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macabr3-barbi3 · 1 year ago

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CTRL ALT DELETE- Task Manager (Vox/Reader)

Something's up with Vox and you offer to help troubleshoot- it both does and does not go how you're expecting it to.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54688282

The least serious thing I've ever written: inspired by the time i started a timer in class one day to see how long my teacher talked about her son instead of teaching us; i ended up realizing 4 months later that i never stopped the timer and it was just running in the background and making my shit slow that entire time lmao there's a screenshot in the ao3 notes

Tags: Stress Relief, Sexual Tension, Chair Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Begging, Computers. Dirty Talk, very basic knowledge of computers

<3<3<3<3<3<3

Your new boss seemed stressed.

Not in the usual way that he was stressed, either- the note from the assistant you had replaced was that usually when Vox was having an off day he would call for Valentino or have you pull a list of low earners for the month, banishing you from the room in either case. But he hadn’t spent any time with Val in months, basically the entire time that you’d been working with him as a personal assistant after getting promoted from a stage grunt for the news channel.

You had thought for a bit that he might make a move- that maybe that was why he promoted you, that he was charmed enough by you to end the on/off thing he had going on with Val, which made sense based on the timing. But when you tested that theory recently- made double entendres, brushed your hands against his arms or leg or back, blatantly invited him out for dinner and drinks- he didn’t seem interested. He declined your invite, allowed you to touch him without being overcome with lust, and the sex jokes just seemed to go whoosh.

Right over his head.

He was on edge and twitchy. He took longer to respond to things than he normally did, his processors slow, occasionally getting a ‘buffering’ message that flashed across his screen when someone asked a question. His hypnotic eye seemed to be suffering as well, the swirls having slowed down now to the point that they were no more mesmerizing than watching paint dry. It was frustrating and enraging him, and in turn frustrating you- he was fucking hot when he was angry, which didn’t help your attraction to him that he was ignoring.

He was sitting at his desk in the control room when you entered, head in his hands as he stared at a piece of paper on his desk. The monitors were all lit behind him, showing recorded footage of the Tower throughout the day- you spotted a short recording of yourself talking to some of the marketing team a few hours ago. Like a Valentino caricature he read the paper, blinked his eyes a couple times, read it again. Picked it up and pulled it closer to his face like that would help, and his screen scrolled the words along the bottom like his internal system was trying to transcribe it so something he could understand. He finally dropped the paper with a groan, letting it flutter to the floor where it slipped under his chair and stopped just before you.

“Are you okay, sir?” The question is out before you can stop it, and as was the normal recently it took a few minutes for him to answer.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he muttered, swiveling around to look at you. He clutched the sides of his screen, eyes narrowed and mouth delayed in its movements as he spoke. “I feel like I can’t focus on anything. I can’t process anything. My- just, fucking everything is slow and useless in my head right now! How am I supposed to be a master media manipulator when I can’t fucking concentrate for more than two minutes at a time?”

“You have seemed more… stressed than usual,” you agree. “Are none of your usual relaxing activities helping? Or have you done any troubleshooting?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

“Troubleshooting,” you say again, and at his blank stare you chuckle a little. “You know, doing a couple ‘quick fix’ things to see if that’s what’s causing the problem. Do you have like, a cache or something that you have to clear? An archive dump to get rid of old files?” You let your eyes track his body from top to bottom. “I’m not super familiar with how your… anatomy works?”

God, but you wanted to be.

He blinks a couple times. “I think I used to have someone that did that for me,” he says. “Years ago. I fired them because it didn’t seem necessary, I was running perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, well, that might be what the problem is.” You offer him a soft smile. “Sometimes stuff will work in sub-optimal conditions for a while before it starts causing issues. I used to do programming customer support when I was alive- it’s been a while but I could take a look if you want?”

His mouth twists in a frown. “I guess so,” he agrees. “I’m desperate enough to try anything. I need to be able to fucking concentrate if the Vees are gonna stay on top, everyone fucking knows that Val is hopeless with the business aspect of everything.” He gets the buffering symbol on his screen for a few seconds, groaning and shaking his head as he clears. “What do you need access to?”

“Do you have a way to access your… system? Externally,” you clarify. “I’m not a surgeon- I don’t plan on cutting into you to get to anything.”

Vox gestures behind him. “I can hook up to the monitors,” he says, “but we’ll have to be pretty close, doll. I have to be sitting here to be hooked up, and since this is the only chair, looks like this will have to be your seat.” He pats a hand on his thighs, not so much an invitation as a statement.

You fucking wished. You know this isn’t him trying to initiate anything though- you’d been trying for long enough that you’re ready to give it up and just accept that your hot, overlord boss didn’t want to fuck you. Helping him out felt more important than that anyway, so you would do your best.

“You got it,” you say, and cross the remaining space to perch yourself gracefully on his lap. You push the inappropriate thoughts about how firm his muscles are underneath you- how exactly did this man’s body work? Was it really just his head that was not organic matter?- and let him rotate the chair back to face the monitors.

The sight is intimidating, as is the position- you’re surrounded by reflections of yourself from every angle, Vox’s lithe frame seated behind you. This is where he does most of his business, the background site of everything that VoxTec handles. And he’s trusting you to help him fix whatever is wrong with him so he can get back to handling all of that, free of distraction.

You watch as thick wires come up from the floor to plug into the back of his head, the sharp hiss making you wonder if it was painful or intrusive. You won’t ask though, not when you’re getting ready to try to restore him to his usual ruthless self; he might consider that to be prying.

He pulls something up on the main monitor, the one that sits directly across from you, and waves a hand to it. A little keyboard and mouse emerge from the desk as the monitor powers on, and when you glance back you can see the same thing reflected on his face. “Have at it,” you hear him say, even though you can’t see his mouth moving.

Ignoring his open programs for the time being in case he needs any of them, the first thing you do is go in and clear his archived files. He’s got entire terabytes of useless information; employee records for people that have been dead or fired for decades; funny videos that he saved; resources for old news stories that are no longer relevant. Some of it you help him upload to a cloud server- after explaining to him what a cloud server is- and create files to designate for actual important shit.

You find the internal browser that he uses to pull information on the fly and help him clear the cache and cookies.

You help him sort security footage from Vee Tower and get rid of stuff that wasn’t actually necessary, like the short bits of static and dead air that happened whenever he used the cameras to teleport around the building. Everything that he has saved about mentions of that fucking radio demon also goes into the garbage. There are some files you can’t access, things like his memories and day to day recordings of conversations and things that he personally is part of.

You delete what you can and empty the recycling bin.

As the process has gone on, Vox has relaxed more and more behind you. “I still don’t feel completely back to normal,” he murmurs, “but this is already loads better. It’s like a massage directly on my brain. You know, if I still physically had one.”

You hit the keys to open his task manager- CTRL ALT DELETE. “Unholy fuck- Jesus, sir, if you thought that was good this is gonna feel orgasmic,” you say absently, scrolling through the opens apps and programs that he has running. Has this man ever closed anything? You hadn’t realized a person or device could even have so many things going at once. “Do you just leave everything open in the background?”

He peers around your shoulder, bracing his hands on your hips as he sits up a little straighter. The movement causes your stomach to drop, arousal threatening to make itself known, but you push the notion down as he sets his hands back on the arms of the chair. “I guess so?” He watches you scroll through the extensive list. “I guess it just never occurred to me to close them. Opening the programs to use is just like my stream of consciousness I suppose.”

“Kay, well, that’s stopping now.” You click on the first item on the list- VoxtaGram. “I recommend closing non-essential stuff out at least once a month. More, if you have the time to go through everything. For now, just in case, there is something important we’re gonna go through some of the more recently opened things, set them up to open automatically when you start up, before we reboot your system- wait, can we reboot your system entirely without killing you?”

“No worries there, dear. I can, I just haven’t done it in years because it can take a while to start back up afterwards.” He sneers at the social media page. “You can close that shit. Any of Velvette’s crap she can handle on her own. Same with any of the fucking games that Val loads up when he’s bored- can I delete those entirely? Or block them? Fucking moth and his blue-light addiction…”

You get through a lot of the list, Vox kind of dozing off and only passively participating in the process. You’ve got the gist of it; things like his news sources, contacts list and phone, and the notes app are staying open and set to automatically launch when he does reboot and start back up. Pretty much everything else is closed out, things he pulled up for two seconds weeks ago to check on something or another before abandoning it. You’re making excellent progress when the next thing on the list gives you pause.

“Vox? Why is this- oh my god.” You can’t help it- you start laughing, throwing your head back to rest on his shoulder as you look at what’s now displayed on the screen.

A stopwatch had apparently been started and never stopped. The elapsed time was over three thousand hours, which came out to something like four months if your mental math was correct. He had had this running constantly in the background since you had started working for him, possibly even before. “I think I found the problem,” you chuckled, and his eyes were narrowed as he looked at the timer continuing to tick. “What is this?”

“What the actual fuck?” He buffers for a second- and you’re pleased to note that it’s already much faster than it has been lately- before you hear a dinging sound coming from him. ‘Fucking Hell, I should have known this was all Valentino’s fault.” He drags a clawed hand down his screen in an imitation of a facepalm. “I was timing him. He was fucking ranting about Angel Dust again while we were in a strategy meeting with Velvette- I had the stopwatch going to see how much of the hour session he wasted talking about that whore. I must have forgotten to turn it off.” He barks out a laugh, throwing his head back with the force of it while you look at him with amusement. “I’m gonna owe you big time for this, doll, you’re a lifesaver.”

You close the app out with a smile. “Just trying to help,” you say. “I think that was probably the worst of it- do you want to just try rebooting now?”

He lets out a groan when the app closes, and the sound shoots through your body straight to your core. “Go for it, hun,” he says, eyes closed as he leans back against the chair. “I think I’m good to go now, but it can’t hurt. You were right, sorting this shit out feeling fucking good.”

You’re suddenly very aware of the dampness of your panties as you bypass ‘kinda horny’ straight to ‘fuck me on this desk.’ You scold yourself mentally: Don’t jump your boss. He’s trusting you to help him right now- do not take advantage of that. Do not ride his leg like you very clearly want to because his voice is fucking hot. Fucking focus.

You clear your throat, closing out the task manager and hitting the button to restart him. “See you in a bit, sir.”

You stay seated on his lap just in case- he might still have something he wants you to do when he comes back online, some settings you could apply to close out things that are used for more than a week or so. It’s definitely not because you like the feeling of his strong thigh underneath you, tantalizingly close to your cunt if you, by chance, decided to tilt your hips forward and start grinding down on him.

After just a few minutes get a message on the main monitor telling you to wait a moment- things start popping up on the other screens surrounding the central one, and it takes you a moment to recognize the pattern.

Its all videos of you- shot from Vox’s perspective, and a mortifying blush takes over your face. They’re all the moments that you had tried coming onto him. The innuendos and subtle entendres, the times that you touched him, pressed yourself against him in a tight space despite having another way to get to the copy machine, when you had invited him out for dinner. There’s also videos where he had just been watching you, apparently, taken from a distance as you spoke with Velvette or passed instructions along to a member of the team or discreetly tried to hide behind a vending machine when you noticed Val coming into a room.

There’s a satisfied grumble behind you, and before you can turn to look at him Vox has settled his claws onto either side of your waist and shifted you over a bit, to rest directly on the erection straining his pants.

Which is a surprise, albeit a pleasant one.

“Thanks for the reset, doll,” he says, and his voice is a quiet growl as he lets his hands wander from your waist to your hips and back again, claw tipped fingers catching on the fabric. “I got a chance to look at some files while I was under and found quite the treat in your logs.”

This could either be very bad or very, very good. “Sir-”

“You know, I’m usually pretty good at picking up what a woman is putting down. Imagine my surprise when I realize you’ve been coming onto me for weeks and my shit was so fucked up and bogged down that I didn’t even notice. Like that?” He uses one hand to point to a screen in the far left of the central monitor, while he snaked his other hand down to rest on your thigh, his hand large enough to encompass the muscle at the edge of your skirt. On the screen, you had come to his office to drop off meeting notes for something you attended on his behalf. You had dropped the stack as you came around his side of the desk, and got down fully on your knees to pick them up, glancing up at him through your lashes. You blush watching it now- it had seemed obvious to you even then, but watching it now, the way that Vox had seen it? When he didn’t say anything about you being face level with his prick you had used a hand on his thigh to brace yourself to stand up, letting your fingers run along the inner seam of his trousers when you rose back to standing. Still no reaction, and you had left his office equal parts turned on and irritated with yourself. Him not having acted on it had been the final nail in the coffin cementing the fact that he was not interested in the slightest.

You let out a weak exhale as the Vox sitting under you gets his other hand in the same position as the first, using his grip to ever so slightly spread your legs on his lap. He lets his fingers skim your inner thighs and you shake with the effort of not begging him to just touch you. This was delicious, agonizing torture.

“Had I been in my right mind for that display, baby, I would have fucking ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟n̫̫̘̗͕̲̲̎ͥḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧd̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡.” His voice crackles and glitches on the last words, and the sound of it forces a moan from your throat as you let your head fall back. You clutch your hands to the arms of the chair as his tongue- and who even really knew he had a tongue, what the fuck?- licks down the side of your jaw and at your exposed neck. “I would have had you choking on my cock before getting a taste of that sweet cunt and fucking you into the desk for hours.”

One hand finally slips under the edge of your skirt and you shiver when his fingers make contact with your soaked core. “Is that what you want now, babygirl? You want me to give you my cock as thanks for helping to set me straight? To make up for lost time?” He slides a finger under the thin material of your panties, groaning in your ear at how slick he finds you. “That’s what I want, doll. I want you to ride me so hard you go stupid with the feeling, and you never feel whole without some part of me in your cunt for the rest of for-fucking- ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧv̹̹̘̼̞̻͆ͩ̓ͪ͢ḛ̡̰̳͓̥ͬ͋ͪͧṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟.”

“Fuck, please,” you gasp out, the word devolving into a cry as Vox finally slides a finger into you, mindful of the claws as he pushes in and quickly follows the first with a second. He uses his free hand to hold your hips still as you try to grind into his digits, keeps you held firmly against his erection as you squirm in pleasure.

His sharp fingertips angle to prod gently at a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars; your eyes are clenched shut as you ride the feeling, so close to the edge you feel like you’re going to implode with the force of it when you finally tip over. “Fuck, sir, please, so c-close,” you mumble, and his tongue is back to licking at whatever parts of your skin it can reach.

“You wanna come like this, sweetheart?” The main monitor in front of you glitches out, and when it comes back into focus you see yourself on the screen- like a mirror, you’re reflected, and you can see Vox’s grinning face behind you. Your skin is flushed, sweat dripping down your face, the hint of tears along your lashline as your mouth drops open when he adds a third finger. “Look fuckin’ beautiful, baby, you were made for this- maybe we give Valentino a call, he could-”

“No!” You release the arms of the chair to grab onto his wrists where his hands meet your body. “No one- no one but you, sir. Vox, please, l- let me come. Please?” You let a little whine into your voice, and you can see the way his mouth goes lax and his eyes laser-focus on where you’re grabbing at his hands.

“I didn’t mean to join us, dollface, just to record- but you’re right, you’re right.” He pulls his fingers from your pussy, slicing the center of your panties in the process before he brings his digits to his mouth- you watch on the screen as he curls his tongue around each one, licks the flavor of you from his skin and glitches out at the taste. “How could I possibly share such a fucking vision with anyone else?

He shifts you to one side so he can get his dick out, and the sight of it in the monitor, his own arousal beading at the top and rock hard, has you whimpering before it’s even inside of you. He carried himself like a man with a big cock, but Christ.

“Hope you like what you see, hun, cause it’s all yours.” He scoots forward in the seat, tilts his hips forward for the right angle, and moves you back into your previous position with ease- this time, the tip of him is pushing inside you, and you watch in the monitor as you sink inch by glorious inch onto him.

Once you’re fully seated, Vox seems to lose capability for rational thought. “Fuck me, you’re perfect,” he moans, bracing his feet more firmly on the ground to thrust up into you, getting a firm grasp on your hips to pull you down into it. The result is a beautiful stab at that sweet spot inside of you that makes you clench and cry out, watching Vox’s hypnotic eye start spiraling at its normal speed on the screen, and you can see backwards scrolling text of his stream of thoughts- a bunch of nonsensical letters and cuss words interspersed with your name. “I want to fucking- chain you to my desk so I can have this perfect pussy whenever I want it. Fuck, I can’t believe we- we could have been doing this for weeks.” He punctuates his sentence with a hard thrust.

“A-all the more reason to regularly clear your task manager, sir,” you say, so caught up in the feeling of him railing you from below that you can hardly believe you formed a coherent thought. He feels so fucking good and you’re a hair trigger away from collapsing and wringing him for all he’s got.

With one quick movement he’s shifted, and there’s a hand on your throat arching you backwards at the same time that he gets a couple clawed fingers rubbing at your clit. The shock of the combination makes you flutter around his length, a choked noise escaping your throat before he tightens his grip- not enough to really cut off your air supply, but enough that your brain starts going soft and mushy and the vice grip your cunt has on his cock gets impossibly tighter. You can see the shine of your slick arousal coating him every time he pulls out to rut back into you, and the sights and sounds are threatening to rip you into the chasm of ecstasy that you’re flirting with.

“Vox,” you whine, “please, I’m so fucking- please please please-“

“Christ, babygirl, whatever you fucking want.” His eyes are wide and frantic as they watch the place you’re joined, his mouth set in a snarl as he fucks into your pliant body. The cry you release is nothing short of agonized- it’s so fucking close you can taste it, nearly overwhelmed with the tension.

“You wanna fucking cum on my cock? Do it, angel, let me see it- come on, baby, cum for me-“

Your walls clench down hard as you reach your orgasm, Vox’s grip on your throat making your vision and mind go fuzzy with the force of it as you choke on a moan that tries to escape your tensed muscles. You’re distantly aware of Vox thrusting hard into you, more praise and curses falling from his lips as he hits his peak as well, pressing his screen to the side of your face when he relinquishes his handle on your throat to clutch at your hips and grind into your cunt as he spills inside of you. The aftershocks of your release leave you twitching, milking his cock of everything he has to offer before he collapses into the chair behind you, a boneless pile of a man now simply running his hands over any bit of skin he could reach.

It’s truly a testament to how helpful the reset and reboot had been that Vox’s system doesn’t simply crash. “Fucking Hell, I haven’t felt this good in decades,” he mutters in your ear, and you shiver at the feeling of his tongue brushing the sensitive skin.

“Ha, you think that’s the reboot or the mind-melting orgasms?”

He hums contentedly. “Jury’s out on that, doll. Guess we’ll have to do a re-run on both and see how it stacks up to this one.”

“I’ll make sure to schedule some time out for it,” you chuckle before fixing him with a stern glare through the monitor. “I’m serious about clearing your apps and shit more frequently though. Christ, you had decades of backed up shit open-“

“Don’t berate me while my dick is still inside you, fuck.” He leans you forward far enough to pull out, and you grimace at the feeling of his cum starting to spill back out of you. He notices the expression though- “Whoops, sorry,” he says, and after a quick second during which he tucks his softening prick away he scoops you into his arms, standing from the chair and stepping away from the desk. “Let’s get you cleaned up at the penthouse, angel, what do you say?”

“If you’re carrying me then lead the way.” You gesture towards the door out of the control room. “Just don’t start any timers to see how long it takes to get there or anything and we should be good.”

The glare he fixes you with shouldn’t be hot, but it fucking is. “Hardy har,” he deadpans, and rolls his eyes while he stalks towards the elevator, control room door closing behind you; but there’s a small smile on his screen despite his ire and he’s functioning normally, and when you see the little stopwatch icon pop up in the bottom right corner of his face and start counting, you can’t help but laugh.

#vox x reader #vox smut #hazbin vox #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #hazbin hotel #x reader #my stuff <3

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 6 months ago

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i've got your back l Frankie "Catfish" Morales

Summary: in hard times you needed him the most

Warnings: sexual allusions, some kissing, worried Frankie, dozing Reader, some tears, anxiety, no plot

A/N: comforting Frankie. Frankie who looks after you when you're going through a hard time. this isn't a story about anything specific. i barely created a plot for a few images i had in my head. i need something like that… i need someone to look after me even when i say i'll manage because i'm strong and independent. yes i'm starting my exams soon…

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Frankie Morales masterlist]

His heart broke as he looked at you. It had been going on for over a week, maybe two. Three? There was no way all this could have been going on for three weeks.

Frankie was leaning against the door frame and watching you in silence. You were sitting over your notes, quietly mumbling the next words you wanted to remember, circling the most important things with colored markers, looking into your books or the computer every now and then. The spare room you had, where you kept your things "temporarily", had become your place for some time now.

When you told Frankie a while ago that you were considering going back to school, he supported you immediately. It was a brilliant idea! He always thought that you were really smart and he was glad that you wanted to do something for yourself and fulfill one of your dreams.

You have talked about the pros and cons of this idea more than once. After a few days, you would sit next to him again, saying "Frankie, this probably isn't a good idea..." so he once again gave you answers to all your doubts and promised that he was on your side.

