROTHER!" like no,,,,,

I love Jason, really. But like, Percy took on a prophecy even if it meant it would get him in a bad situation just so Nico didn't have to suffer. He literally spent the entire BOL worrying over Nico, like??

He's literally an overprotective mother.

I need An AU where Nico and Bianca( you know he summons her after the titan shit is over) finally talk and he tells her about his crush and she tells him she loves him. And after a while he gets the courage to tell Percy. An AU where Percy takes his time and they try to work on it together with the help of Annabeth.

An AU where Nico isn't outed but comes out on his own terms. And he has his loving friends Annabeth, Thalia, Rachel and Percy.

But seriously here's me trying to convince you how amazing this AU would be.

Just imagine;

Percy took a sip, trying to keep himself from pushing Nico. Whatever it was, he could tell that Nico couldn't just prompt it out, so he let him take his time. “I just don't want anything to change between us, Percy. I'm just…”

Percy's eyes softened looking at the little guy in front of him. In a way Percy had almost seen the son of Hades grow up. From the hyperactive mythology nerd to his boy who still had trouble interacting with people but he was getting better.

He placed the can down, giving him a reassuring smile. “You'll still be my friend even after whatever you tell me, Neeks. I mean it can't be worse than you almost getting me trapped in the underworld forever right?”

Nico frowned but refused to comment. “It's okay, you can tell me whenever you're ready but remember, I promised Bianca to take care of you and besides, I'll never be able to leave you, you little annoying prick.” Percy chuckled, getting up.

“I like you, Percy.”

And very logically Percy just spit his drink all over Nico.

And like imagine,

“And you spit water all over him?" Annabeth asked, amused.

“You knew, didn't you?” Percy whined. Annabeth sighed, avoiding the question. “Well, then, don't tell me you walked away?” she said, glaring at him.

Percy just shook his head, “No, I told him, we'll work on it together. Since, you know, he's like my little brother. We decided to set a few boundaries and still make sure nothing changes.” Percy explained but even as he said it, it hardly made sense.

“You'll get there, Seaweed brain.” Annabeth reassured him, softly eyeing. The gods knew how Nico meant to Percy. He'd done everything in his power to take care of him and he still blamed himself for Bianca.

“I hope so, Wise girl.”

AND THEN like they do get over that phase and it's nothing more than a joke Nico uses to startle Percy with the help of Annabeth. Everyone at camp knows Nico is literally Percy and Annabeth's child at this point.

“I wouldn't mess with Nico, If i were you.” Rachel told the new camper, absentmindedly. “Oh, yeah? Huh, I'm not scared of the child of hades.” the camper replied, arrogantly only causing Rachel to chuckle darkly.

“Oh, if only, that's all.”

“Why are Annabeth and Percy glaring at me..?”

“Rest in Pieces.”

And imagine like the seven are just like;

"I don't trust Nico!”

And Percy just uncapped Riptide and pointed it at them lazily. “If you mistrust my brother, you mistrust me.” Annabeth just glaring at them from the corner.

And Nico tries to not facepalm while Hazel eagerly nods agreeing with Percy.

And like when Nico goes to Eros, Percy goes with him instead of Jason and literally just challenges him to a duel.

“I fought the god of fucking war and fucking Titan, I'm sure I can take you. You're not messing with Nico.”

But Nico doesn't have anything to be afraid of because he is already out to the few people he wanted to tell at the moment. And simply tells the god, “Yes, I liked Percy Jackson but he's like my brother now. You don't have to be in love with people to love them!”

Like the tartarus scene,

“If you two are going down, you'll need me too!”

“Nico, no, listen—”

“No, Jackson! I'm not losing another sibling.”

The three of them fall together because they are family.

And just, bloopers from Tartarus,

“Oh my gods, what the fuck are you?

“Nico, you don't ask people!”

“THAT'S EXACTLY WHY YOU'RE DYING YOU PIECE OF KELP!”

back to serious stuff,

The aftermath and all of them just trying to console each other.

Also since, Percy bullied Nico into staying at camp. He did in fact know a bit about Will Solace. So, it's not the in the moment thing but a gradual and slow process where the two explore their friendship and after the war their blossoming relationship.

And Annabeth and Percy just facepalming not understanding how Will and Nico are this oblivious. Grover is just like "oh yeah, totally doesn't sound like a pair i know.”

And Percy always invites Nico for every holiday and at some point Nico practically lives with the Jacksons. Sometimes they talk about Bianca and Nico tries to rediscover the things he had forgotten with Hades and Percy's help while also trying to find this new him.

And throughout this process, he will always have a family.

The only reason Bianca felt safe leaving Nico was because she trusted Percy to take care of him and Percy hoped he was doing a good job at it.

And even when times will get rough, Nico will know that he will always have a home with Percy and Annabeth.