Excitement and delight were written all over your face every time you returned from class to your apartment. You told him about your new friends, your professors, and what you did in class. God! You looked so gorgeous he wanted to kiss you, and he did it every time you stopped to catch your breath.

You combined work with school, which was hard, but the support your boyfriend gave you was like a solid foundation. His broad shoulders protected you from the world, but at the same time allowed you to cry when you needed it.

And then the difficulties began.

Exams, essays you had to write, books you had to read, and work on top of that. Frankie considered you some kind of fucking hero because you managed it all.

He tried to do as many household chores as possible so you wouldn't have to worry about laundry or cleaning. Besides, it wasn't a problem for him. You were a team, right? Partners.

When you came back from work and saw a warm dinner on the table, or that Frankie had folded the laundry - you wanted to cry. You have been crying quite often lately.

The tiredness started to get to you. You would come back from work and almost immediately sit down to study. It was a hard time.

"Baby?" he finally said, but you didn't react. "Hermosa?"

"Mhm?" you mumbled something, probably without even realizing it.

"I made dinner, you must be hungry."

"Mhm."

He walked up to you and put his giant hands on your shoulders, kissing the top of your head. "Take a break, hermosa. Your brain is starting to smoke."

"I can't remember this." you mumbled quietly. "I keep repeating it and repeating it, but none of it stays in my head."

"Maybe you should take a day off, huh? Your head will rest, you need it."

You buried your face in your hands and sighed loudly. You knew Frankie was right. He loved you, he took care of you every day and you adored him for it. But you had this terrible perfectionism in you, this need to prove yourself, that you were good enough for this and could do anything.

He finally managed to get you in for dinner, but it wasn't what he expected. After a few bites, you started stabbing your food with your fork, clearly lost in thought.

"Pope invited us to a barbecue next weekend," he said, taking a sip of his beer. "We could go, huh?"

"Mhm."

Frankie swallowed. "A new Italian place opened up near where I work. It looks promising. Do you want to go?"

Another grunt. He frowned a little worried.

"I decided to get a big dragon tattooed on my chest, and then paint our living room red. What do you think?"

"Mhm."

"Hermosa..." he sighed, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You're not listening to me."

Jesus, your eyes looked so sad as you looked at him. "I'm sorry, babe. I was lost in thought..." your voice broke "You tried so hard, you made dinner and everything, and all I can think about is that damn exam... I'm a terrible girl."

"Don't say that, I won't let you." he said "We're having a hard time, but we'll get through this together. I've got your back, right?"

"Yeah..." a weak smile appeared on your lips "I hope that when this is over I'll be able to make it up to you."

"I think I'll find some ideas." Frankie winked and kissed the back of your hand.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you."

You loved him. Damn, you loved him and you wanted him to be proud of you. Meanwhile, you felt that you were failing everything in your relationship. When was the last time you had sex?

You tried to forget about that one humiliating moment when you fell asleep before Frankie could take off your panties. He joked about it, but you felt ashamed.

But when it was all over... You were waiting for the last exam with fear and hope. After all of this, you would spend the whole weekend in bed with Frankie, fucking, sleeping, fucking again and eating the food you ordered. It was the perfect plan.

You couldn't sleep. The night before the last exam, you lay in bed with your eyes wide open, listening to Frankie's quiet snores. His assurances that you were perfectly prepared were of no use, after all, he questioned you three times and once more before he fell asleep. All the information you tried to remember was smashing through your head. One word. Fuck! You couldn't remember it.

Frankie mumbled quietly when you freed yourself from his arms, but you pushed your pillow into them and soon he started breathing evenly again.

He didn't expect that. When he woke up in the morning in bed alone, he was disoriented. And he didn't expect to find you sleeping on the desk even more.

"Baby..." he stroked your back, but you didn't even move "Hermosa, get up. I wish you could sleep, but you have to get ready."

"W-What?" you stuttered, lifting your head slightly "What time is it?"

"After seven. Take a shower, I'll make you coffee."

The note that was stuck to your cheek tore off and fell to the floor. For a few seconds you both stared at it in silence, too sleepy to react. Eventually you got up.

The shower didn't bring any relief. You spent some time struggling with your bra, but you finally managed to put it on. You sobbed for a while before you left the bathroom, but then you wiped your cheeks so Frankie wouldn't see it.

He noticed it right away. Nothing could hide from him. A cup of coffee and scrambled eggs, but you barely ate anything. He promised to take you to school, because he was afraid your nerves wouldn’t allow you to get there safely.

"I'll text you when I get out." You said, hugging him tightly. "Keep your fingers crossed."

"Always, hermosa. Kick their asses. I love you."

You entered the building on shaky legs.

Your face lit up when you walked out of the building three hours later and saw Frankie leaning against the car door with his arms folded across his chest. You quickly said goodbye to your friends and almost ran up to him.

Before he could say anything, you threw your arms around his neck, hugging him tightly.

"I did it! I did it!"

Strong arms wrapped around you tightly and he lifted you up. "Amazing! I told you, hermosa. No one will get in your way!"

Your hands grabbed his face and your lips collided in a hard kiss. You felt like you were kissing him for the first time. All the weight of the last few weeks, the stress and anxiety, all of it melted away the moment you saw Frankie.

"You should be at work." You noticed between the kisses you showered on his face, jaw and neck.

"And I was supposed to leave my woman alone in this hellish place? You don't know me that well, babe." he chuckled "I'm ready to spend the whole day with you. I'm taking you out for dinner. You must be really hungry."

Your stomach made a strange sound at his words. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I feel like I haven't eaten all week."

Frankie raised his eyebrows and nodded. "That's possible. Get in, hermosa. I'm taking you out of here."

Once you were seated and fastened your seatbelt, Frankie reached for something in the back and suddenly a small but lovely bouquet of flowers appeared before your eyes.

"I thought this might make you happy." he said, a little embarrassed. "You know, I knew you were prepared perfectly, but..."

Tears glistened in your eyes and your lips pouted. "Frankie..." you whimpered.

"Don't you like them?" he asked with fear.

"They're beautiful!" you sobbed. "And you... And you're so amazing!" tears ran down your cheeks "You supported me all this time, and I had to be so awful to you..."

"Sweetie, please..." he wanted to interrupt you, but you wouldn't let him.

"No, Frankie! Listen. If it weren't for you... You give me such support, you help me so much... I want you to know that I really see it and appreciate it. I have a huge guilty conscience for what happened recently. We didn't have time for each other, I was nervous, I cried every now and then. But you never said a bad word to me."

"That's what people who love each other do, babe. You're my gem, I couldn't have done it any other way."

You put your hand on the back of his neck and moved closer so quickly that you knocked his hat off his head, but he didn't care when he tasted your lips again.

His heart was full. Frankie felt like you had returned to his arms after a long journey, even though you never really left them. His tongue slipped between your lips and he felt his cock twitch slightly at the pleasant tenderness. Christ, he missed you so much.

"Take me home, Frankie." You said quietly after a moment, resting your forehead on his. "I want to be with you now."

"Aren't you hungry?"

You shook your head. "We'll order something later. I just want to be with you now."

He pecked your lips once more and started the engine. He felt pride, happiness, love and peace. You were next to him. You were his again. And even though he knew you'd probably turn into a walking hurricane a few more times, it didn't scare him. Together you were able to go through anything. You were his woman. Smart, beautiful, wonderful. He could do it all again so you could fulfill your dream.

"I love you, Frankie." You said quietly, and he kissed the back of your hand without taking his eyes off the road. "I've got your back."

"And I've got yours."

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

#pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #francisco catfish morales

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evandsolo · 6 months ago

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𝐈𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Bang Chan

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Bang Chan x f!reader 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : royalcore!Bang Chan. Flirt. Smut (more suggestive than fully described but still.) MDNI 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 3.426 𝐏𝐥𝐨𝐭 : Amid whispers of silk and shadows, a lady-in-waiting and the kingdom's fiercest general find themselves entangled in a dance of flirtation and unspoken promises. WARNING UNDER THE CUT ! UNDERAGED PEOPLE PLEASE DO NOT READ! 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : This was actually written for one of my friend whose a Stay ! But i thought it should not stay in my computer, so enjoy ! ✿ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, unprotected sex, fingering, aftercare. Please let me know if i've forgotten any.

The room was packed. The orchestra had played non-stop for hours. The rustling of silk and taffeta had filled the room all evening. It was a magnificent reception. One that no one will forget. One of those evenings that celebrate love and union. The ballroom was decorated with flowers, from floor to ceiling, the buffets overflowing with food. I had never seen such beautiful decorations before. Everything was simply sublime. Generals, soldiers, highnesses from all the surrounding kingdoms, everyone breathed joy and jubilation.

I could never have dreamed of a more beautiful event for the princess I had accompanied my entire life. Alina deserved the union of love she had experienced today, so much did her heart overflow with love and kindness. Everyone knew it, she would be a wonderful sovereign.

The crowd had ended up scattering, dissipating, as the night wore on. The bride and groom had received many congratulations until the last minute. They too had ended up slipping away, to enjoy this new union together. Only a few people remained in the room, who were still accompanying the orchestra. Some were still waltzing and would surely do so until dawn.

“You’re not dancing?” A voice called out from behind me, over the flying notes of the violins. “You’ve been here all night, making merry for everyone, but you haven’t stepped on the dance floor once.”

I turned around to look at the person who had surprised me, tearing a heartbeat from my chest. I come face to face with broad shoulders, covered in a velvet soldier's jacket. My breath chokes in my throat. I would recognize these shoulders among many others. General Bahng, head of the kingdom's armies.

“How do you know I did not dance, sir ?” I answered, catching his huge brown eyes.

It wasn't the first time we met. He was always there, around, since Alina's engagement. Watching over her, over the kingdom. I was always lucky enough to be able to admire him. He wasn't very tall, but he knew perfectly how to handle swords, which didn't take away from the natural charisma he gave off. In the outfit he wore tonight, in the colors of the kingdom, he shone all the more. A few strands of rebellious hair fell over his forehead and his smile could have melted any of the ladies present tonight.

“I’ve been watching you. You’re glowing, how could I look away?” He said with an amused smile. The sparkle in his eyes had never seemed so bright to me as it did at that very moment.

“So you didn’t have an eye on the bride and groom? You’re failing in your duty, General.” My tone echoed his. I clasp my hands behind my back, looking completely innocent. “Thank you for the compliment.”

“Come dance with me. That way I can keep an eye on the apple of the kingdom.” He then extends his gloved hand towards me and I observe him for a few seconds before slipping my hand into his. “I hope you are a good dancer, General. I wouldn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of this huge crowd.” I joked before following him a few steps further, onto the dance floor.

The last couple still present leaves the dance floor and we find ourselves alone, with just the orchestra. The violins begin to resonate, then all the sweetest notes of the wind instruments follow and finally, the piano rises in turn.

I feel his hand come to close on my waist while the other one tangles around my fingers. We were so close that I could feel his breath, crashing on my face. I come to place my hand on his shoulder and in rhythm, we begin to waltz. His eyes catch mine and I think that at that precise moment, I forget reality. I dive into his gaze and there is nothing more than him and me. Everything disappears in the room, as if a bubble had formed around us.

The music takes me somewhere else. I forget everything, I think of nothing more, except the warmth he diffuses in the hollow of my waist. The ease with which we understood each other in gestures. Everything seemed terribly natural. As if we had always danced together. Then, his hand leaves mine, to come and grab my waist, letting me gently go backwards, before coming back to hold me against him. His smile does not dissipate and in his gaze, I see only joy and a certain form of tenderness, which I had never seen in him. My smile became wider as my cheeks turned a little bit rosier.

“Why're you blushing ?” He said. “Are you that surprised to see that I can dance ?”

“Actually, I am ! I never thought you were so talented. I have to admit that the surprise is rather pleasant.” I admitted, with a slight smile. “Did you practiced for this evening?”

“Not for tonight in particular. But any self-respecting man must know how to turn his date’s head. And I was hoping one day to have the chance to make you twirl.”

Those words took my breath away. For a few seconds, I found myself staring at him without really understanding. Our steps stopped abruptly and I almost fell, tripping over his feet. Have I heard correctly? Or even understood what he meant?

“Be careful my Lady.” He said, catching you. “ Never thought that admitting I've been thinking about you day and night, would have that effect on you.” I see the mischievous glow in her eyes and the small smile that adorned her lips. All signs that did not deceive. I had understood well the first time.

“ You can't say that, General.” I mumbled, blinking a few times trying to stop the rush in my chest.

I could not deny the fact that the General was probably the most handsome man I had ever seen, nor even the attraction that might exist between him and me. It was not the first ball we shared, there had always been this particular feeling in the hollow of my belly when he was close. Like a cloud of butterflies, which suddenly fly away. My gaze was undeniably drawn to him. 8So hard that it was difficult to look away. There had always been this tension between him and me. That kind of invisible link, against which I could not go.

“Why? I have said nothing...” he breathes with a smile of amusement, making me whirl again, before stopping on my wrist. His thumb traces the edge of the ribbon that was tied on it. A garnet red satin ribbon. A gift he made me at the last ball we attended. We had been talking until late at night, by the fountain in the winter garden of a neighboring kingdom’s castle. Around a huge bouquet, I found a ribbon, which he had untied, before coming to tie it around my wrist. He kept some in his jacket pocket. Since then, this piece of cloth has never left my skin. It was dear to me.

“You kept it...” he said in a whisper, the eyes shining with a new light. “It beautifully brings out your porcelain skin. Red suits you so well.”

“Why should I not keep it? You don’t throw away a present. I like it. It reminds me of that wonderful evening we shared.” Say I in a breath, while his thumb continues to electrify my skin, as he holds me so close, that I feel his breath on my cheek. In a graceful movement he makes me spin again on several turns, before abandoning me in the middle of the track, alone. His laughter echoes through the room as I look for him. I find him further away waving something red between his fingers. It is fine and above all, it reflects the light. I quickly understand what it is, when I look down on my wrist, now naked.

“If you want it.... Come and get it, My Lady.” He said before running away into the halls of the castle in a playful laugh.

“General ! Come back !” I shouted, before I set out to chase him.

I do not know how many corridors or intersections I take, just by following the echo of his laughter. It sounded like a little bell, which pointed the way. I felt my breath burning in my chest as I walked across the open patio to look for him. Suddenly, his laughter fades and I stop, my chest rising at a frantic pace, as I try to catch my breath.

“General, where are you hiding?” I throw, breathlessly. I hear noise on the stone behind me, but when I turn around there is no one. Frustration fills my entire being as I call again. "General? Give it back to me!”

“Don’t you like to play, my Lady ?” I heard, as a distant voice that reached me like an echo. I turned again to move forward, but I had the impression of chasing a ghost, under the lights of the torches that adorned the walls and the moon, which entered through the openings. I knew how much he loved to play. It was his thing. Charm and play. But tonight it was getting cold and especially it was late. Yet I wanted to get back what was mine.

As I turned into another corridor, wishing he was there on the other side waiting for me, a hand grabbed mine and I suddenly hit the cold wall. I found myself surrounded by his perfume, the scent of mint, mixed with apple, geranium and vanilla, intoxicating me. His breath is stranded in the hollow of my neck, all against my skin and it’s a huge shiver that runs through me.

“Do you plan on giving me my ribbon back now?” I throw while trying to keep up. He runs my skin with light kisses for a simple answer before facing me. “Don’t be so hasty... Why not make the evening last a little longer?” He said, drawing a line of kisses along my jaw.

“We’re in the middle of a corridor.... That’s not right. Someone might see us.” I whisper, eyes half closed, while one of my hands comes to slide around his neck, to go caress his hairline.

“Who cares ? Don’t you think we should finish what we started… that other night?” He stands up and looks into my eyes. I can read a lot of emotions in it. The glow that shines is no longer just playful. The flame that now inhabits his eyes, makes me shiver.

“Here? Now?” I ask, in a small voice. I had no apprehension, I was perfectly confident. “General. Your impatience will lose you...” I breathe, letting my hands slide on his shoulders.

“Here, now. I can no longer contain the envy that devours me. Is it worthwhile to wait? I want you.”

I want you.

These words resonate in me like an echo. They trigger like a cataclysm. Suddenly, I feel dizzy again, as if some barriers had fallen. I watch him lean down, getting closer and closer to kiss my cheek, then the corner of my lips. I lose breath.

“I want every inch of you.” He whispered against my skin, before locking his words in a kiss. It is hot, desperate. I savor the depth of it. I give it back with much more aplomb. Nothing holds me back. It was as if, all the desire I tried to restrain, had escaped to take possession of every cell in my body. One of his hands leaves my waist to go up along my bust and run down on my chest. The contrast between the warmth of his skin against the fabric and the freshness of the marble against my back, gives me the feeling of consuming myself on the spot.

I could feel this knot take possession of my belly, as our skins rub against each other, intertwine. I end by breaking the kiss, to let my lips run aground on his jaw. I feel his hands, on every inch of my skin, like a thirsty man looking for an oasis in the desert. Quickly I feel it in my back, come to grind the fabric of my corset. The latter is undone more quickly than it should be, piteously lying on the ground.

“I wanted you for so long… You cannot imagine how long my soul has been calling to you.” He utters between two kisses laid down along my skin, pulling me almost a whimper. I feel it coming to mark my skin along my bust, on the curve of my chest, up to my belly, covered with lace. His hands, meanwhile, were already exploring my legs, under the silk of my skirt. “Let me love you as no man will ever love you.”

“Love me. Make me yours.” I whisper slightly tilting my head back as I feel the pulp of his fingers go up along my thigh. It’s so close and my whole body is burning to know it even closer as it goes up. It’s slow. Almost too slow. It gives birth to desire in me, it animates, and gives me the impression of burning from within, so much the envy seems to consume me. I had never felt anything so strong, but never had I wanted it so much. I was his, in the shadow of the moon, only spectator of what was happening.

A moan escapes me as it makes its way under the fabric to seek what was most intimate in my core. I cling painfully to him, my hands seeking support where they found it to keep me in balance, while waves of pleasure are making their way into the hollow of my belly. His kisses rise up to come and run down my neck. His fingers were playing with me, as if he already knew me by heart. I could feel it everywhere and nowhere at once. On me, in me, it felt like it was in every inch of my core.

I come to tighten my grip on it, as I feel this bubble growing in the bottom of my stomach. It is threatening like a wave that grows again and again as it comes to stoke the fire. I drop my head on his shoulder in a moan. It is omnipresent, I feel like I have only him, all around me. To be surrounded only by his being, his perfume, his skin.

“Not so fast, my Lady.” he whispered in the hollow of my ear, coming to take off his hand, and I suddenly felt like an orphan. I wanted more. I whine in protest. I almost begged him with my gaze. I wanted it, without waiting. What was he playing at?

In a burst of frustration at having been cut off in my flight, I reversed our positions, to come in turn steal countless desperate kisses. I come to mark his neck, while I am busy on his jacket, which falls to the ground in a deaf noise. Quickly and clumsily, I come to untie his shirt to infiltrate my hands under the fabric. I needed his warmth, his touch, to feel his skin under my fingers. I feel him tremble at my passage, as I leave a line of wet kisses on his skin. I savor the lines drawn of his musculature under my fingers, tracing it without forgetting a tiny patch.

“Why make me wait if you wanted it so much?” I ask against his skin, as I now snatch up to the buckle of his belt. I trace it with my fingertips. “I don’t want to play anymore.” I mused as I now stared at his hungry look. “You knew I would die of envy. Why leave me there, consumed by desire?”

“It will only be more delicious.” He says in turn, as I slide my hand under his belt to feel all his desire, marked by the lack of space and the stretching of the fabric under my fingers. “It’s better to reach the summits together, my sweet.”

I finally untied the buckle of his belt, then the opening of his pants and let my hands venture to the edge of his underwear and finally under the elastic. I grasp the full measure of his desire, trapping a little bit of my lip between my teeth, without ever ceasing to stare at him. I could almost see the flame dancing in his eyes. There is lust, love, passion in the way he looks at me, while my hand plays with him, surrounds him, tastes him. As a fair return, of the game his hands had played a few moments earlier. A moan escapes his throat, and it’s my turn to leave his skin. I take my hand back, with a slight smile on my face. “Not so fast, Christopher...” I threw, amused, teasing him with his name muttered.

“I didn’t know you were such a player...” He said, as I came to prick my mouth with countless kisses, while I found myself again, cornered against the stone wall. His hands quickly come to grab the fabric of my dress to pull it up to my waist. The pulp of his fingers against my skin electrifies me and I gurgle with impatience against his lips. “P-Please…” I beg him with a breath, as his thumb touches me. I wanted it all. I wanted no more barriers between us. I’m busy sliding his pants down his thighs, while quickly, I feel the lace grounding at my feet.

Then, finally, he comes to grab one of my thighs and lifts it up against his hip, so that our bodies can align perfectly, and in a passionate kiss, our bodies unite, with a slowness, but a passion that knows no equal. He waits a few moments, before I look at him and beg him to continue. I feel it everywhere, in the slightest movement. Each thrust takes me into a world where there is no more than us.

I come to put my head in the hollow of his neck, to try to smother pitifully the moans that escape me, while he fills me with the most natural way. I feel it collides with the center of my pleasure and I cling not to lose my anchor with reality. But I feel the waves take possession of my lower abdomen. The knot is febrile, it threatens at any moment to explode and overwhelm me completely.

“More.. please…” I groaned against his skin, I needed more. I wanted to touch the heavens under his touch. He tightens his grip on my hips, before coming to slide his hands under my buttocks to lift me completely and I close my trembling legs around his waist. I feel it further away at each thrust and none of us is able to hold the slightest sound that escapes our bodies while our eyes cross again.

“You’re perfect.” He said, while thrusting harder, deeper, until I felt the knot exploding. My vision fills with stars, and for a few moments nothing is clear around me. My breath is short, jerky. I feel my core clenching around him as he reaches his high. He then let his head fall back on my shoulder, while he moaned my name in a last stroke.

Our bodies separate after a few seconds and I rest my feet on the ground, without really letting go. I still needed an anchor to make sure that I had not dreamt what had just happened.

“Are you okay, my Lady?” He blows, lifting the cloth up on his body to cover himself again. I nod my head, while taking a breath. “I am fine, marvellously fine.” I finally confirm without turning my eyes. “We should take care of you tonight.” He adds, while lifting me in his arms, making me laugh as I grab his neck. “ What a playful gentleman you are.” I chuckle, as my heart gently thumps in my chest. “Where are you taking me?” I finally ask, as he climbs the castle stairs.

“Where my love for you has no limits,” he said, with a smile full of riddles.

After making sure that everything was fine, the night ended between the delicate sheets of his apartments and I felt at last complete, surrounded by his tenderness, his laughter and his warmth. I felt more loved than ever.

I really hope you appreciated it, do not hesitate to reblog or to leave a note i’d love to read all about your thoughts. ✿ Evandsolo, 2025 ✿

#kpop imagines #stray kids imagines #bang chan #bang chan smut #bangchan x reader #skz smut #skz x reader #skz imagines #chan x reader

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blue-slxt · 2 years ago

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Imagine petite!human reader literally being used as a living fleshlight😩

Like she’s so small she can just be lifted off the ground and pounded🥴

Honestly don’t even care who it’s written for feels like a Jake, lo’ak, or quaritch kinda senecio

Sincerely, a no where near petite girlie

Thank you so much for your patience. I've been working on like a million different things at the same time so I am so behind on requests. But I looove this idea. Something about just being manhandled however your partner wants you to be is so fucking aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhhh😩! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this.

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

Smut under the cut.

“Make sure you don’t break my bed with your big ass.” You playfully scold Lo’ak while pulling on your spaghetti strap shirt. He flops his entire body weight onto your bed making it creak. It was times like this when you really took note of just how big of a size difference there was between you. Of course, the Na’vi were much bigger than average humans already, but you were even on the small side for humans. Watching how his body can’t fit properly on your bed while you could be swallowed whole by your sheets and blankets never ceased to amaze you. He waves you off with a ‘yeah, yeah’ while he makes himself comfortable putting his hands under his head. You roll your eyes at him and start to search through all the DVDs you have for something for you two to watch.

“What are you in the mood for this time? Something funny? Romantic? Dramatic?” you fire off the different genres as you toss aside disc after disc.

“Hmm…” he dramatically hums thinking about his answer.

You don’t bother to look at him while he mulls it over and you continue searching. You faintly comprehend the sound of him shuffling and moving around behind you, but you pay it no mind until a pair of big hands find their way on your small frame. Lo’ak’s lips brush lightly over the back of your neck and it almost tickles when he speaks.

“I think I’m in the mood for something sexy” he presses kisses onto your neck and shoulder.

“You are so corny” you say with a laugh, but you still lean into his touch anyway.

“Just put on whatever. I’d rather watch you anyway.” His low voice in your ear makes your nerves come alive with this intense fluttering all over your body. His impatience is rubbing off on you so you hurriedly throw whatever you can reach into the player without really bothering to look at what it is. Once the movie starts playing, you turn around to face Lo’ak and he immediately swipes you up off the floor and your legs lock around his waist while he presses his lips to yours. Holding onto him like this gives you the perfect feel of his cock straining against his tewng and poking you right between your legs. Clearly, he can feel it too from how his hands hold your hips and grind you down against him. Every move brushes against your covered clit and gives you small tingles of satisfaction, but it’s not enough. He’s got you so riled up now that you decide to have a little more fun and push his limits. On any given day, Lo’ak could, and would, fuck you until your body felt like jelly. But on occasion, he would lose himself and by the end, even your brain would feel numb and fuzzy filled with nothing but him possessing you completely. That’s exactly what you need right now.

Without warning, you unfold your legs from around him and let go completely dropping to your feet on the ground. His puzzled expression is nothing short of adorable.

“Shit, I just remembered that I have a report to finish” you say walking over to your computer desk and sitting down.

“Babe, you have got to be kidding me right now.” You were never one to deny Lo’ak what he asked for. Ever. Not even when you would join the clan for communal dinner and he would pull you off into the dark out of view of everyone else.

“It’s only going to take a few minutes, Lo.” You say sitting down and pulling your hair forward and exposing your neck. Lo’ak groans behind you. You know how much he loves when you present your neck for him to mark. He’s starting to catch on to your little game. If he wants it, he’s going to have to take it.

“If it’s only going to take a couple minutes, then do it after” he says pulling your chair away from your desk and over to the bed. He spins you around to face him and heat settles between your thighs at the way he’s eyeing you right now. “I need you, mamas.”

“You’re doing a whole lot of talking and yet, I’m still fully clothed” you say with a sly smirk.

He chuckles lowly to himself, “oh, you are asking for it.” In one swift motion, Lo’ak pulls you onto his lap by your waist. Your hands brace against his chest to keep yourself from flying forward. His face settles in the crook of your neck and he nips lightly at your skin making you jump.

“Now, am I going to have to rip these cute little shorts off of you or are you gonna behave and take them off yourself?”

“Don’t…I like these ones.” You whine.

“Then get rid of them. Right now.”

You shift yourself around so that you can maneuver out of your shorts while he pulls his tewng to the side to expose his thick, hard cock that was already leaking precum from the tip.

“Already so hard, love. Is that for m—”

“Don’t try to get cute with me” Lo’ak cuts you off by grabbing you by your waist and slamming you down onto his dick in one quick snap.

It feels like an electric shock is shot up your spine and goes straight to your head being immediately filled to the brim. He gives you no time to adjust before he’s fully lifting your body by your waist up and down on his cock.

“Ah! Fu-ck! Lo-ak!” Your words and breaths are broken from how he’s making you bounce on top of him.

“Shit, your pussy is so fuckin perfect” he says through gritted teeth.

His big hands on your smaller frame completely take control of your movements and you have no choice but to let him have his way with you. His dick continues to bully its way into your tight cunt and kiss your cervix making your toes curl.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum inside of you, mama. You want that, hm? Want me to fill you up?” his voice is lighthearted, but you can tell from the look in his eyes and his laser focus on you how close he really is and how badly he wants to give you everything.

“Yes, yes, yes, please Lo’ak!” your vision is already starting to spot as you near your own high while he keeps using you as his own personal fuck toy.

“Hng, shit!” he bucks his hips up to match the way he’s moving your body for you a few more times before the heat of his cum starts to fill you from the inside out. It sends you over the edge into your own orgasm and your pussy clamps down on him even tighter if that was even possible. Lo’ak sucks in a sharp breath feeling how tight you are around him and his forehead falls forward onto your chest waiting for you to stop milking him for all he’s worth.

His hands finally let go of your waist and they fall to sit on top of your thighs while you both try to catch your breath.

Suddenly the TV booms from across the room, “I am Bruce Almighty! My will be done!” making both of you snap your head in its direction.

“What the fuck movie did you put on?” Lo’ak laughs breathlessly.

“I have no fucking clue and I kind of don’t really care” you laugh equally out of breath. “But it looks like we still have some time before it’s over…” you lightly suggest.

He already knows what’s on your mind and a devilish smirk crosses his face.

#blue babbles #thanks anon!#thanks for the ask!#avatar #avatar the way of water #awow #avatar fic #loak sully #lo'ak #loak #lo’ak #avatar loak #loak x reader #loak fanfiction #atwow loak #loak smut #avatar smut

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phykios · 4 months ago

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Academic Dishonesty for Fun and Profit [read on ao3] 15k, rated G

Does Percy like his job?

Of course.

Well, mostly.

Kind of.

See, the thing is…

Percy is on his computer, which is half the problem.

There were a lot of things he could have been doing right now. Like grading, or finishing next semester’s syllabus, or responding to the avalanche of emails from anxiety-ridden freshmen and overbearing admins. Or grading. Gods, he has a lot of grading to do. Why hadn’t he listened to Paul when he said there was so much grading!

But to be fair, he is, technically, actually working right now, proctoring his Latin 3 exam. Never mind that he can definitely hear the kids in the front row whispering the answers to each other. Absently, he notes that Jamie has made leaps and bounds since her first Latin class—she’s the one supplying the answers this time around, rather than Junie.

But to be frank, the Minotaur could parade through the exam room in his tighty-whities and Percy wouldn’t care. Or even notice. He’s too busy refreshing his email over and over again, tapping Riptide against the wooden table.

Fucking ADHD.

He can’t focus on anything else, except for the fact that the mid-April soft deadline has long since passed, and he still hasn’t heard anything. Which could mean nothing. These things take time. Or it could mean he was rejected. Which would suck, of course, but it would also make things a lot simpler in terms of his immediate future. But there’s been no change to his application status since last December. So here he is. Not paying attention to the final. Refreshing his email.

Quickly flipping over to the Mythomagic subreddit, he refreshes that page, too. Nothing new.

He refreshes his email again. No news.

“Professor?”

Only years of battle training keeps him from jumping out of his seat. “Mm?”

Sierra, one of his straight-As, is standing before him, brandishing her exam. “I’m finished,” she announces, proudly.

He can see that. What, does she want a medal? “Great,” he says, “you can leave it on my desk and head out.”

“Actually, could I ask you a question?”

“...Sure.” He set down his pen, cautiously. “What’s up?”

She beams. “I was just wondering when you were going to post our last weekly quiz grades.”

Internally, he groans. “I'm working on it—promise.”

“Totally!” she chirps, “but have you gotten to mine yet? I was just wondering how—”

“I’m sure you did fine,” Percy interrupts, gently. Behind her, another student drops off his paper, and, blessedly, leaves without comment. “I’ll try and get the last of the quiz grades up in the next few days. Sounds good?”

Sierra nods, clearly disappointed. “Sure thing.”

But she doesn’t leave.

Percy rolls his tongue behind his teeth, counts to ten. “Was there anything else?”

“Yeah, so, a couple weeks ago, you mentioned the possibility of some extra credit? I’ve been reading Cicero, and I thought that maybe I could…”

But what Sierra was imagining she might do with Cicero, Percy will never know. Because, looking out of the corner of his eye, he sees that his email has just refreshed. And the subject reads “Application Update.”

His heart starts racing.

“...And so I have about three pages of an essay already written comparing him and Catullus and contemporary views on homo—”

Percy lifts a finger, and she falls silent, her jaw closing with an audible clack. “Sorry,” he says, tongue numb in his mouth. “Sorry, I’m so sorry, I just… gotta read this real quick.”

Fingers trembling, he moves his mouse, the cursor hovering shakily over the unread email. The email preview isn’t very long, a simple, “Thank you for your application to the…” which tells him literally nothing. He has to open it. All he has to do is press down, and open the email.

But his thumb won’t respond. The email remains unbolded, unread.

Just click already, he internally chides his thumb.

His thumb does not click.

Oh, for the love of—“Sierra?”

“Yeah?”

“I will give you one point of extra credit right now if you open this email for me.”

She blinks. “Seriously?”

“Two if you read it out to me.”

“Okay!”

Percy scoots out of the way, pressing his eyes into the palms of his hands. He might actually be sick.

He barely has a chance to hope that he didn’t leave anything embarrassing open on his computer, before her soft voice quotes, “Thank you for your application for the Campbell Fellowship for Bronze Age Research at the American Society of Underwater Archaeology. Attached is a letter about the status of your application.”

His heart is beating so loud, he’s surprised she can’t hear it. “Is that it?”

“Well, there’s also the letter.”

With his face covered, she can’t see him roll his eyes. “Can you read the letter as well, please?” Undergrads. Di immortales.

There’s a beat where Percy thinks he might actually explode, and then, her voice barely audible over the blood racing in his ears, he hears her read: “We are pleased to inform you that—”

“Wait.”

Pleased?

He stands. “I got in?”

“Uh—”

Perhaps a tad rudely, he yanks the computer out of her hands, bringing it up to his face. For once in his life, his dyslexia doesn’t act up, entirely cooperative as he reads for himself, in neat, tidy, Times New Roman: We are pleased to inform you that the ASUA has awarded you the Campbell Fellowship for Bronze Age Research for the upcoming academic year.

He gapes.

“Professor?” Sierra asks, shyly.

He’s in.

He’s in!

“I got it!” He shouts. Every head in the exam room shoots up, staring at him.

“You got it?” echoes Sierra.

Brandishing his computer, he can only gesture to the screen, excitement bubbling up in him like a Coke about to explode. “I got the fellowship!”

Fifteen pairs of eyes blink at him, uncomprehendingly.

“Uh, I’ll be right back.” Inelegantly, he plops his computer back down on the desk, snatching up his phone. “Give me—give me five minutes. Stay put.”

Bounding up the steps of the lecture hall, he already has the phone to his ear, dial tone ringing, and he barely makes it out of the room before his wife picks up.

“Percy?”

Now, Percy’s wife is a legitimate genius. She has known him almost her entire life, and in that time, she’s become a master at picking up the little nuances of his voice, the change in tone indicating the little undercurrents of emotion, no matter how hard he tries to hide it. She also knows that he knows that calling her in the middle of the workday is generally not helpful, as she’s usually in a meeting or deep in the zone, and taking her out of it is bound to mess up her flow for the rest of the day.

But of course, Annabeth is a genius. She knows him inside and out. And she knows he wouldn’t call if it weren’t extremely important.

“Annabeth—”

She doesn’t even let him finish. “You got in?”

He grins. “I got in!”

Over the phone, she gasps. “He got in!” Through the tinny connection, he hears her office cheering.

And in the empty hallway, he jumps for joy, punching his fist in the air.

***

Because his wife is brilliant, Percy doesn’t even realize that their walking date ends at the Greek Embassy until the three of them turn the corner. It’s just one of her many talents, making sure that Percy gets to his appointment on time.

Percy wouldn’t exactly call it the perfect weather for a walking date. Gray clouds blanket the sky, enveloping the tips of skyscrapers in mist, and through the alleyways, the wind howls, whipping at their jackets, sending Percy’s messy hair into further disarray. Even Annabeth, who has recently taken to keeping her curls in a short bob with a rotating collection of headbands so that they don’t get in my gods-damned eyes so I can see what I’m working on, isn’t faring much better. Still, he’s out with his wife and daughter, enjoying a leisurely walk down the streets of New York, and it’s hard to be in a bad mood with that kind of positive energy around. “Alright,” he announces, slowing to a stop outside the consulate. “Here we are.”

Automatically, Annabeth looks up, appraising the exterior, and Percy merely grins, awaiting her judgment.

She frowns. “That’s the embassy?”

Percy nods. “Uh huh.”

“But it’s so… nothing.”

He shrugs, readjusting his backpack, gripping the strap before it slides off his shoulder onto the wet pavement. In his other hand is his eldest daughter’s, squeezing it tight as she twirls around, her sneakers making little whirlpools beneath her feet. “That’s what I thought.”

Now, technically, it is a Tuesday, and Junie should have been in Pre-K, wowing all her teachers and outperforming all the other kids by a mile. But, well… turns out the genes run a little bit deeper than just looks. The teacher had not been exactly sure how Junie had managed to flood the classroom via the little sink in the corner, but it seemed pretty clear that she had. She hadn’t been expelled, exactly, but it had been suggested she seek education and enrichment somewhere else. Honestly, Percy and Annabeth were a little charmed by it. Apples and trees and all of that. But they did worry that it heralded things to come.

“I mean, there’s nothing,” Annabeth says again, craning her neck upwards. “No decoration, no sculpture… There’s nothing there!”

“Nothing but pilasters.”

She gags.

“At least the one in Boston is next to the bar from Cheers.”

She blinks at him, uncomprehending, and Percy makes a note to himself.

“So how long do you think this will take?” she asks.

“Dunno.”

“Because if it’s not that long we can just wait out here for you.”

He shakes his head, kissing her on the cheek. “Don’t waste the rest of your lunch break on me.” Besides, his back itches in the way that means it’s probably going to rain soon. “I’ll pick up Lucie from my mom’s place, and I’ll have dinner ready by the time you get home.”

Percy is long-since immune to the domesticity of such a statement. Or at least he thought he was, because the way Annabeth grins at him, leaning forward to capture his lips in a stronger kiss, makes him want to do a little jig with Junie, right here on the sidewalk.

His daughter certainly seems to agree, if the way she spins faster is any indication.

Annabeth slides her own bag off her shoulder, and pulls out a bulky file folder, handing it to him. “One last check?”

“Hit me.”

“Award letter?”

“Check,” he says, thumbing through the pages.

“Proof of insurance?”

“Check.”

“Background check?”

“With fingerprints, and without allegations of underage terrorism.” That had been a fun and nerve-wracking experience, getting his fingerprints taken. He had been sweating bullets for a week, expecting his brief career in monument-related arson to have the FBI kicking his door down.

“Visa application?”

“Plus immunization forms, birth certificate with apostille, and two hundred dollars cash.”

“Passport?”

He blinks. “I thought you had it.”

Annabeth snaps her gaze to him, eyes blazing. “Are you serious?”

“Kidding!” Reaching into the folder, he pulls out his shiny new passport, flapping it in the air. “Kidding.”

She swats at him. “Seaweed brain…”

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, kissing her again. “It’s all good, promise.”

“Don’t be an idiot in front of the ambassadors, or whoever it is you meet in there, okay? Save your dumbassery for something less high-stakes.”

Scoffing, he slips the passport back into the folder. “Excuse you, my dumbassery is only reserved for the lowest of low-stakes operations.”

“Just go and get your stupid visa.”

Percy crouches down. “See you soon, Honey Dew,” he says, kissing her forehead. “Go have fun with mommy!”

Junie’s only response is to kick water in his direction.

Yes, he stands and watches them leave, smothering a laugh, even as it begins to drizzle on him, until they turn the corner.

After checking in with the security guard at the door, he is directed to sit in the hallway, on a low, uncomfortable wooden bench. The floor is not marble, but it has the same kind of glossy shine to it, in a black and white checkered pattern that makes his eyes hurt. Tapping his foot, he casts his gaze around for something to focus on, and finds very little but blank walls, dim, yellow lights, and a fake marble statue in the corner of the winged, headless Nike (he knows that one on sight—Cabin 17 had made their own replica with an intact-head and placed it on their cabin roof after a series of Hermes-related pranks gone awry).

Directly across from him, mounted on the wall, is a large, nearly-square painting. From his vantage point on the bench, Percy can make out a brown landscape, a blue, cloudy sky, and… not much else. There are lines of white blobs, dots of red and green and blue, and it takes Percy an embarrassingly long time to realize that they are people. Okay, the blue blobs are cannons, and the white are soldiers, he presumes. The subject begins to take shape, clues falling into place before his eyes.

Percy is, after all, quite familiar with sieges.

He checks his watch. He made sure to arrive five minutes before his appointment, but it’s been fifteen minutes, and so far no one has come to collect him.

Returning his attention to the painting, for lack of anything else to do, he stands, leaving his folder on the bench, and walks over for a better look. He can see much more clearly this close, can much more easily make out the lines of attackers and defenders. The white-robed people, armed with curved swords, are defending some kind of castle on a hill, with walls and towers and… columns.

He frowns, tilting his head.

In the center, towards the top of the canvas, is undoubtedly a temple of some kind. He counts eleven columns, gleaming white, in a row, with a gaping hole in the middle, filled instead with a circular building with a terracotta roof. Beneath the temple, on the slope, are even more columns, and a wall unevenly dotted with arched openings.

There is something eerily familiar about the image that he just can’t quite place.

What the hell is it?

But he doesn’t have too much more time to dwell on it. “Mr. Jackson?”

An older woman with a shock of white hair strides towards him, her heels (her very tall heels, dang) clacking against the not-marble.

“Yes. Ms. Georgopoulou?”

She shakes his hand, firm despite her age. Her wrists have so many bangles, maybe it’s a covert kind of weight training. “Yes,” she nods. “Please, follow me.”

He takes a step to follow, before remembering that he left all his shit on the bench.

Swiping it from the bench, he turns, grinning sheepishly, only to see that she is already halfway down the hallway. Percy has to actually jog to catch up with her.

Several turns and one staircase later, Percy is in her office, seated on a leather chair that has seen better days, all but twiddling his thumbs while she painstakingly types in his application information. Which seems kind of a waste of time to him. On Paul’s recommendation, Percy had filled out his application on the computer, as he did not want to subject some poor admin worker to his terrible handwriting. If she’s just going to retype everything, why don’t they make the whole system digital?

Ms. Georgopoulou types slowly, precisely, her bracelets occasionally scraping against the ancient-looking keyboard. Every so often, she will gaze at him over the thick, brown rim of her glasses, appraisingly.

He stretches his mouth in a not-quite smile, feeling, once again, like a little kid who’s been sent to the principal’s office, waiting for the inevitable scolding or dressing down or disappointed sigh at his “antics.”

Squinting, she takes another look at his passport. “Ah!” Then she beams, years shedding from her face. “Perseus?”

He pauses. Only monsters call him by his first name.

Surreptitiously, he slips his hand into his pocket, fingering his pen, tensing his legs just in case he has to make a run for it. Wouldn’t be the first time an old lady turned into a demon, but boy does he wish it happened less often. It’s not even surprising at this point anymore. “Yes?”

But then, she does something maybe even scarier than spit venom at him.

She starts speaking at him in Greek.

He’s sure he looks like a dumbass, sitting there, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. “Um,” he starts. “Uh, I don’t—I don’t speak Greek.”

Which is true. He technically speaks ancient Greek because of magic genetic fuckery. But modern Greek? It’s about as foreign to him as Korean. Except he’s actually picked up some Korean just from the restaurant down the block from his mom’s first apartment. So really, it’s about as foreign to him as, like, Martian would be, or something.

Ms. Georgopoulou hmms at him, a wordless judgement, and goes back to her typing.

It feels like an eternity before she talks to him again. “You have somewhere to say?”

Percy nods, grateful for English. “I’ll be living in, uh, Piraeus.” Though he imagines he’ll mostly be living on his boat, or whatever island he ends up closest to for however long it takes to re-survey whatever part of the ocean he’ll be in.

More typing. She flips through Percy’s sheaf of papers, frowning. “Where is your proof of insurance?”

For a heartbeat, he panics.

Oh gods, did he forget the insurance?

He snatches them out of her hands, his own trembling as he thumbs through them. There’s no way he forgot the insurance. He and Annabeth double-checked, triple-checked—

“Here we go!” Percy brandishes the lucky paper, relief so intense it almost makes him dizzy. “Got my insurance right here.”

Thankfully for his nerves, the meeting wraps up fairly quickly after that. Percy hands over the cash for the visa fee (no card, no check, cash only, because of course), and is summarily shown the door, letting him know that he will be notified about the status of his visa application in no less than fifteen days.

More waiting. Joy.

Still, Ms. Georgopoulou is nice enough to lead him back out of the labyrinth of the consulate, rather than let him embarrass himself further by getting lost. Walking once again through the hallway with the painting and the checkered floor, he spies that same painting out of the corner of his vision, the one with the siege and the temple and all the little blobby figures—and it hits him, all at once.

“Oh!” he exclaims, stopping dead in his tracks. “It’s the Acropolis!” Because what else would it be?

Ms. Georgopoulou eyes him, oddly. “It is,” she agrees, with a tone that she probably uses on her grandkids. Her dumb grandkids. “See?”

She gestures to the label, and Percy has to squint to read the tiny letters.

The Siege of the Acropolis, reads the caption, once he manages to make the letters fall into place. Painting by Panagiotis Zografos, under the guidance of Yannis Makriyannis.

So he’s off to a great start.

***

Frederick Chase takes them all out for dinner the evening his visa arrives—by which he means all of them, including his mom, Paul, Estelle, and Junie and Lucie. They get a big corner booth in the back of a fancy, Japanese-Spanish fusion restaurant that one of Percy’s grad student colleagues had recommended, for which Percy is infinitely grateful, as Frederick had suggested a Greek restaurant at first, before Annabeth commented that Percy would soon be eating his weight in Greek food, and would probably prefer something else for the time being.

Some concern had been expressed about the littles one finding something to eat, but Estelle had taken to the chicken katsu with aplomb, and Junie had eaten enough of the tempura green beans that Percy wasn’t too sure there’d be room for dessert.

She sits in Percy’s lap now, painting water trails with her straw on the wood of the table, while his mom holds Lucie so Annabeth can run to the bathroom. Frederick, on his third glass of wine and more animated than Percy can ever remember seeing him, is regaling them all with stories from his own research trips, a handful of which had taken him to the Mediterranean.

“Let’s see,” he begins, counting off his fingers. “I’ve been to… Sardinia, Malta, Samos, Samothrace, Lemnos—oh, Lemnos!” The wine in his glass almost sloshes over the rim, and Paul has to move out of the way of his elbow. “Lemnos was wonderful. Such a lovely, remote island with all these incredible volcanic formations, and did you know that ANZAC used the island as a staging ground for the Gallipoli campaign?”

“Oh, really?” Asks his mom, genuinely interested.

“That’s what I was there for—I wanted to see whether the Axis had used the geography in the same, or set up their bases and commands in roughly the same places, as part of a broader investigation into how the Axis built off leftover infrastructure outside of Germany. In any case, I had a letter from the Ministry of Culture, I had all my permits, I even had the Deputy Ambassador notify the local Air Force base when I would be arriving.” He pauses to take a sip of wine. “All I needed was one historical map from the 1910s—just one—but the local commander would not let me look at it!”

Paul gasps, a little theatrical. The wine must be hitting him, too. “No!”

“Oh, yes. The man would not budge. Kept citing national security concerns. I told him, in not so many words mind you, but I told him that I had come all this way to see this darn map, and that the Greco-Turkish war had been over for almost a hundred years at that point, and not only was there no reason to keep the contents of the map classified, but satellite technology made the whole thing moot anyway, so what was the harm in letting me take a look?”

Chuckling, Percy spears the last of his potatoes, popping it into his mouth. He’s heard this story before, heard all about how Frederick managed to convince the stodgy Greek Air Force commander to let him study the map by promising him a citation in his article.

“So,” he goes on, “I am arguing with this man for what feels like hours, until finally he’s called away for something or other, and that’s when I realize.” Frederick leans in, a savage glint in his eye that Percy instantly recognizes as Annabeth’s war games face. “I don’t know what they were doing with it, I don’t know why it was there, but there, on his desk, was the map—and there, in the corner, was a copier.”

“Wait,” says Sally. Percy takes a drink of water. “Did you—”

“Make an illegal copy of a classified map from 1917 and smuggle it back to Virginia? Of course.”

Percy spittakes so hard it nearly comes out on his daughter’s head. Estelle thumps his back while he coughs, spots appearing in his eyes.

“Alright there, Percy?”

“Yeah,” he wheezes, “I just never heard that version before.”

Frederick blinks, cocking his head. He looks so much like his daughter it’s actually scary. “You haven’t?”

“You told me you managed to convince him by promising to put him in your article!”

“I did?”

“Yes!”

“Oh.” He flushes slightly, sheepishly dabbing at his mouth with a napkin. “Well, I, ah, must have given you the, um, undergrad version.” At Sally and Paul’s concerned look, he rushes to assure them, “Don’t worry, it was declassified the next year!”

Looking plenty worried, his mom shifts her concern from Frederick to Lucie, a grin creasing across her face. “Aw, sweetheart,” she coos, “looks like someone needs a change.”

Suppressing the last few coughs, Percy shifts Junie to Frederick, who is more than happy to take his granddaughter from him. “I got it,” he says, standing. “If the waiter comes back, make sure to order me some matcha brownies, yeah?”

Luckily, they’re already in the back, so it doesn’t take too long for Percy, kiddo and new diaper in hand, to make his way to the bathroom, and summarily run into Annabeth, who is just coming out of the women’s room, flicking her hands clean of water. “Oh!” She laughs, “fancy meeting you here.”

“Come here often?”

She grins, then shifts her attention away. Not that Percy is upset by that. “Hi sweetie,” she coos, wiggling her fingers. Lucie laughs, and Percy falls in love all over again. “Everything okay?”

“Just time for a diaper change.”

Annabeth steps aside, with a grand sweep of her arm. “Be my guest.”

The bathroom does not have stalls, and Percy breathes a sigh of relief. It’s not his fault that men’s rooms don’t generally have changing tables, and it’s nice not to get weird looks while taking care of his daughter. Or when Annabeth comes up behind him, and wraps her arms around him, hugging his torso, face buried in his shoulder blades. Like she is right now.

“I love you,” she mumbles into his back.

“I love you, too.” He cleans and changes Lucie with all the speed and grace of someone who’s done this a million times, and as he looks at his daughter’s face, feels the warmth of his wife pressed up against his back, the muffled noise of the restaurant and all of New York city in the distance, the sounds of the city as familiar as a lullaby, he is struck with an almost painful pang of longing. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

Annabeth tightens her arms around him. “It’s only for a few weeks. We’ll be there before you know it.”

“I can’t remember the last time we’ve been apart for so long.”

“Apart from being kidnapped by a rogue goddess?”

“Yeah, exactly. I can’t remember it.”

She snorts.

Picking up his clean kid, he bounces her in his arms, and is rewarded with a giggle. She’s just about old enough to transition out of diapers. She’s growing up so fast. “It just feels so real, now,” he says, quietly. “The visa, the plane ticket… I’m really going.”

“You are.” She comes around to his side, her hand never leaving his arm. “You’re going to go to Greece for twelve months, dazzle the crap out of the other archaeologists with your million shipwreck discoveries, and not have to deal with any grading or any undergrads the whole time. And we’ll be right there with you, the whole time.”

“Almost the whole time.”

“Almost,” she conceded.

“I just—I don’t want to waste this opportunity. I’m not…”

“What? Not smart enough?”

He shrugs.

In response, she rolls her eyes, then gently cuffs him upside the head. “Ow!”

“Percy,” she says, dead serious. “Do you know how many people apply for things like this?”

“I dunno… a few?”

“Try at least thirty per cycle. These are really prestigious grants. People apply from all over the world, in all stages of their careers. And you, seaweed brain,” she pokes him with her finger. “Beat out the competition.”

He feels the grin stretch across his face, slowly. “I did, didn’t I?”

“We did.” She kisses him. “Half of that proposal is mine.”

“The better half.”

“Of course.”

“Your name should be on this visa.”

“And it would be, if I could breathe underwater.”

“I can’t wait for you all to join me,” he says, eyes going misty.

Annabeth kisses him again. “We’ll be right behind you.”

They’re in the bathroom so long, dessert has already come and gone, but his mom manages to snag a matcha brownie for him before Paul gobbles them all up. Frederick leads them all in one last toast, to Percy’s great academic finds or whatever, but the true highlight of the night is when Annabeth nudges Junie, who, with a gasp of almost-forgetfulness, pulls out the little thing he’d seen her working at for the last few weeks, proudly presenting it to him.

“I made this for you, daddy,” Junie announces to the table. “I hope you like it!”

In her hands is a friendship bracelet, patterned with the Greek wave in blue and light green. Some of the waves are uneven, the crests a bit clunky, but in the center, Junie had woven an evil eye symbol in white.

“I love it,” he croaks. “Thank you so much.”

“Mommy helped with the mati, but I picked the colors.” She points at the band. “Blue is for the ocean. The green is for honey dew!”

He cannot stand it—he hugs his daughter, and doesn’t stop himself from crying.

***

Percy, who in the last seventy-two hours, has suffered air travel, jetlag, a mattress as soft as a concrete slab, the Athenian metro system, and one really, really steep hill, now faces his final challenge of the day. Swallowing his fear, he runs a hand through his sweaty hair, and steps up to the front desk of the library.

"Ah, signomi," he stammers, the word strange and unfamiliar in his mouth. The syllables are pretty close to ancient Greek, but the way they fit together is just… weird. "I have an appointment with, um, Aristides?"

The older lady at the front desk peers up at him over the rim of her glasses, her wrinkled hands resting on the pages of a yellowed book. With her red-dyed hair, large frames (are those Chanel?), enormous jewelry, and heavy eyeshadow, she reminds Percy of every school librarian he's ever had.

She leans in, hand to her ear, one eyebrow cocked. "Eh?"

"Aristides?" he repeats, a little louder. It echoes throughout the main hall of the library, and he does his best not to wince.

"Ah, Aristides!" She perks up, babbling at him in Greek. "Edaxi," she says, "one moment, please," before rising from her seat, and floating across the hall, where she disappears behind a large, wooden door.

Unsure if he should sit at one of the tables, Percy elects to stand, hands gripping the strap of his backpack, tapping his heel against the floor. An older patron in the corner of the room, his table piled high with books almost tall enough to wall him off from the world, glares at him.

It's a beautiful little library. The attached museum had been a beautiful little thing, too, and if it weren’t the middle of the night on the east coast, he would have called her up himself, and shown her around via video.

He channels her now as he looks around, observing. The outside had been all neoclassical, almost beating you over the head with it, with perfect, fluted ionic columns, tapering gently at the top. Inside, beautiful, grand, wooden bookshelves surround the room, their contents locked behind glass. Some of them he can read instantly, of course—the library has a hefty collection of ancient Greek literature after all—but the rest swims in front of his eyes, scratchy gold lettering blurring together with blue and red leather. Wandering over to something that won't make his head hurt, he stops in front of a glass display of a book, open to a delicately printed page of text.

It’s in Greek—ancient Greek, thank the gods—and to his delight, it’s the first few lines of the Iliad. Instantly, his shoulders unwind, and he relaxes enough to lean down and take a closer look, quietly mouthing the familiar words to himself. Percy doesn’t even bother with the label, instead tracing his eyes over the floral linework in the header illustration. He sees ram heads, fish, and pumpkins in the little cornucopia, and some kind of gorgon mask in the big, illuminated “Mu” that begins the poem. His master’s thesis had been a new translation of the Aeneid, but during that process he had come to appreciate the art of old, fancy editions of epic poems. It was kind of cool to see a physical, non-magical link to his past. He might be living proof of the Olympian gods, but plenty of mortals had dedicated their lives to carrying that legacy forward on faith and passion alone. And now Percy will carry it forward, too, without using his sword this time. It’s pretty cool, if you think about it.

A quiet voice behind him breaks the spell. "Mr. Jackson?"

Percy turns, and is greeted by a well-dressed man, probably in his early 40s. He looks as Greek as Greek can be, with a great beak of a nose and thick, wavy, salt and pepper hair. “Percy,” he insists, reaching out to shake his hand. “Thanks so much for meeting with me, Mr. Yiannopoulos.”

“Please,” he returns, in a perfect American accent. “Call me Ari. Come on, let’s talk in my office.”

His office is huge, definitely bigger than Percy’s apartment back home, and covered wall-to-wall with books, in so many languages that it makes his head spin. As Percy closes the door behind them, Ari sheds his suit jacket, tossing it over a spare chair squashed between two teetering piles of books. He gets the sense that this guy and Frederick would get along famously.

“You get settled in alright, Praetor? No problems with the apartment?”

Percy sets down his backpack on the 70s-era linoleum floor. The things he’s picked up from Annabeth still astound him. “Yeah, it’s fine. But getting here was a journey, let me tell you.”

“I’d bet,” says Ari, evenly.

“That hill is killer.”

“They’re building a new metro station in the neighborhood, but it won’t open for another few years probably.”

“How do you stand it?”

Ari shrugs, sitting down behind his desk. “Practice, mostly. But I live on campus here.”

“Heh, must be nice.” Percy sits in the chair opposite him, zipping open his backpack and rummaging around for his documents folder… until something occurs to him, and he suddenly shoots his head up. “Did you just call me ‘Praetor’?”

“Took you long enough.”

He blinks. “You’re a Roman?”

“Yep.” Ari rolls up his sleeve, revealing the familiar, stark harp symbol, with twelve lines beneath it, signifying twelve years of service. “Third generation legacy.”

Something in his brain might be broken. Or maybe it's jetlag. “You’re a Roman… but you work for the Greek government?”

Ari raises his brow right back. “And you’re a Greek, but you teach Latin.”

That does not at all clear anything up for him. “Did you know who I was when I applied?”

He shakes his head. “I only learned you were coming after the review committee circulated the applicants. I saw your name, and I had to basically beg my supervisor to let me be your liaison.”

“Okay… Why?”

“I’m glad you asked.” Percy doesn’t think he looks particularly glad. “Because, Praetor, you,” Ari glares at him, as sharp and pointed as the finger he’s thrusting into Percy’s face, “have a bad habit of attracting attention.”

Percy frowns. “Wait… Is this about the Gateway Arch? That was, like, fifteen years ago—”

“The Arch, Mount St Helens, the sinkhole in Rome,” he counts off his fingers. “Do you even know how much paperwork I had to do when you and your friends collapsed the Necromanteion in Epirus? Oh, and then you all decided that the best course of action would be to march on Athens and stage a battle on the Acropolis!” Ari slams his hand down on his wooden desk. “The Acropolis is one of the most popular tourist destinations in the entire world! We had to close the site for days! My bosses were about to have me crucified!”

Percy would scoff, but Ari is a Roman. He knows exactly what he’s talking about vis-a-vis crucifixion. “Well,” Percy counters, “my bosses were going to have me—and also you—obliterated if I hadn’t gone there.”

Ari glares again, a wolf stare so perfectly intimidating it could only have been taught by Lupa. It probably works on the skittish undergrads and beleaguered government employees he has to deal with on a daily basis. But Percy has also trained at Lupa’s knee. He’s faced the Titan king and the goddess of Earth. He has stared down Athena while hiding underneath a pastry cart—and has seen the exact same look on his two year old when she doesn’t want to be put down for a nap.

Sensing, perhaps, that he is outmatched, Ari blinks first. “Fine,” he grinds out, “but I’m giving you an assistant.”

“What? I don’t need—”

“Oh, yes you do. A grant this big comes with serious scrutiny, which will fall on my shoulders if you decide to trash another priceless heritage site.” He turns to his computer, quickly typing something out. “I’m sending you his resume right now. You are not to leave him behind or waste his time with useless data entry.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry, he knows his way around a boat.”

Percy gapes, his whole day suddenly upended. In all his time preparing for the fellowship, he had not expected that he’d have a permanent hanger-on. Especially one he knows nothing about! “You can’t just saddle me with some mortal assistant and call it a day!”

Ari levels him with another look. “Don’t be stupid—I’m sending you a legionnaire.”

“A kid?”

“Yep.” Ari finishes typing with a final clack that brokers no argument, before swivelling back to face him. “You can pick him up from the port when you head out Thursday morning. He’ll be waiting for you at Terminal B.” From a desk drawer, he pulls out a folder, sliding it across to Percy. “I’ve booked you two tickets for an overnight ferry to Crete. You’ll have one day to settle in Heraklion before you start your first survey. Any questions?”

Flabbergasted beyond speech, Percy can only take the folder.

“Great.” He stands up, and goes over to open the door to his office. “I’ll be checking in with you next week. Have a safe trip, Praetor.”

***

“How’s the kid?” Annabeth asks.

Percy groans, dropping his head back.

Over the Iris Message, Annabeth snorts. “That bad?”

“No,” Percy admits. “He’s actually been really helpful.”

“Then what is it?”

In truth, there isn’t a lot to complain about Arthur Taylor. A son of the Roman god Portunes, Arthur had spent the better part of his childhood sailing around the world with his mortal dad, before they settled in San Francisco when he was fourteen. After two years in New Rome High School, he had tested out of most of the classes, and was given permission by the Senate to take his senior year off for a long term Legion assignment—which, apparently, just so happened to be babysitting Percy.

Still, he’s a good kid. He’s an excellent sailor, knows how to operate the very expensive diving equipment that Percy had to rent for appearances’ sake, and, to be quite honest, keeps Percy from going insane by giving him someone to talk to.

There is just one slight problem.

“He keeps calling me ‘Mr. Jackson’!”

Annabeth, the heartless woman that she is, just laughs at him.

“I’m serious!” He whines. “It’s weird!”

“You know that I’m Mrs. Jackson, right?” She flashes the ring at him for good measure, like he’d ever forget one of the best days of his life. “What’s so bad about that?”

“It makes me feel so old.”

“I’m older than you.”

“And you’re aging beautifully.”

“Ha ha,” she deadpans. Then she yawns.

Percy frowns. “It’s not that late over there.” It’s only 8 AM here, and Annabeth seriously lives up to the night owl stereotype.

“No, but I haven’t really been sleeping well for a few days,” she admits. “Taking care of all three of us is hard work.”

A pang goes through him, cutting through the gentle morning sun filtering through the window. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Sally’s pitched in a few times, and my dad has started sending me those fancy microwave meals.” She shrugs a shoulder, her t-shirt sliding down and showing some skin. Percy tries not to stare like a teenager. “We’ve been getting by just fine.”

“I know.” And he does. Annabeth wouldn’t let a little something like her inability to cook stop her from being the best mom ever. “I just miss you guys so much.”

Smiling softly, she leans forward, and he copies the movement. “We’ll be there next week,” she reminds him, “which means we’ll see you in just three weeks.”

“What if I just cut my survey short and met you in Athens?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time. Besides, yesterday you told me you were onto something?”

Was it only yesterday? Gods, Percy’s sense of time is shredded out here. They’ve only been surveying for a little over two weeks, but it simultaneously feels like forever and no time at all. The only way Percy can really mark the passage of time is by his twice daily IMs back home. “Maybe,” he hedges. “I talked to some sharks the other day, and they said I should try and find this nymph who’s lived in this part of the bay since the twelfth century.”

“Any luck yet?”

“Not yet, but they said she liked to scare the tourists sailing back and forth from Chrysi.”

“Is that daddy?” Junie waddles into view, rubbing her eyes with her fists.

“Baby, you’re up so late!” Annabeth hoists their oldest into her lap, so she can get a better view. “What’s the matter?”

“Hafta go potty,” she mumbles. “Heard talking. Hi, daddy.”

“Hi, Honey Dew,” he says, almost tearing up. He misses his family so fucking much. “Are you being good for mommy?”

She nods, her eyes still droopy. “Miss you.”

“I miss you, too, kiddo. But I’ll get to see you in just a few weeks! And then we’ll have our big boat adventure!”

Smiling, she snuggles into Annabeth, burying her face in her t-shirt. “Adventure,” she repeats, dreamily.

“Come on, let’s go potty so you can go back to bed.” Annabeth took their daughter’s hand, waving at Percy from thousands of miles away. “Bye, daddy! Have fun on your survey!”

“Good night, baby!”

“Night night,” his daughter says, clumsily flopping her arm.

“Night, Percy,” says Annabeth. “Talk to you in the morning.”

“Sleep well.”

Annabeth blows him a kiss through the IM, and he catches it, rubbing it on his cheek, before swiping a hand through the image of her sticking her tongue out at him.

Good timing—from above, he hears Arthur ring the horn to signal they’ve arrived. Percy emerges from below onto the deck, shading his eyes against the bright morning sun. “Morning, Captain!” Arthur calls from the wheel. “We’re coming up on site 23B.”

“Excellent.” That’s the other great thing about Arthur. Aside from all of his other skills, he is also a whiz at deciphering their legacy data. “How’s the weather looking?”

“Another perfect day.”

They are currently cruising off the southern coast of Crete, cruising easily over the most perfect, bluest ocean Percy has ever seen in his life, beneath a bright, clear sky. It’s hard for the weather to not be perfect here.

“Alright,” Percy says, “if that’s the case, do you think you can head back to Ierapetra and pick up some more supplies?” Their little galley kitchen may be powerful, but it’s still pretty small, and they need to restock every few days.

“Sure thing,” says Arthur. “Any requests?”

“Just clear out their entire stock of peach juice for me.” It may not be blue, but it is delicious.

Arthur opens his mouth, as if to say something else, but then closes it, ducking his head, embarrassed.

“What is it?”

“Um,” Arthur hedges, hands gripping the wheel, “would it be okay if I took some time to go check something out in town?”

Percy frowns. “Sure. Is everything okay?” They haven’t been accosted by monsters yet, but he figures it’s only a matter of time. “Do you need backup?”

“What? Oh,” Arthur flushes. “No, nothing like that. I just wanted to sight-see a bit.”

“Sight-see?”

He nods. “There’s this house—supposedly, in 1798, Napoleon docked in town, incognito, for a single night, before he headed on to Egypt for the Mediterranean campaign.”

The kid’s been all over the world, has docked in every continent except Antarctica, but he’s practically bouncing to go check out some random house that maybe has a connection to the Napoleonic wars. Grinning, Percy makes a note to introduce Arthur to Dr. Chase at some point. “Sure,” he says. “Have fun.”

Arthur beams. “Thank you, Mr. Jackson!” And he looks so excited, Percy can’t even bring himself to be annoyed with the whole “Mr. Jackson” thing.

And if Percy decides to give the boat a little push after he dives in so that Arthur can get to shore faster… Well, there are multiple benefits to this decision. Arthur gets to shore faster, and Percy gets to have some time to himself.

Hey, just because having the kid around keeps him from going crazy doesn’t mean he doesn’t need some Percy-time.

Percy lets himself sink further down, enveloped by the warm, crystal clear blue water. Eyes closed, he tilts his head up towards the surface, breathing out a stream of bubbles, his t-shirt gently wafting in the calm undercurrents. A school of something swims past him, tickling his arms and face like a soft breeze.

Yeah. This is the life.

For a few solid hours, he just lets himself be moved around by the will of the ocean. He moves in something approaching a circle, simply drifting around the island of Chrysi. Dappled sunlight drapes like lace over the rocky seafloor and patches of seagrass, while parades of colorful fish stop in their tracks to look for a second at the weird obstacle in their migration path, before continuing on around him. Eventually, the current takes him by the waist and draws him further from shore, into the deepening dark of the sea. Beneath him, he can sense the slowly sharpening descent of the ocean floor, stretching further and further, past the hunting grounds of squids and octopus until, he knows, some hundreds of meters further south, the ground suddenly gives way to a steep, sudden cliff. And what lies beyond, no one knows.

Which is crazy to Percy. He’s seen the surveys, read the topographical maps, and even asked his dad, but despite the seventy or so years of dedicated surveying and the literal thousands of years of nautical travel and trade, there are still, somehow, unknowns in the Mediterranean. There are creatures down here even his father doesn’t know. There is magic here older than the gods themselves.

And there is also a nereid staring at Percy from behind a tall rock.

He yelps, tripping on himself. Yes, tripping underwater. It happens, and it’s just as silly as tripping on land. “Ahem. Hello?”

The nereid pokes her head out further. She’s pretty in the way that all nereids are pretty, by virtue of being an immortal in a pantheon full of pretty people, but there’s something distinctly different about her. Her skin is pale, her hair somehow sticking to her face, like she had just emerged from underwater… despite still being underwater.

Percy chances a swim closer. She doesn’t immediately run away, but she still seems pretty shaken up by the appearance of a sudden stranger. “Hey. Uh, I’m Percy. What’s your name?”

Her eyes widen, and she squeaks, blushing blue to the roots of her glossy, black hair. “My lord!” She bows, nearly tumbling into a full front flip, her long, skinny tail flipping against the rock with a thump so loud, Percy can feel the vibrations.

Oh good. She knows who he is. “Hi.”

“Hello! Good morning! Um, afternoon? My lord!”

The water ripples out from around her, shaking so hard she’s starting to cause her own localized whirlpool. “Percy is fine. Please.”

The nereid nods, sharply. “Lord Percy!”

Well, that’s about as far as he’s going to get.

She stares at him, starry-eyed, but still nervous. Also, she doesn’t look like she’s about to make off with him and drag him to her undersea lair, so that’s a plus. “So… what’s your name?”

“Eunice, Lord Percy!”

“Great—wait. Eunice?”

“Yes!”

Eunice. Huh. Well, he’s heard weirder. “Eunice. You live around here?”

She nods, her hair whipping in the current.

“I’m looking for—”

“For shipwrecks! Yes! Your father told us!”

“Right.” Oh he’s well aware. He’s had random nereids accosting him all summer to tell him about the incredibly fascinating sunken lobster fishing boats off the coast of Maine they had found, and how about they go check them out together, just the two of them? “Well, actually, I was talking to Kostas the other day—”

“The squid?”

“The shark.”

She nods. “I know him well! We are good friends!”

That had not been Kostas’ version of events. “He said you might know something about a bronze age wreck around here?” Specificity is important, he’s learned. There are so many shipwrecks around Crete, mostly from the last forty years, and specificity means he’s not wasting time chasing Cold War-era fishing vessels.

In lieu of an answer, instead she turns and bolts into the deep, almost smacking Percy in the face with her tail.

He stares after her.

Then, just as quickly as she left, she swims back, beckoning with one webbed hand. “Please, Lord Percy! Follow me!” And then she shoots off once more.

O… kay.

With only some trepidation, he swims after her.

She’s fast, and the further they go, the more she blends into the environment, but the sea puts his senses into overdrive. He can easily follow her bubble trail, weaving in and out of spiky rock formations, inching ever closer to—where else—the edge of that underwater cliff. Because of course. “Hey, Eunice,” he calls out. “Where are we going?”

“We seek the edge of the Minoan Crown, my lord!” She sends back. Which means absolutely nothing to him.

But it’s not like he can get lost, so, onwards and upwards. Or downwards, as the case may be.

The water grows colder, blacker, heavier. Pressure curls around his ankles and wrists like weights, but Eunice is not stopping, so Percy swims through the water as thick and heavy as molasses. He can still breathe down here, but something about the water is just… different. Awkward. Like it almost doesn’t fit in his lungs. More disconcertingly, he feels like he can barely see, the darkness is so impenetrable.

“Nearly there!” Eunice calls cheerfully. Percy wipes his brow, suddenly sweaty.

“Nearly there” turns out to be something of an overestimation, but eventually, she makes a right turn, and comes to a hard stop, Percy nearly barreling into her.

“Here, prince,” she says, approaching a dark shape in the dark(er) water. “Look.”

This deep, in this thick, complete darkness, he’s essentially blind. Still, he can sense that they are in an underwater cave, some five thousand or so meters beneath the surface. He has an impression of spiky stalagmites and packed sand. Cautious, he swims closer. His eyes essentially useless, he closes them, reaching out with his feelings instead.

The water here is still, unnaturally so. There is no life, no movement, aside from the gentle wave of Eunice’s hair. A cold hand brushes against his arm, and his eyes snap open as he jerks away in shock—not at the touch, but at the fact that he can suddenly see.

Eunice is softly glowing. Her skin, already so pale, is translucent, enough that he can see her bones, but now he can also see the bioluminescent spines protruding from her forearms, casting the cave in an eerie, almost ultraviolet light. “Be at ease,” she says, her voice lower, suddenly confident. “I shall be your light.”

It’s not great. He’d rather have a flashlight. But it’s more than enough to see the smooth, wooden curve of the keel which rises up out of the packed sand of the cave floor, about six inches from his face. He places a hand on a plank, running his palm over the whorls and grain of a piece of wood which had somehow, miraculously, survived all this time.

“Whoa,” he breathes, a stream of bubbles escaping his mouth. How has the wood not completely disintegrated by now?

“You must take care, my lord.” Eunice waves a hand, redirecting the current. “This cave has never known the anemoi, and a hero’s breath is a dangerous thing.”

He frowns, and then it clicks. “This cave is anoxic,” he says. “There’s no oxygen down here.” And no oxygen means no wood-eating organisms. No wonder the keel is so intact.

She tilts her head at the unfamiliar word, frowning delicately, a personality change equal parts eerie and sudden.

“Nevermind.”

With his portable nereid spotlight in tow, he swims around the exposed body of the ship, his astonishment growing with every look. Not only is the keel intact, but so is the deck, as is the single exposed mast, rising up into the black water, a thick length of rope—rope!—attached to the top. Turning and swimming down, he examines the spot where the ship emerges from its sediment casing. If the wood and the rope had survived this long, what else might there be? A sail? Some paint? What if the ship’s cargo survived, too?

“Eunice,” he says, remembering to pull his face away. “How long has this thing been down here?”

She shrugs. “I cannot say for certain, for I had not yet come into being when this vessel came to rest in this cave, its passengers long since drowned.”

The question is out of his mouth before he has time to register that it might be a little bit rude. “How old are you?”

But she doesn’t seem to mind. Eunice smiles, her mouth full of long, sharp teeth, glinting in the light of her spines, and Percy shivers. He vastly prefers the awkward, nervous Eunice from earlier. “I am old enough to have guided the Argo safely through the clashing rocks, to have been challenged by Cassiopeia, and to have mourned the swift-footed son of Thetis, pouring honey and ambrosia over the silver casket of the greatest of warriors.”

So, about as old as the Trojan War, then.

Which means this ship is even older.

He places his hand on the wood, and closes his eyes again, focusing, a trick he’s picked up from Leo.

Machines have stories, and so do ships. How they’re made, how they work, how they’re broken. Percy just has to be willing to listen.

“It’s not a cargo ship,” he says, mostly to himself. “It was a warship.” He can hear it, the furious beat of drums, the rhythmic grunt of oarsmen, the sharpening of blades and the readying of bows. The wood, hewn from a cedar tree, is warm beneath his touch, even here in the freezing cold dark. “And it was sailing north.”

“North?”

“It was… running away from something.” Limping away from battle. The captain had cut his losses, and had ordered his men to retreat. “There was a storm.” No doubt his father and uncle had been fighting again, this sad little warship caught in the middle of an explosive family dispute they had no part in. Percy hears the crashing of thunder, the howling wind, the mighty crack of a mast as it splits apart. “And then it sank.”

An all-too common occurrence. But where did it come from?

Percy frowns, stretching his senses further.

He sees round shields and horned helmets, and people exhausted by constant war. There is the spicy, floral red lotus, and the earthy, woody papyrus. A mighty river floods in an endless cycle, giving life in a barren desert. And in him is a spirit that covets this bounty, a feeling of envy so hot and sudden, it almost knocks Percy off his feet.

He has to—he has to write all this down. If this is what he thinks this is, then this could be the find of a generation. Maybe several generations. Frantically patting his pockets, he pulls out Riptide, converting it to normal pen mode, before he stops, and smacks his forehead, groaning.

Di immortales, he left his notebook with Arthur on the ship!

***

“Absolutely not!”

“Ari—”

“No!”

“Ari, this could be huge.”

“You’re talking about causing an earthquake!”

“A small one!”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“How else am I supposed to get it out of the cave?”

“Arthur, tell me you think this is a bad idea.”

“Um…”

“Iuppiter dique te omnes perdant, Percy, you’ve gone and corrupted him.”

“Look, it’s not Minoan or Mycenaean, it’s not Egyptian—it’s unlike any other ship I’ve ever seen before. The cave is anoxic, so the wood is so well-preserved, and Eunice says that it’s been there since before she was, so we’re talking 12th century, at minimum.”

“CE?”

“BCE.”

“...And it’s not Mycenaean?”

“Mr. Jackson thinks it could belong to the Sea Peoples!”

“Arthur—!”

“Sorry!”

“...The Sea Peoples. Really?”

“I mean… yeah. I think so.”

“...Let me make some calls.”

***

Calls are made. And Percy waits.

Luckily, he has a really, really nice way to pass the time.

Annabeth, naked as the day she was born, lounges on the cabin bed, stretching her arms over her head, before she flops over onto her back, limp and boneless. Percy, drinks in hand and equally naked, has to force himself to set the bottle down on the little table, rather than drop the damn thing and jump her all over again. “Water or wine?” he asks, shamelessly leering.

She shamelessly leers back. “Water, then wine,” she responds, already reaching for a glass. “I need to rehydrate.”

Originally, the plan had been for Percy to go back to Athens to meet his family after they arrived. However, given the potentially paradigm-changing archaeological treasure stuck in the Hellenic Trench, Ari and Percy had both decided it would probably be best for Percy to stay put, and have his family come to him, rather than the other way around. Which is fine by him. They can explore Athens as a family any time, but the perfect weather off the coast of Crete will only last for so long.

The tourists have begun to dissipate as the summer season gives way to a warm fall, so Percy, Annabeth, and the girls have the beaches and seas more or less to the locals and themselves. Junie is utterly enchanted by the Flying Dolphin, and has decided that her new favorite game is hiding in the various nooks and crannies aboard ship, then popping out to surprise him, giving her daddy a heart attack in the process. Lucie takes a little more time to adjust, laid low by a minor ear infection, made worse by the rocking of the boat. The only way to calm her, they quickly learn, is for Percy to hold her while they go for a dive, suspended in a little air bubble, her little eyes wide as she takes it all in.

Percy, Annabeth, and their family spend their days diving, fishing, making friends with the elderly women who come out every morning at sunrise for their daily swim, relaxing on the beach, and eating their way through the multiple gelato shops which line the promenade. Aside from a few hiccups, having this time with his family has been an absolute, perfect paradise.

Percy is pretty sure he and Annabeth are guaranteed a spot in Elysium. Whenever they end up there, he hopes it’s exactly like this.

Especially this part.

After about a week and a half, Frederick, sensing that Percy and Annabeth were in desperate need of a little alone time, had graciously volunteered to take Arthur and the girls inland on a tour of Minoan ruins. Percy had essentially been put on shore leave while Ari did his bureaucratic, six degrees of New Rome separation thing to make sure Percy’s plan isn’t completely idiotic, and maybe even viable, and Frederick was already chomping at the bit to see some old rocks which had once been palaces, so it didn’t take much effort to convince Arthur to go along with them.

So, with the kids away and work on hold for the time being, Percy and Annabeth are engaging in some truly excellent sex.

Like, a whole lot of it.

Dehydration is a very real possibility for both of them.

“Tell me you have more of that cheese,” she says, after downing a glass and a half of water.

“We finished off the graviera this morning. I’ll tell Arthur to pick up some more on his way back.”

She pouts. “You mean to tell me that I’ll be cheeseless for two more days?”

“Unless you want to get dressed and go get some yourself.”

“Honestly, I’m considering it.” She lifts one leg, grasping her knee and pulling it closer, stretching out a cramp—and giving Percy one hell of a view. “I’m going to need some snacks if you’re going to keep making me come like that.”

He grins. It had been explosive. “Hit your limit already?”

“Not even close.” Percy settles onto the bed next to her, wine glass in hand, and she lifts herself to kiss him, slipping the glass out of his grasp. “But seriously, we should probably eat. I think we were fucking all through lunch.”

“You hungry?”

“Give me like half an hour. You’re not?”

Percy frowns. He… really isn’t. “I’m fine.”

Annabeth hums, thoughtful. “How much do you eat out here?”

“The normal amount, I think.” Usually, he’ll have some yogurt and granola for breakfast, some cheese and salted fish for lunch, and whatever fresh fruit and cheese they had on hand for dinner. There’s an abundance of fresh fish, too, and catching some for a quick grill is comically easy out here. Arthur is largely in charge of grocery shopping, and he certainly doesn’t complain about the food, but he also seemingly has an endless supply of oregano flavored chips. Hopefully Percy isn’t accidentally starving him.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“You.” With her free hand, she trails a finger up his chest, her nail ghosting over browned skin and white scar tissue, leaving a pleasantly tingly feeling in its wake. “Ocean life seems to agree with you.”

“It certainly beats grading.”

“Mmhmm.” Her fingers move further north, from his shoulder to his neck to the back of his head. “Your hair is getting long.”

On reflex, he runs a hand through it, pushing it back from his face. “I can cut it.”

“Don’t.” She tangles her fingers in it, tugging, and smirks at his quiet gasp. “I like it.”

Thoughts of lunch are pushed to the wayside in favor of… other pursuits.

It’s only much later, as the rim of the sun just barely kisses the horizon, that Annabeth puts her foot down. “We have to eat something.”

“I can just catch us some fish,” he protests.

But Annabeth shakes her head, pulling on her underwear. “I haven’t been on solid ground for forty-eight hours. I want to walk around the old town, eat my weight in stuffed peppers, and then get another twelve of those giant sfakianopita, so that the next time we have a two day sex binge, I’ll have something more substantial to snack on instead of just cheese and nuts.”

“You can snack on my nuts,” he mutters, and is rewarded by Annabeth throwing his shirt at his head.

Still, solid ground is a solid idea. As much as he enjoys living aboard the Flying Dolphin, she is one small ship. Ierapetra isn’t exactly the big city, but compared to his cramped quarters, it might as well be as bustling as Manhattan. To his chagrin, Percy hasn’t actually spent much time in town, rarely venturing further inland than the corner shop on the boardwalk.

Annabeth laughs as he points it out. “Only you, seaweed brain.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your first instinct is to go for the bodega.” She laughs again, bright and bubbly, her curls bouncing in the evening breeze. “Guess you really can’t take the city out of the boy.”

Hand in hand, they wander the streets, Annabeth pointing out every architectural feature that tickles her fancy. She had used the flight to blast through an audiobook about Ottoman architecture, and she takes great delight in putting her newfound knowledge to the test. Almost as much delight as Percy takes in listening to her.

“So why is this one square?” he asks, as they are admiring the remains of a mosque with its tower broken off. “I thought mosques were supposed to be rounder.”

“It depends. Lots of mosques have unique layouts because of geographical limitations. This one is interesting, though. Look at the walls—see how they’re sticking out?”

Percy nods.

“And the tiled roof. This mosque is missing the qubba.”

“The what?”

“The dome.” She needs both hands to explain, and Percy tries not to pout at the loss. “Representing the vault of heaven. It’s not a requirement, but it’s still unusual for a mosque not to have at least one dome.”

“You know,” he says, “I have noticed that all the churches here have domes.”

Annabeth smiles, proudly. “They’re definitely related. Most dome architecture can be traced back to the 6th century, and the construction of the Hagia Sophia.”

“There weren’t domes before?”

“There definitely were,” she says. “Remember the Pantheon in Rome?”

“I was a little busy fighting some nymphs that day.”

“It’s basically a giant circle imposed on top of a big square. It’s the world’s biggest dome made of unreinforced concrete. But that means it’s also very heavy, and it needs a lot of internal support, which shrinks the available internal space. The Hagia Sophia, on the other hand, is so amazing because the architects basically invented an entirely new way to construct and support the dome. Instead of putting a sphere on a cube, the Hagia Sophia has pendentives in the corners to help bear the weight of the dome. They also reduced the weight of the dome by cutting windows into the bottom, which lets in a ton of natural light, and supposedly it makes it look like the dome is floating.” She sighs, happily. “I’d love to see it one day.”

Percy is already mentally composing his vacation request. “I’m sure I can get Ari to get us some time off after we officially discover the paradigm-shifting archaeological marvel.”

Annabeth takes his hand again, almost glowing. “I’d really like that.”

With renewed energy, they finish their ramble, settling down at the first restaurant they see once they emerge from the maze of streets back onto the beach. True to her wishes, Annabeth manages to eat her weight in stuffed peppers, while Percy devours almost an entire grilled octopus, using his fries to mop up every last morsel. They share a couple bottles of wine, and endless plates of fried cheese, as the sky turns from purple to blue, the twinkling lights of the cruise ships off the port like stars.

Percy has his arm around her waist as they walk back to the boat. He’s a little tipsy, and Annabeth is very sturdy. Still, he manages not to trip as they slow their roll, coming to a halt in front of the very annoyed looking young woman who waits for them at the dock, tapping her foot next to a giant package.

She doesn’t look like a local. Percy’s spent enough time with the frequent fishers that he can easily pick them out of a lineup. But she does look mad. “Um… can we help you?”

The woman sighs, tossing the sweaty strands of brown hair which have escaped her tight ponytail. “Percy Jackson?”

“Who wants to know?” Annabeth adjusts his grip on her waist, giving her more room to draw her knife.

“I need your signature for a delivery.”

Percy is pretty sure he would remember making an order big and important enough to need a signature. “Sure…?”

She hands him a clipboard and a pen. Then she stares at him when he does nothing. “Are you going to sign?”

“Sorry,” he says, “I’m a little confused.” Annabeth snorts. “Who is this from again?”

“Mr. Yiannopoulos commissioned the equipment from New Rome on your behalf.”

Oh. Now that he looks, he actually does see the Senate insignia on the top of the delivery form.

“What is it?”

The woman eyes Annabeth suspiciously. “And you are?”

“Annabeth Jackson.”

“Hero and Architect of Olympus,” Percy adds.

Turns out, that was the trick. The woman’s jaw drops open, her eyes widening. “You’re—you’re Annabeth Chase?” she gasps.

“That’s me.”

Percy chuckles, clumsily signing the form. The novelty of Annabeth having fans has long since worn off, but not the delight of seeing other people recognize her brilliance.

After an autograph and a selfie for Drusilla, who apologizes profusely for her attitude, Praetor, she had just been told to wait by the Flying Dolphin for an unknown amount of time, and you know how the Senate doesn’t always give all the pertinent details, Annabeth is giving her directions to their favorite gelato spot while Percy crouches by the package. “So, what is it?”

“I don’t know,” says Drusilla, still starry-eyed. “I only picked it up in Miami.”

Percy frowns. “Is that a card?”

Sure enough, there’s a Hallmark greeting card taped to a corner, nearly hidden beneath all the customs stickers. Tongue between his teeth, he gently pries it off, cleanly slicing it open with Drusilla’s pen. On the cover is a drawing of a dragon, lighting birthday candles with his breath.

“Who’s it from?”

“To Percy,” he reads the chicken scrawl inside. “Got a special request from NRU engineering to help make you a little present. As payment, I expect ten percent of every underwater treasure chest you find. (Babies are expensive!) Love, Leo.”

“What does it mean?”

“Who’s Leo?” Drusilla wonders.

Percy stands, grinning. “It means that Plan Earthquake is a-go.”

***

Plan Earthquake is pretty much exactly what it sounds like it would be.

The Aegean Sea plate is surprisingly active for how small it is, and seismic activity is pretty common in this part of the world. If, say, for instance, there were to be a minor earthquake originating from the Hellenic subduction zone, maybe it could potentially dislodge any archaeological detritus from where it was trapped in an anoxic cave almost six thousand meters below sea level, sending it floating closer to the surface, where it could then subsequently be discovered by some passing ship surveying the area for wrecks.

You know, possibly.

But first they need to get it out of the rock.

Unfortunately, Leo’s magic winch did not come with jackhammers, so Percy is warming up for the big act by gently shaking the packed sand apart. Eunice is helping, too, redirecting the currents to help clear away the loose chunks of rock. Annabeth is on standby on the surface, monitoring the seismological chatter, while Arthur mans the ship, and keeps an eye out for sea monsters.

“How you doing, hon?” Annabeth says into his bluetooth earbuds.

Percy shakes out his hands, jumping up and down. “Fine,” he confirms. “Think we’re almost ready to fire up the winch. How’s it looking up there?”

“All clear,” she confirms, after a beat. “Arthur says we’re alone out here. No ships, no uninvited guests.”

They should be. There’s no reason for tourist ships to come this far south of the coast, nor for shipping out of Cairo to come this far north. Also, the monsters have been leaving them alone for the most part. Hopefully they’ll stay away, instead of dropping in in the middle of Plan Earthquake and making things interesting. Percy breathes in, stretching out his arms. “Alright. Give me another hour.”

It’s long, grueling work, but bit by bit, they uncover the wreck, freeing inch after inch of preserved wood. To his delight, he finds that he was right—the packed sediment did preserve the paint. There’s no way it will survive contact with oxygenated water, and there’s no way he could explain away any pictures, so he commits each color to memory, all the beautiful ruddy reds and browns, and the gold and white geometric designs on the prow. It’s truly a masterpiece of construction, shell-first with mortise and tenon joints, sleek and sturdy and beautiful.

Though, he thinks as he starts attaching cables to the boat, maybe a little too sleek. Hopefully it’s sturdy enough to withstand the pulling.

“Eunice,” he calls, “you ready?” She’s not his first choice for an assistant, but he figures even she can’t screw up pressing a button.

She frowns at the machine, the image odd on her delicate face. If he didn’t know better, he would say she was afraid of it. “Prince, explain again, what would you have me do?”

Okay, nevermind. “You know what, just swap with me.”

“My lord?”

“Just keep the boat from shaking too bad, and try and slip water between the wood and the rock to help wiggle it out. I’ll man the winch.”

The winch is automatic, but Percy still has to keep his attention divided more than he’d like between the cable and the boat and the rock, making sure nothing goes catastrophically wrong. It’s slow going, and sometimes they have to pause the winch to maneuver around a particularly stubborn piece of earth, but between Eunice and Percy, they manage to slide the hull out of the packed stone. Percy winces a t every groan and every ding of rock against the wood, but that’s okay. No wreck is perfect.

A particularly spiky shard of rock scratches a deep line across the gold paint, and Percy kind of wants to cry about it.

Then, the winch abruptly stops, the mechanics whining in protest. The cables pull taut, and the wood screams.

It’s over in a second, but to Percy, it might as well be slow motion.

The keel can apparently no longer stand being dragged over the rough earth. Percy watches in horror as a catastrophic looking crack races across the wood, shooting up from bottom to top. The internal pegs on the mortise and tenon joints must have been more corroded than he thought, because as soon as they touch water, they disintegrate, and the ship pulls itself apart.

Percy swears.

“Are you okay? Percy!”

“I’m fine—it’s the ship!”

Eunice races over to the machine, overcoming her fear of technology to slam on the brakes.

“What happened?”

The port side of the hull has split in two, sharp splinters of wood floating in the water, and based on the creaking, the starboard side is just about on the brink, the force of the winch leaving it hovering in an awkward bend, listing to the right. The ship’s cargo has spilled out onto the rock, coins and ingots glinting in the soft light of Eunice’s bioluminescent skin.

“It broke,” he says, not at all able to keep the horror out of his voice.

“How?”

“I broke it.” A life-changing find that could upend the entire field of archaeology, and Percy goes and breaks it. He swims closer to investigate, running his fingers over the exposed wood.

“Talk to me.”

“The pegs must have been in worse shape than I thought.” Hopefully Percy can salvage at least one of them for further study. “The hull cracked towards the stern, and the joints just came apart.”

She swears. “How bad?”

“It’s not great.” The front half, suspended in the water, seems to have emerged mostly unscathed, but as for the stern, it is deeply, firmly wedged within the earth. “The stern is stuck, and I’m not sure I can get it out.”

“So, what now?”

Percy blows out a breath. “There’s nothing for it—we’ll have to keep going and excavate what we can.”

And break the other half of the ship in the process.

A lot of bad things had happened to Percy in his life. This doesn’t make the top ten, but it definitely makes the top twenty. Right in between getting kicked out of Goode and getting electrocuted by Thalia.

He takes a moment to mourn the loss of a beautifully made vessel, his hand over his heart, before waving back to Eunice. “Alright,” he calls. “Fire it up.”

Of course, he has to amend his list after he watches the winch rip apart the other side of the hull. This hurts way more than a lightning bolt to the chest.

But Percy’s been a soldier longer than he’s been an archaeologist, so he can get his job done, and grieve at the same time.

He takes a deep breath, calls on the power deep within him, and cracks a fault line.

It’s over, quicker and easier than blowing up Mount St. Helens, and less than forty minutes later he’s back on the ship, sitting too close to his wife in the galley, feeling sorry for himself.

“It’s really okay, babe.”

He groans, dropping his head in his hands. “I can’t believe I Schliemanned it!”

Arthur pokes his head in. “How are we looking on the scanners, Mrs. Jackson?”

Annabeth really likes Arthur. More specifically, Percy thinks she really likes it when he calls her by her family name. So he’s not surprised at her warm tone with him. “Minimal tsunami risk across the coast. Thanks for the save earlier.”

He blushes, mumbling. “It was nothing.”

She had sworn up and down to Percy that she had never been in any real danger. Percy did not believe Annabeth Ingrid Jackson about measures of danger (she feels the same about him, so it works out.) But his earthquake had rocked their boat more than a little bit. Annabeth hadn’t gotten far. And probably wouldn’t have made it over the side. But Arthur, all about safe harbor, had managed to grab her before anything too catastrophic occurred.

He slides in across from the now, tapping his feet against the base of the galley table. “So, what now?”

Percy pinches the bridge of his nose. “Now we wait. We’ll come back at some point in the spring, officially discover what’s left of the ship, and get it ready for surveying.”

“What’s left of it?” he wonders.

“I had to leave like a fifth of the wreck in the cave.” A whole fifth, including hull, keel, deck, and cargo. Annabeth rubs his back, and another wave of misery crashes over him. He can’t believe someone paid him over a quarter of a million dollars to come all this way and destroy the first priceless artifact he finds.

Arthur frowns, thoughtful. “Isn’t that a good thing, though?”

Percy lifts his head. “What do you mean?”

“Well, intact shipwrecks are super rare, even for stuff sunk in the last fifty years.”

“The Uluburun was mostly intact.”

“Mostly,” Arthur points out. “And it wasn’t stuck in a cave. What are the odds of a three thousand year old ship surviving being ripped out of a rockbed by an earthquake?”

“He’s right,” Annabeth says. “Honestly, the fact that it’s broken will probably add to its authenticity.”

Percy hums, noncommittally. They’re probably right. But he still feels bad about it. Bad enough that he feels like an hours-long swim to clear his head.

Annabeth is waiting for him when he climbs up on deck around midnight. Just Annabeth.

“Where’s Arthur?”

“Arthur went to bed,” she says. “I ended his watch for him.”

“You’re not the captain.”

“There was a power vacuum, on account of the captain going swimming with the fishes.”

He kisses her, the last dregs of his bad mood floating out to sea. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Me, too.”

They hold each other, swaying to the gentle motion of the waves, under a dark sky littered with stars, and Percy has a strange, distinct feeling that they’d done this before. Maybe in another life. Maybe in his dreams. But something about this moment, so peaceful and beautiful, feels eternal, immutable, like a cornerstone of the universe.

“Guess what?” she murmurs into his collarbone.

“Hmm?”

“I’m pregnant again.”

He goes warm, from the tips of his toes up to his chest and his cheeks. “Really?”

“I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner, given how excited you get on the water.”

Then he blushes for an entirely different reason.

“Sorry.”

“So not a problem.” She kisses him again. “So, so not a problem.”

***

Percy takes a sip of lukewarm water. It gets hot in Greece in early March, and this room, even with all the windows and doors open, is still pretty stuffy. “Excavation is currently underway at the Chrysi site, and is expected to continue through June, before resuming this coming September. By then, we should have completed both the trilateral and photogrammetric surveys of the site, and may be ready to begin excavating the cargo and other material for preservation.” He clicks to the final slide, a picture Arthur had taken of him, Annabeth, and the girls on the deck of the Flying Dolphin, and the audience politely coos, applauding while holding cups of hot tea.

Which makes sense, since this is a tea talk, something that apparently exists. But why do they all drink hot tea for these things? It’s over sixty degrees fahrenheit outside!

“Thank you so much,” says the moderator, an older woman with straight, white hair, who speaks fluent Greek in the most Jersey-ish accent he had ever heard in his life. “Really, really intriguing stuff. Shall we open the floor for questions?”

The audience is made up mostly of young grads, dutifully scribbling away in their notebooks, with some older academics scattered among them. They sit on couches and armchairs and rickety-looking wooden seats, lined up in rows, and the unlucky ones who didn’t get a seat either are relegated to the porch outside the salon, leaning against the door, or squished three to a person on the piano bench in the back.

A girl in the front row with dark, curly hair and a flannel shirt raises her hand. She doesn’t look that much older than him. Actually, she might be a few years younger. That’s kind of a sobering thought. “Thank you so much for such an interesting talk. My question is, you have all these different types of data, between the legacy data and the weather patterns—how do you keep it all organized?”

“With difficulty.” His audience chuckles. “For something with this many moving parts, I have to do it manually. However, drawing my own maps gives me the freedom to adapt on the fly.” And add data that would be, uh, inconsistent with mortal abilities. “Plus, my wife helps me keep everything straight.”

Annabeth flashes him a thumbs up from her front row seat. Junie flashes him two, and Lucie kicks her feet, distracted by the amphora on the bookshelf next to her. He hopes that Annabeth, at six months pregnant, still has her reflexes ready if Lucie tries to make the bookshelf baby’s first lava rock wall.

From the back of the room, a thin, reedy man with round glasses and a scruffy black beard raises his hand. “How do you choose your areas to survey? What made you pick Crete?”

The fish tell him. “I have specialties in deep-sea diving and open water sailing,” well, that’s one way of putting it, “so, the Aegean is just a little too shallow for my tastes. Plus, there’s been so much maritime traffic in the Levantine Sea since, well, forever, it seemed like a natural place to start.”

To the left of the first girl, another girl raises her hand, her sleeve falling to show off her amazing red figure pottery tattoo. “Thank you so much for sharing. The colors are just so bright and so strong, do you know, or do you have any theories as to why it hasn’t degraded?”

He and Annabeth have spent days hammering out the details Percy would fudge, drilling the answers so often they become automatic, but he’s still proud of himself for not tripping over his words when he answers, “It’s unclear as of right now. There’s still a ton of tests that need to be run, but my best guess would be that, after it sank, the ship ended up in some kind of anoxic environment, maybe like the Bannock Basin, that was able to preserve most of the organic matter.” He ducks his head, full of false modesty. “Of course, that’s just a theory.”

Annabeth smirks at him from the corner of his eye, and he really has to fight back the answering one which threatens to spread across his face.

The tea talk wraps up in due time, and the chairs and couches are summarily put back into place as the audience all moves out onto the porch, carrying plates of crackers and cheese and tall, thin bottles of ouzo. Percy hangs behind, lingering at the podium, entertaining the stragglers who come up with questions and “more of a comment, really” and whatever else, leaning against the wooden mantle now that the project screen which covered it has been retracted back into the ceiling. Annabeth has more or less let the kids roam the now-empty salon to their hearts’ content, allowing them to check out the art and artifacts with strict instructions to Junie not to touch, so she can hold court with Percy. He’s grateful, always, for her steady support.

“So you think it’s more of a warship,” says an older man, with a shock of white hair but the energy of a college student.

Percy nods. “At first glance, other than weaponry, the cargo looked like it was mostly looted material—jewelry, precious stones, that kind of thing.”

“I saw, those raw sapphires? What an amazing find!”

Next to him, Annabeth surreptitiously covers her brand new sapphire bracelet with her other hand.

“Where are you headed next? My wife and I have spent pretty much our whole careers excavating in Crete, so if you’re headed back that way in June, we’d love to take you two out to lunch.”

Annabeth’s eyes light up, a calculating spark. “Your wife is an archaeologist, too?”

He nods, proudly gesturing to a silvery haired woman, chatting in Greek with the moderator, her hand over her mouth as she laughs. “I study Bronze Age Crete, she does Hellenistic, and together, we’ve been excavating at Mochlos for, gosh, I don’t even remember how long.” Catching Annabeth’s expression, he asks her, “But you’re not an archaeologist, yeah?”

“Unfortunately,” she shrugs, ruefully. “I’m an architect.”

“Somebody has to bring in the bacon.”

The man laughs. “Well hey, it’s handy to have an architect out in the field! And to get to bring your kids with you, too…” He shakes his head, his gaze, like a magnet, turning back to his own wife. “I don’t have to tell you how special it is to have someone you love doing this work with you.”

Annabeth takes his hand, squeezing, but Percy has no qualms about public displays of affection, so he does not hesitate to sling his arm around her shoulders and kiss her on the cheek, loud and sloppy. She shoves him, laughing, and as he hears Junie and Lucie start playing around on the old piano in the corner of the salon, on this beautiful warm spring day in Athens, Percy can’t remember if he’s ever been happier.

***

They decide to extend their trip past the end of May. Estelle had been put out all year that she wasn’t able to live with her big brother on a boat and explore the Mediterranean for ancient shipwrecks instead of having to go to school, ugh, so Sally and Paul agree that they are all in dire need of some island time. Percy had to return the Dolphin at the end of his fellowship, and while he was sorry to see it go, the Amalia is a little bit nicer. The man he rented it from said it belonged to his yiayia, and he had brought it with him when he moved from Poros to the mainland. Where the Dolphin was all business, the Amalia is all homey, quiet pleasure. The man, Kostas (Percy had snorted, and Annabeth had had to kick him) had done his best to remove all personal traces to make her fit for rental, but Percy can still sense the love in every inch, from stem to stern. He runs his hand up the mast, and he’s nearly bowled over by the strong rush of emotions practically radiating from her—love, sorrow, and a pride so strong it makes his heart hurt.

As nice as she is, she still won’t hold all nine of them—the family plus Arthur, who is well on his way to becoming Sally Jackson’s third child—so Percy is spending more time on shore this one month than he has all year. He’s had to move out of the Piraeus apartment, too, but Paul got an amazing deal on a vacation rental apartment in Kolonaki, so Percy wakes up every morning to the sight of the Acropolis from his balcony, sipping on a nice, cold glass of peach juice.

Don’t get him wrong, it’s pretty nice. There’s not a lot to complain about.

But he’s very excited to get back out on the water for one last ride.

Just him and the love of his life.

He had no destination in mind, just somewhere far enough from shore to see if they could catch a glimpse of some dolphin pods. Annabeth, just about ready to pop, is lounging on the sun-drenched deck while Percy takes a call in the galley. “How do you feel about Nat Geo?” Ari asks in lieu of a greeting.

“Like in general?”

“Have you ever had media training?”

“...No?”

“Well, you’re going to.” Through the IM, Ari is happier than Percy’s ever seen him, his features smoothed out into a broad, happy grin. “The permit application just landed on my desk. I’m fielding requests from all over to get a glimpse of the Chrysi wreck.”

“I thought my problem was that I attracted too much attention.”

“You keep making life-changing discoveries like this, Praetor, and you can attract all the attention you can handle.”

“Hope so,” says Percy, “because Eunice told me that she heard from her sister that there’s another Bronze Age ship floating around Ithaca that needs discovering.”

He squints, suddenly suspicious. “You’re not planning another earthquake, are you?”

“Not currently, but who knows. There are a lot of subduction zones around Greece. Lots of places for ships to get stuck.”

But Ari just sighs, throwing his hands up in defeat, though his smile has come back. “Whatever, fine, whatever you need. Make your little earthquakes.”

Then, from above deck, an earth-shattering scream rips through the peaceful afternoon.

“PERCYYYYYYY!!!”

“Whoops, that’s my cue,” says Percy. “Gotta run, send me the Nat Geo details later!”

Swiping his hand through the image, he dashes up to the deck, expecting to find a pod of dolphins waiting in the water below.

Instead, he has to pivot, hard, and get down to work bringing his third daughter into the world.

The dolphins return later in the evening to meet the new little sea princess, then graciously offer to escort them back to shore, where his family (and a doctor) gather at the docks, ready and eager to meet their newest relative, little Thalassa Amalia Jackson.

“Thalassa?” Sally asks, holding the tiny thing, her voice soft with wonder.

“Annabeth’s idea, actually,” says Percy, hovering as the doctor checks his wife over. “Born amid ships.”

“And made amid ships, I suspect.”

Percy blushes, scratching his neck. “Guilty.”

“I also get to name the next one,” says Annabeth, exhausted but proud and healthy

“You can name every single one of them.” A deal like that shouldn’t be made lightly, but Percy doesn’t care. He’d give her the world if she asked for it. A name is nothing. “Except Olivia.”

But Annabeth just grins. “No take-backs!”

#based on a series of true stories and characters #my fic #pjo fic #percabeth #classics percy returns #the shipwreck hunting fic #my god this thing took so many forms #special thanks to no2ticonderoga and darkmagyk for letting me borrow arthur i promise to return him safely

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flowery-mess · 3 months ago

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Nerd Noah blurb🤭

Before you continue I have a question, do you guys want to be tagged in those short things or only in longer works? I never if I should tag you even with those short ideas or not

What if one day you come to work and there’s no new note from Noah, so you’re sad, because you woke up in a bad mood and were looking forward to one of his cute notes.

You sit down and start your computer, trying not to think too much about no note.

As you wait for the computer to be ready for you to start working you notice a foreign subject under the monitor.

You reach out for it and suspiciously look at it from all sides.

And then you notice. It’s a little origami butterfly. As you turn it around you notice “good” written on the paper.

It couldn’t be, right?

You carefully lift the folded paper, slowly so you don’t ruin the shape of a butterfly. And then you see “good morning,”

You unfold the paper until it’s not a butterfly anymore and you see Noah’s handwriting: “good morning, hope you had a nice weekend” and little heart next to it.

You wish you could go see him right now, but you have a lot of work to catch up on and he has a meeting every monday morning, so you’ll have to wait until lunch.

When lunch time comes around you grab the note and walk to Noah’s office.

“Hi.” he turns his attention to you.

“Hi.” you smile at him and keep the note behind your back. “So, I was sad this morning when I arrived and didn’t see a note from you.” you can see the panic form in his eyes, he almost starts talking, but you cut him off.

“And then I saw a little butterfly under my monitor. Why are you so cute, Noah?”

His cheeks turn a light shade of pink at your compliment and he’s happy that you like it.

“I wanted to do something new today.” he smiles at you and you can’t help it and reach out to tuck some of his loose hair behind his ear.

“Where did you learn how to do origami?”

“My niece taught me this weekend.” he shrugs his shoulders as if it should be obvious.

“You have a niece?” you pout at him with hearts in your eyes. The picture of Noah and a little girl doing origami together melts your heart instantly.

“Yep.”

“How old is she?”

“She’s five. She was sleeping at mine so my sister and brother in law could go out.”

“You never mentioned her. Oh Noah, you’re such a sweetheart.” your heart melts every time you find out something new about him.

He just laughs, and doesn't know how to answer such a compliment.

“I was wondering if you could fold it back? So I can have the butterfly on my desk.” you finally pull your hand from your back and hand him the note.

“Sure.” he starts folding the paper back into the butterfly shape. You watch his hands work, treating the small piece of paper in such a delicate way. You don’t understand how his big hands and long fingers can do such a thing.

He likes precision, so you’re not surprised when he refolds some parts a few times just to get it done perfectly.

“Done.” he lifts the paper that looks like a butterfly again and hands it to you.

“Thank you!” you say excitedly and take it from his hand. “How about I give you a ride home today so you can tell me more about your niece and what you did on the weekend?”

“Okay, sure, if you don’t mind.” he accepts your offer and you leave his office, not without giving him a kiss on the cheek.

You hope he’s going to invite you to his place again.

dividers: silent-stories

taglist: @lacy1986 @concretejunglefm @super-btstrash-posts @amelia-acero @justcarrie @koskeepsake @dominuslunae @ami--gami @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @lilcrazy011 @pipidoll @chey-h @xmads-omensx @blade-dressed-in-red @respectfulrebel @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrscevans @blvckmvgicwoman @punkprincess1999 @fear-its-beauty @bloody-spades @n0n3xsisting @thenmaybehellaintsobadafterall @athenexe @tashka @badomensls @fadingintothegrey @concrtlimits @whatismylifexox @theanarchymuse95 @renegadebirch @theasowle @darknightstarryeyes @montgomery-929496

#nerd noah #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian blurb #noah sebastian fan fiction #noah sebastian fanfiction

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madhels-enby-boyfriend · 4 months ago

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Play stupid games

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Joanne x reader (company, f!Bobbie)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI!! Mentions of alcohol, going to a club, actual smut, public teasing, someone persistently flirting with reader and reader being uncomfortable and I think that’s it??

Tags: longing, established friendship between reader, Joanne and the others, jealousy, possessiveness, angst, reader being down bad. Service top!reader and bossy bottom!Joanne, hickeys, eating out (J receiving), Joanne’s first time with a woman, that’s all I think.

Notes: First of all thank you to the wonderful @imorynn for beta reading this for me and cheering me on and giving me confidence while I wrote this🫶🏻🫂!!

Second of all I haven’t written smut in years folks so.. I’m a bit rusty.. I hope it’s still enjoyable. Please let me know if there is anything I forgot to tag/put in the warnings.

Words: ~7.1K

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

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Chapter 3: Bobbie’s fun night out

Your next two weeks had been hectic to say the least, your work had suddenly ramped up both in difficulty and volume. You didn’t get much spare time, so you hadn’t gotten the chance to see Joanne in two weeks and you had to admit that you missed her. Sure you texted her, but that wasn’t the same as being in her presence, as seeing those beautiful brown eyes light up when she managed to fluster you, as feeling her hand rest on your thigh while she explained something to you.

The fact that you had had to turn down three of her invitations to join her to some fancy event that one of her high society friends was hosting, due to the amount of work you had, didn’t help either. You had felt extremely guilty about it, even though she had reassured you time and time again that it was okay and that she understood.

You tried to snap yourself out of your trance to focus on the last bit of work that needed to be done before the weekend. Once today was done, work was supposed to calm down a little again, you just needed to manage to get through these last few hours.. but it was proving to be more difficult than you had hoped. Joanne continued to plague your mind and you didn’t seem to be able to focus on anything other than how much you missed her. You inwardly groaned at your own inability to get this woman out of your head.

You wouldn’t have minded working this much, if you had spent your time doing useful things, or things you found even semi-interesting. But every waking moment had been spent doing things that bored the ever lasting shit out of you and that seemed to have no purpose at all. You frustratedly stared at your computer screen and decided to take a small break, grabbing your phone to text Joanne, something that had almost become second nature to you, whenever you had a minute to spare.

“Are you perchance interested in becoming my sugar momma, so I can stop wasting my time here and start doing things I actually like?”

You sent the text before you could start overthinking it, not having the energy to spiral about your feelings for the brunette at the moment. It didn’t take long for you to receive a reply that matched your playful text.

“Well, doll, if you’re as good at using that mouth on me as you are at using it to make filthy comments, then I may just consider it.”

You could almost hear her say it to you with that teasing smirk plastered on her lips, as she sent a devious wink your way. Oh god… you really were down bad for this woman.

“There is only one way to find out.”

You had decided to reply quickly before pouring yourself into your work again, using it as a distraction from the constant ache in your chest and between your legs. There really was no worse combination than being horny and sad at the same time.

Once your work was done you checked your phone…still no answer. As you packed up your stuff, you began to regret being so forward, had it been too much? Surely not… both you and Joanne had said much more filthy things.. but it had always been said in person, maybe the playfulness got lost over text.

As you made your way home, you fought the urge to send Joanne a clarifying text, stating that you were only joking. But you held back, scared that she might be annoyed at you for ruining your little game if you overexplained yourself. You groaned at your own idiocy, no matter what you did, you’d be filled with anxiety and overthink it later.

When you finally made it to your apartment, your head was spinning from the amount of work you had done, the exhaustion that had caught up with you, and all of the overthinking you had done. Still life wouldn’t grant you even a second to gather your bearings, because not even 5 minutes after closing the door behind you and taking off your coat, your phone rang.

Bobbie’s name flashed across the screen. You begrudgingly picked up, you were exhausted, but you hadn’t heard from her in a while and you felt guilty for neglecting your best friend. Before you could even get a word out Bobbie’s voice rang in your ear.

“Joanne and I are on our way to your place. We’re taking you out tonight, you don’t have a choice. You need to relax and unwind and we’re going to make sure that you do. We’re all getting ready at yours and we brought food so you have no excuse. Expect us there in 10 minutes.”

She was talking at the speed of light and it was taking every little bit of mental power you still had left in you to follow what she was saying. Before you could even protest or respond Bobbie had hung up. She was right, you did need to unwind, but you weren’t sure if you could handle Bobbie’s way of unwinding at the moment. You sighed as you accepted your fate, you knew there was no arguing with Bobbie when she was like this… and you really had missed her. Besides you couldn’t say no to Joanne, not again..not ever really. You suspected that was part of the reason why Bobbie had brought her along.. well that and because she probably had some stupid plan to try and get you and Joanne together, despite your insistence that you were 100% certain that she was not into you.

Bobbie had kept her word and 10 minutes later she and Joanne had stood at your door, holding food. You had let them in and the entirety of dinner was spent catching up on what everyone had been doing these past two weeks.

You were quieter than usual and most of Joanne’s teasing remarks went unanswered by you. You were still overthinking the message you had sent, Joanne clearly wasn’t upset with you or she wouldn’t be here, but part of you couldn’t help but fear that you had made her uncomfortable. No one had questioned your silence though, and after everyone had finished their dinner Bobbie, Joanne and you started to get ready.

Bobbie had chosen your dress for you, claiming you were in no state to dress yourself, because you’d probably choose to go out in sweats or something. She picked one of your favourite dresses, it was a bit revealing but was still comfortable enough to spend an entire night dancing and drinking in. It always gave you a confidence boost, and you sure as hell could use one right about now.

Bobbie had insisted that it would be fine if you all got changed in the same room, according to her you were all mature women and it was nothing you hadn’t seen before. You knew exactly what she was doing though, so instead you had gotten changed in the bathroom, while Joanne and Bobbie got dressed in your bedroom.

You stopped in your tracks as you walked back out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Joanne looked absolutely breathtaking, you were quite sure this dress was new.. you’d definitely remember having seen her in this before. The black dress hugged her figure in all the right places and gave you a beautiful view of her cleavage.

If you hadn’t been so busy gawking at and drooling over Joanne, you would have noticed how her eyes had hungrily raked over your body, any subtlety the woman might have possessed being thrown out the window as she drank you in.

You snapped out of your trance and hoped Joanne hadn’t caught you staring at her. You walked further back into the bedroom as you tried to figure out which shoes to wear.

For a while silence hung in the air as everyone seemed preoccupied with getting themselves ready for your night out. That’s until Joanne walked up to you and broke the silence, her voice quiet, nearly a whisper.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She asked seemingly out of nowhere, it caught you off guard. Had you really been this bad at hiding your feelings tonight? What could you even say? You couldn’t exactly tell her she was the reason for your torment. You didn’t have the energy for this.

“I’m fine.”

It was the least convincing lie you had ever told, and you didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that Joanne didn’t buy what you were saying. You weren’t surprised when she tilted her head questioningly, however the expected disapproving eyebrow raise did not follow. Instead her brows knitted into a frown and her eyes filled with something akin to sadness and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“I can give you and Bobbie a moment… if you want to talk to her about it.”

Her voice sounded less concerned and more sharp, she seemed almost angry… although that wasn’t the right emotion either. You knew what an angry Joanne looked like and this wasn’t it. A frown of your own made its way onto your face as your confusion grew. Why on Earth would she be pissed at you for not telling her something… or more accurately why was she pissed at the possibility of you telling Bobbie and not her?? And that’s when it hit you, the glint in her eye you hadn’t been able to place earlier, it was jealousy.

Your confusion only grew at that.. why would Joanne be jealous? Your more hopeful side suggested that it might be because she had feelings for you, reminding you of how jealous you had felt at the idea of others getting to see Joanne’s more vulnerable side. Your more rational side quickly shot that idea down, there was no use in getting your hopes up, Joanne would never like you, not like that… she clearly had a type and that type was rich people.. and you did not belong in that category.

You internally sighed and decided to try and figure this mess out when you had more energy and weren’t currently joined by the woman that was the reason for your confusion.

“It’s okay, really. I’m just tired, that's all.”

You sent her, what you hoped to be, a reassuring smile while you finished getting ready. Joanne clearly wasn’t convinced, but she knew when to drop the subject, so focused on applying her lipstick.

You tried to focus your attention on yourself, you really did, but you were completely enthralled with the way Joanne applied her lipstick. Your eyes landed on her lips and followed her hand as it steadily and carefully painted her beautiful lips red. You were hopeless, even when your thoughts were racing and the tension in the air felt palpable, you still couldn’t stop admiring this woman.

Bobbie cleared her throat, snapping you out of your trance. You sent her an appreciative look, silently thanking her for bringing you back down to earth. There was already way too much tension in the air, the last thing this situation needed was for Joanne to catch you staring at her putting on her lipstick like it was the eighth wonder of the world.

Some of the tension seemed to ease as everyone finished getting ready. You assumed Joanne had decided that this hadn’t been worth ruining her evening for, or maybe she did buy that you were just tired. No matter the reason, the tension in the air no longer felt like it might crush you beneath its weight and you were grateful for that.

By the time you got to you guys’ favourite club, light banter once again could be heard between Bobbie, Joanne and you. There was definitely still a distinct lack of crude remarks, but you figured that they would return once you all had a couple of drinks in you.

As a thank you for dragging you out of your apartment, you agreed to buy the first round of drinks. You made your way over to the bar as Bobbie and Joanne found you guys a table. Before you even reached the bar you were stopped by someone putting a hand on your arm.

You turned around to look at the person who had demanded your attention. Your eyes met blue ones that very clearly checked you out, before landing on your own again. The woman in front of you was pretty, no one could deny that, her dress hugged her curvy figure, her brown curls were styled perfectly and she carried herself with confidence.

You only half listened to what she was saying though, her intentions were quite clear, the way her eyes raked over your body was anything but subtle, she touched you a little bit too often for it to be friendly, and her compliments held a barely hidden sexual layer.

You had tried to end the conversation, making your way over to the bar, and always answering politely without being flirty, but she didn’t seem to get the hint and had followed you to the bar. As you were waiting to order drinks for you and your friends, she asked the following question.

“Would you care to dance?”

In any other situation you would have gladly accepted the invitation, who wouldn’t want to dance with a beautiful woman that was clearly interested in more than just a dance? But no matter how pretty or attractive this woman might be, you couldn’t get yourself to care about her advances, the compliments she threw your way fell on deaf ears, and this invitation wasn’t enticing to you in the slightest.

It wasn’t the woman’s fault, really, you just couldn’t get yourself to care about anyone but Joanne in that way. You had tried to subtly show her that you weren’t interested, but the woman had been persistent. It had started to make you a little uncomfortable, yet you didn’t want to be unkind, so you answered politely.

“I’m sorry, I can’t, my friends are waiting for me. I’m sure by now they’re already cursing me for making them wait for their drinks this long.”

Your laugh was forced and so was your smile, you hoped the other woman understood what you were saying and would leave you alone. Alas, she seemed to take your words as a challenge and put a hand on your waist. She tried to guide you away from the bar as she spoke.

“Oh come on, I’m sure they won’t mind waiting a little longer.”

You moved her hand away from your body and were about to bluntly tell her that you weren’t interested, when you suddenly became aware of Joanne’s presence. In your struggle to let this woman know that you didn’t want to spend the night with her, you hadn’t noticed her walking up to you.

“Are you okay, baby? Bobbie and I have been waiting for you.”

Joanne purred in your ear as she sent a glare to the other woman, while wrapping her arms around your waist. She hugged you from behind and possessively pulled you closer to her and away from the brunette.

Your brain short circuited for a moment, being this close to Joanne while she called you ‘baby’ was making a mess of your underwear. It took a second for you to realise what she was doing, it wasn’t until you heard the woman in front of you mutter an apology while she walked away, that you realised what her plan had been.

You turned around to face her but Joanne didn’t release you from her grip just yet. So you looked down at her, into her mesmerising brown eyes, and that’s when you saw it again, the emotion from earlier, clear as day, jealousy.

“Thank you, I was running out of nice ways to turn her down.”

You said softly while hoping your blush hadn’t been too obvious, although you were quite sure you were bright red. You made no effort to free yourself from Joanne’s grasp, so her arms stayed around your waist.

“No problem. You looked uncomfortable so I figured you could use a knight in shining armour to come rescue you.”

Her teasing tone was accompanied by a wink. You assumed her playfulness was supposed to hide the real feelings you could see swirling in those brown eyes. They were so clear that even your more negative side couldn’t sow any doubt in your mind about what you saw.

“Well how can I repay you, my brave knight?”

Your tone was suggestive but lacked its usual playfulness. You were either going to regret this even more than your text message earlier today, or this was going to be the best decision you had made in a while.

It was Joanne’s turn to blush now, her eyes quickly flicked to your lips, before focusing on your eyes again, searching them, as if she was trying to figure out how serious you were being.

You couldn’t stop the smirk that appeared on your lips, flustering Joanne always felt like a little victory. That smirk only grew when you saw Joanne’s pupils grow larger as her eyes filled with hunger and want. Any fear you may have held before got drowned out as your thoughts became clouded with need and desire.

“I can think of a few ways..”

Joanne’s voice was low and steady, making it clear that she wasn’t joking. Her hands slowly traveled from your waist to your ass, giving you plenty of time to stop her and tell her she had been mistaken, should you wish to. But you didn’t, because even mere hours ago the thought of this ever actually happening seemed impossible, and yet right now Joanne was looking at you like she needed you more than air.

In a small moment of clarity, you suddenly remembered that Bobbie had joined you both here, and no matter how badly you wanted this, you would never just leave Bobbie here on her own. Luckily for you, when you glanced her way, you saw that she was talking to her own conquest for the night. When she caught you looking at her, she sent you a reassuring smile and a teasing wink, telling you it was okay for you to leave. That wink also told you that Bobbie was going to be insufferable about this for the next few weeks, she would probably make you thank her and you’d probably lose count of the many ‘I told you so’s.

This little exchange between Bobbie and you seemed to fuel Joanne’s jealousy even more. She pulled you impossibly closer to her and when you looked back at her, she looked ready to pounce on you right then and there.

The way she was looking at you told you that you would be unwinding differently than you had expected tonight, but this time you didn’t mind. You leaned in closer and whispered in her ear.

“Take me out of here and I’m all yours.”

That’s all it took for her to drag you out of the club and into a cab. The drive to your apartment was excruciating, it seemed to last twice as long as it normally did, and you needed Joanne out of that little dress now. You decided to tease her a little, to pass the time, whispering sweet promises of how you planned to thank your saviour once you got back to your apartment, into her ear.

Your teasing seemed to work because her hand possessively gripped your thigh and it didn’t leave its place for the rest of the drive, her pointer finger drawing random shapes on your inner thigh as she undressed you with her eyes.

By the time you finally made it inside your apartment, you (and your panties) were a mess. Apparently you hadn’t been the only impatient one though, because the second you had closed the door, Joanne pushed you against it and kissed you, hard. The kiss was passionate, hungry and possessive, her hands were on your waist and kept you pinned against the door. You kissed her back with that same intensity, pouring all of your need and want into it, while your hands cupped her cheeks, pulling her even closer as you deepened the kiss.

You pulled back when you needed to breathe, which caused Joanne to whine, she clearly hadn’t been ready to part with your lips just yet. Before you could even begin to tease her about it, her lips were on the side of your neck, making you moan and completely forget what you had planned to tease her about. Your hands moved to her ass, giving it a soft squeeze, earning you a needy moan against your neck. She kissed, sucked, and bit any skin she could reach and you tilted your head to give her more space. She was definitely leaving marks and that only made you wetter, you really were a sucker for this possessive side of hers.

You reluctantly pushed her off, which elicited another whine from her, as she looked up at you with needy and hungry eyes. You didn’t give her the chance to complain as you whispered into her ear.

“Let’s take this to my bedroom, my bed is far more comfortable than this door.”

You chuckled softly while looking into her desire filled eyes. Joanne didn’t need to be told twice and grabbed your wrist, dragging you into your bedroom, which was still littered with her and Bobbie’s stuff from getting ready earlier tonight, neither of you could bring yourself to care though.

The second you made it into your bedroom your lips were back on Joanne’s, you quickly stepped out of your shoes while your hands found the zipper of Joanne’s dress. You pulled back a little, resting your forehead against hers.

“Can I take this off?”

Your breathing came out ragged and your voice betrayed how badly you wanted the other woman, who didn’t seem too pleased at no longer having your lips on her.

“Yes.”

Joanne almost whined the word, like she was pleading you to take it off. She clearly needed and wanted this just as much as you did and that gave you a boost of confidence.

You guided her to step out of her heels before undoing the zipper at the back of her dress, while you kissed her neck. Now it was your turn to leave your marks and you didn’t plan to stop at her neck. Her needy moans filled your ears and as you slid her dress down her figure, your mouth found her right collarbone, peppering it with soft kisses before beginning to suck and bite at the skin, leaving hickeys in your wake.

You gave the left collarbone the exact same treatment while guiding her back to your bed. Joanne’s moans and whines spurred you on as you carefully pushed her down on the bed, pulling back a little so you could take a proper look at her.

Your own desire grew as you took in the beautiful sight in front of you. Joanne sprawled out on your bed in nothing but her lace black set. Her eyes, clouded with need, looked up at you expectantly. You could see the slightest sliver of self consciousness in them, so you immediately voiced your thoughts, letting Joanne know just how stunning you thought she was.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon.”

You whispered reverently, the truth behind your words clear in the way you looked at her, like she was a precious constellation and you wanted to study every single star. You quickly got rid of your dress and crawled on top of her, you didn’t miss how her eyes studied you, as if she was trying to mesmerize every single dip and curve on display.

You kissed her passionately, there was still hunger and need in your kiss, but they were now coated with something softer, gentler, something deeper than simply lust. Your tongue asked for entrance by softly and slowly swiping over Joanne’s bottom lip. She eagerly obliged your request and welcomed your tongue into her mouth, stroking it with her own. The sound of your moans got silenced against each other's lips as you explored Joanne’s mouth.

Your hands began to explore her body, tracing her sides before cupping her breasts, while your knee found its place in between her legs. You pressed it against the damp cloth of her black panties, which made Joanne whine against your mouth as she instinctively began to grind against your knee.

Joanne pulled back, in desperate need of air, while you unclasped her bra, throwing it to the other side of the room, as if the piece of fabric had personally offended you by simply existing. You began kissing her neck once more before making your way down to her collarbone, leaving soft kisses on the marks you had left earlier. You pulled back for a second, wanting to admire the view once more. A soft moan left your lips as you took in how stunning she looked with your marks littered all over her, before you continued your descent.

Your mouth found its way to her boob, lavishing it with soft kisses at first, then deciding to tease the woman underneath you by circling her nipple with your tongue. Your hand gave her other boob similar attention, kneading it softly, before circling her nipple with your fingers, pinching it when it hardened.

Joanne’s moans grew in volume and frequency, your name tumbled freely from her lips, while she continued to grind herself against your knee. Her hands tangled in your hair, pushing you impossibly closer to her. Your lips made their way to her other boob, leaving a small mark in the valley between her boobs as you muttered how incredibly hot she looked like this.

Your lips never got to finish their journey though, because Joanne softly tugged your hair, pulling you away from her and eliciting a whine from you. You looked up at her, searching her eyes, trying to figure out if you’d made her uncomfortable or if she was regretting this. As you were about to ask if she wanted to stop, she admitted ever so softly.

“I’ve never been with a woman before.”

Her voice came out uncharacteristically shy and small, she worried her lip between her teeth and she had trouble maintaining eye contact.

“Do you want to stop?”

You asked softly, not an ounce of judgment or annoyance in your voice. You looked at her with nothing but kindness and a little bit of worry as you gave her a reassuring smile. She shook her head before answering.

“No..I want this… I really do.. I.. I just don’t want to disappoint...”

Your heart ached as you watched the usually confident woman look so fragile. You gently brushed some hair out of her face, looking at her with all the feelings that had been brewing beneath the surface all these months clearly displayed on your face.

“Joanne, you could never disappoint me because I don’t expect anything from you. I simply want to feel you, taste you and have you near me. All I want is to show you just how beautiful I think you are.”

Joanne looked at you with those mesmerising brown eyes filled with gratitude and lust, the worry slowly ebbing away from her features, yet there was still a bit of nervousness present.

“Do you want me to slow down?”

You asked softly, wanting to make sure that you made Joanne’s first time as memorable and as comfortable for her as you possibly could. Your question was met with a chuckle and her answer once again carried that teasing tone, indicating Joanne was starting to feel comfortable once again.

“Baby, if you go any slower I think I may go mad with need.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, you knew Joanne could be a little impatient but you had barely even started yet and she was already complaining about your pace.

“Tell me what you want.”

Your voice came out hoarse and the desire in it was very poorly hidden as your eyes roamed her body, yet there was also a gentleness in your tone that portrayed the feelings you had for her.

“I need your mouth on me.”

Joanne’s words came out hoarse and breathy, her previous faux-confidence seemed to have been replaced with a more real self assuredness, as her bossy side came out once again. Her words were accompanied by a little tug at your hair, as if to make her words even more clear, she was definitely getting comfortable and you loved it.

You had half the mind to make her say please, not wanting to give in too easily, but you knew Joanne too well and you knew how difficult opening up like that must have been for her, so you decided against it and instead complied with her request.

You picked up where you had left off and began to pepper the previously neglected boob with soft kisses, before giving it the same treatment as the other. Your tongue circled her nipple, only this time when the bud hardened, you gently sucked it into your mouth, which caused Joanne to groan loudly. Your hand copied what you had done earlier to her other breast, massaging it gently and pinching her nipple when it hardened.

Once you were satisfied and certain that her boobs had gotten the attention they deserved, you kissed your way down to her belly, alternating between soft kisses and sucking and biting at the skin available to you, leaving a trail of marks before lavishing her stomach with kisses, leaving similar marks all over it.

Your work was rewarded with Joanne moaning loudly and whining your name, your only mission was to draw out as many of those beautiful sounds as you could. Your underwear was ruined, there was nothing on this earth that turned you on more than seeing Joanne like this while she moaned your name.

You continued traveling your way down, placing a soft kiss on top of her clothed mound before kissing her inner thigh. Joanne’s frustrated groan fuelled your desire to tease her even more. So you took your time exploring every inch of her inner thigh with your mouth and tongue before giving the other side the same treatment.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

She basically growled, her frustration clear in her voice and in the way her body tensed underneath you. If you had any more patience left in you, you’d make her wait just a little bit longer, but you could smell Joanne’s desire because of how close you were to her soaked underwear and every fiber of your being needed to taste her.

You pressed the gentlest of kisses on her clothed center before looking up at her with the most innocent look you could muster.

“I’m savouring the way you feel, sound and look, you should never rush when you’re working with art.”

For the second time that night you managed to fluster Joanne, but there was no time to dwell on your little victory, because when you looked down you could see just how wet she was and you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“Lift up your hips for me, love.”

You whispered with a low and raspy voice, the command gentle yet firm as you carefully tugged at her panties.

Joanne did as you asked and you pulled her panties down her legs, which caused her to gasp, as the air hit her soaked cunt. Once she had been freed from her panties, and they too had been tossed across the room, you took a moment to admire the sight in front of you. You licked your lips, Joanne was dripping wet and it was all because of you.

Your hands softly stroked her thighs as you pressed a gentle kiss against her folds, holding back a moan at her scent and taste. Joanne whined your name and you couldn’t hold back any longer, your tongue darted out and you licked in between her folds, collecting all the wetness there.

“Fuck, you taste so good.”

You moaned against her while your hands wrapped around her thighs so you could pull her closer. Joanne’s hips bucked up against you, the sounds and pleas that spilled from her mouth made you dizzy with desire.

Your tongue slowly drew circles around her clit while you looked up at her, taking in every little reaction and committing it to memory. Before she could complain about your pace you began to gently suck on her clit, occasionally flicking it with your tongue.

You could feel her thighs tense around your head, her breathing became more ragged and her moans came in rapid succession. With one last flick you abandoned her clit and licked your way back down her folds before pushing your tongue inside her, this earned you a guttural moan and a particularly desperate whine.

You curled your tongue inside her and began exploring every part of her, any self restraint you had had earlier, had gone completely as your tongue’s movements picked up in pace and intensity. Your hands pulled her down on you even harder, needing her as close to you as possible while you ate her out like you had been starving and she was the first meal you’d had in weeks.

Joanne’s moans increased in pitch, sound and frequency, the only coherent thing that tumbled from her lips was your name as she ground down against your face erratically. Her hands grabbed the sheets beneath her so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Her walls clenched around your tongue and her thighs began to shake. You could tell she was close, so your mouth continued its ministrations while one of your hands let go of her thighs so your thumb could circle her neglected clit.

And that toppled her over the edge, she came screaming your name, drenching your tongue and chin in her cum, making you moan at her taste. You continued to gently circle her clit while slowly moving your tongue inside her, fucking Joanne through her orgasm.

Once her breathing calmed down a little you stopped circling her clit and licked up every bit of cum, not wanting to waste a drop.

“Baby… sensitive…”

Joanne whined, still out of breath. After pressing one last gentle kiss against her pussy and inner thighs, you began kissing your way back up again. You only got up to Joanne’s belly before she tangled her hands into your hair and pulled you up to kiss her properly. She moaned against your mouth when she tasted herself on your lips, which caused you to chuckle.

“Told you, you taste good.”

Your voice was light and teasing as you mumbled the words against her lips before pulling back a little, just in time to see Joanne roll her eyes at you. You pushed yourself off the bed and made your way to the bathroom but stopped when you heard Joanne’s hoarse voice.

“Where are you going?”

Your lips twitched into a smile when you heard the neediness in her voice, she wanted you close to her and you had to admit that that felt good.

“Just going to grab a towel, I’ll be right back.”

You sent her a reassuring smile before quickly disappearing into the bathroom, grabbing a soft towel, and quickly making your way back to the stunning woman on your bed.

“Open your legs for me, darling.”

You looked up at her expectantly and she only now seemed to realise what was going on. Joanne did as you asked and spread her legs for you. You gently and carefully cleaned up the mess that you had left behind between her legs. She whined softly, still sensitive from earlier and you sent her an apologetic smile.

Once you were finished you discarded the towel and crawled back into bed with Joanne, who instantly clung to you as you laid down next to her. You hadn’t thought she would be the clingy type, but you certainly didn’t mind. You pulled the covers over both of you, her arms wrapped around your waist as she laid her head on your shoulder.

“Do you want me to..?”

Her voice was filled with uncertainty as she asked the question, unable to finish the sentence, clearly unsure on what to do in this situation. You shook your head, looking down at her before gently cupping her cheek and making her look up at you. Your voice was tender and caring as you spoke to her.

“Tonight was all about you, I had to thank my knight in shining armour, remember? Besides there is nothing more satisfying to me than getting to watch you unravel beneath me like that.”

For the third time tonight, Joanne blushed, this must be a record, you thought. A smile made its way onto her face, she seemed pleased with your answer.

“Do you want an old shirt of mine to sleep in? I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

Joanne thought for a minute as she pulled you closer, turning her head to place a soft kiss against your shoulder, before looking up at you once more.

“I’m okay, I’ve got my personal heater… although this has got to go… it’s just blatantly unfair.”

She said while her pointer finger hooked under the front of your bra and tugged at it ever so slightly. She looked up at you with the cutest puppy eyes you had ever seen, as if you could ever say no to her.

It was your time to roll your eyes as you sat up a little to get rid of your bra. Joanne unashamedly ogled your chest as you discarded your bra.

“Enjoying the view?”

You teased her, your voice playful but she made no effort to look you in the eyes as she nodded before pulling you back down next to her. You pulled her closer to you and she rested her head on your boobs while her arms wrapped around your waist. You gently pressed a kiss to the top of her head while you played with her hair.

You laid there for a moment, in complete silence, simply enjoying each other’s warmth and company. You were about to speak up and ask her if she needed anything else, when you heard soft snores tumbling from her lips.

You chuckled softly and admired her sleeping form for a while. You stopped playing with her hair, your hand found its place on her hip and you closed your eyes. You fell asleep while being held by Joanne as you listened to her deep breathing and snores. Despite the ache between your legs, it was the best sleep you had had in… well ever…actually.

You groaned when the light that streamed in through your window, and past your half closed curtains, woke you up. Still half asleep you felt around for Joanne, you could no longer feel her arms around you, so you expected her to have moved away from you in her sleep. When you found nothing but an empty, cold spot next to you, you reluctantly opened your eyes. You looked around the room but there was no trace of Joanne, it was as if she had never even been there. You shot out of bed and quickly threw on an old t-shirt.

“Joanne?!”

You yelled out into the apartment as you walked out of your bedroom, your voice a little unsteady as your negative thoughts began to plague you, but you received no answer. You walked into the kitchen, past the empty living room, hoping to find her there, making some coffee for herself, but you had no such luck.

No.. surely she wouldn’t have just disappeared without saying anything.. not after last night. You must have missed a note or something in your bedroom. You walked back to your bedroom and looked everywhere but couldn’t find anything. There was no note that gave you any reason or explanation as to why you had woken up alone. Your thoughts began to spiral as you searched for your phone, she must have left you a text, maybe she had gone out to grab some breakfast for the both of you and didn’t want to wake you up.

When you finally found your phone there was not a single text from Joanne and that’s when reality hit you, she had left, just like that, like you had been some sort of one night stand that she regretted the morning after and wanted to leave behind as soon as possible.

No.. no she wouldn’t… any minute now she was going to walk into your apartment and explain why you had woken up in an empty bed…she had to.

You sat down on your bed and waited.. and waited… and waited… you weren’t sure for how long, it felt like an eternity, and with every agonising minute that passed, your hope shrank. After a while it became clear to you that she wouldn’t be walking through that door. You tried to be hopeful.. maybe she had a good reason.. but every reason you found to explain this sudden disappearance, was shut down by a solution in which she could have easily let you know why she wasn’t currently in your bed.

You stared down at your phone.. should you text her? And say what exactly? It was obvious that she didn’t want to talk to you… she had disappeared without as much as leaving you a note or a text… if that wasn’t a clear sign that she wanted to be left alone, then you didn’t know what was.

You crawled back into bed, you couldn’t deal with this right now, so you grabbed your pillow and hugged it tightly as tears streamed down your face. Your heart felt like it had been ripped out of your chest, was consequently smashed into a million pieces, and had then been forcefully pushed back into your chest. This was your own fault, you thought, you shouldn’t have assumed that this meant anything to Joanne… maybe this was just all part of that stupid game of yours. As you cried yourself back to sleep, the only thought that plagued your mind was that you now finally understood the phrase ‘play stupid games, win stupid prizes’.

#company #joanne x reader #fanfic #play stupid games #chapter 3

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simplybakugou · 11 months ago

Text

Story Mode | Mystic Academia: Kaminari Denki's Route

⋆ PAIRING: gamer/streamer!kaminari x fem!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: slight violence and danger; mentions of blood; swearing ⋆ WORD COUNT: 788

A/N: the first written story mode! hehe it’s inspired by yoosung’s route but i did my best to make it my own :)

NOTE: credits to @eraserhead-transparents for the kaminari cap and this part was inspired by day 10 of yoosung's route

Mystic Academia: Kaminari Denki's Route Masterlist

“Dude, are you sure we’re going the right way?” Kaminari whispered, crouching as Sero had instructed him to do in order to avoid being caught on any of the secret base’s security cameras.

“Yeah,” Sero answered plainly, studying his handwritten blueprint of the base as he moved ever so quietly. “I’ve got everything marked down on here and there should be a back door around here…”

“It’s right there!” Kaminari gestured to the closed door just ahead of the pair. “Wait what if it’s locked?”

“You think a locked door is gonna be a problem for me?” Sero asked as they approached the door, turning the door handle to confirm it was in fact locked. He began picking the lock, which he did so with ease. He swung the door ajar slightly, confirming his confidence in his skills.

“You’re right. My bad,” Kaminari said with a firm nod. They peered into the room, which appeared to be empty except for a few black crates that were nailed shut. The boys entered the room, Sero closing the door behind them. Another door was in front of them and Sero repeated his actions and opened it slightly, peering inside carefully.

Kaminari leaned over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse. “Well is there anybody there?”

“Dude, we’re trying to be discreet,” Sero whispered to his friend, bringing a finger to his lips to remind Kaminari of the reason why they were there. Sero opened the door. “Looks like no one’s here.”

It was a small room with grey walls. Only a chair and a desk with multiple computer screens and monitors was present.

“Whoa looks like your place,” Kaminari commented, eyes widened at the amount of screens before him.

Sero immediately began to start working, sitting himself down at the chair and connecting a USB drive to the server.

“Are you copying all of the data now?” Kaminari questioned, clearly out of his league and element with this area of work.

“Yup. Once it’s done downloading it’ll wipe the servers completely,” Sero says, typing away at the keyboard in front of the main computer screen. “These losers won’t see it coming.”

“Won’t we now?” A voice erupted from behind Kaminari and Sero.

They whipped their heads to the source of the voice, Kaminari stepping away from the mysterious man. He was in all black with a hood covering his head. His scarlet eyes were piercing as they looked back and forth between Sero and Kaminari. He had a small amused smile on his face, his arms behind his back.

Sero stood up, blocking the USB drive. He had to ensure that they got away with this vital information. He was risking his life for it.

“Who the hell are you?” Sero questioned.

“Aw come on now. No need to be so rude,” Unknown chuckled humorlessly. “I should be asking that since you two broke into my facility.”

“We know you already know who we are,” Kaminari stated plainly. “Isn’t that why you went after our friends?”

“Oh, so the event coordinator is just a friend to you?” Unknown laughed.

Kaminari and Sero were taken aback. The only way for this mysterious man to have known about Kaminari’s feelings for Y/N was if…

“You’ve been reading our messages?!” Sero exclaimed in disbelief.

“Of course.” Unknown shrugged. “I mean I did trap your beloved coordinator in the office after all. Hacking into your chat rooms was nothing.”

His eyes flicked over to Kaminari. Unknown took in his figure, continuing to chuckle amusingly. “It’d be a shame if anything happened to you, Kaminari Denki. I was looking forward to your little love story. But it looks like the MFA love story will have to come to an end.”

Kaminari grabbed the drive from the server behind him and tossed it to Sero. “Run! Get outta here!”

“What?!” Sero exclaimed, catching the drive and looking at his friend as if he were a madman. Sero had no intention of leaving the base without Kaminari.

“Just go! We got the drive!” Kaminari pushed Sero towards the exit doors.

Unknown let go of his arms from behind his back, his hand clutching a knife as he lunged forward, a menacing grin on his face as he swung at Kaminari. He pierced Kaminari’s arm with the knife as Kaminari grabbed the chair and pushed it towards Unknown, knocking Unknown back to the floor.

Kaminari winced in pain, clutching his forearm that was gushing blood. But the adrenaline had kicked in and Kaminari couldn’t focus on the pain as he sprinted for the door, his blood dripping in splats onto the floors.

Unknown’s maniacal laughter echoed through the walls. “We’ll get you! You’ll join Paradise soon enough!”

JOIN THE TAGLIST

#kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari x y/n #denki x reader #denki x y/n #mha denki #my hero academia #bnha denki #denki kaminari #denki #bnha kaminari #kaminari #boku no hero academia #my hero academia imagines #bnha social media au #mystic messenger

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dietmountaindewbae · 1 year ago

Note

hiii i LOVE ur fics omg pls never stop writing,

could you maybe do something You-ish (the TV show "You") (idk if you've seen it but it's amazing) something stalker-ish? where alex is joe and reader is his, soon to be, gf (cuz he makes her) (any alex era) 💌

hope ur well🤍💋

xxiii. obsession

alex turner x reader

word count: 12626

summary: We ran into each other by chance or by fate, your clumsiness started something for me, something for us, and it's my duty to find out who you are. (the car! era) This story is written on Alex's narrative.

warnings: obsessions & rough s*x

song recommendation: tear you apart by she wants revenge

───── ୨୧ ─────

Ever since that day outside of a party, when you fell into my arms, drunk and loud, I had never felt so high, I had felt something the moment you smiled at me and flushed from the embarrassment, your eyes watery from the cold, your lips red full of blood, alcohol running fast through your veins, my heart falling from my mouth, you pulled away and hugged yourself, too embarrassed from what had happened, you thought it was too much booze, I thought it was meant to be, right place and right time. You just said "Sorry," I helped you to get back on your feet, our hands lightly graze and we lock in a stare, but then your mates dragged you across the street, they had dragged you away from me, like parents and their out-of-control kid, you waved goodbye at me, and all I could do was smile and wave goodbye to you, I was a fool, I didn't know what to say, it was one of those 'what would have happened?' moments when I ask myself, 'what if I had just said "It's ok, don't worry, love"' Icould vividly picture us walking down the street, going for some food because we were pissed, I would've kissed you, and asked for your number, then we could be dating, holding hands in the street, laughing at everything, hanging out with your stupid mates, if they hadn't been there and taken you away from me, I probably wouldn't have found meself, hiding behind the threes in the middle of a cold winter in LA, hoping to be in the warmth of your arms than out in the cold darkness of the street. I can't help to wonder if you ever think of me.

Your name and your last name stayed in a constant loop on my mind, one of your mates, the one with the light brown hair had screamed it as she found you falling into my arms, it would be stupid if I didn't look for you, right? You're gorgeous, you were nice and interesting, It would be weird if I didn't try to find your social media. It was easy to find you, I hate to admit how easy it is to find everything online these days, I found your Instagram and Facebook with just a few clicks on my computer, it's too easy it makes me laugh.

I scrolled through every single one of your posts on Facebook, you had a few, not many, everything was mainly about your little family trips and your sister's child, I made a note that you might just have Facebook out of pressure from your mother and sister since they always tag you in memes or those annoying TED Talk videos and you never answer, I found your mother's page, widowed, 49 years old, looks 45, she gave you her face, older sister, found her page too, married with a toddler, awfully bitter since she has to post where she is at all times, even if her child had taken a massive shit and had the looks of a giant worm, she would've posted it, I left the best for last. Your Instagram, no one these days uses Facebook.

Your Instagram was private but empty with not a single sight of you... so it's no use, what about your friends?... Hello you... I could hold on to these group pictures Larissa posted, thank you internet! Your friend group was small but they knew how to get around, only 4 people, two girls called Julie and Larissa, and Julie's boyfriend Luca, 5 if you counted me in, soon, luckily for me, Julie had an empty page, barely any pictures, just her and Luca but her profile was public but that lead me to find your other friend, Larissa had pictures of her face and some of you and Julie at pubs, very self-centered I suppose, Luca only posted about being a gym addict. I took a more personal approach, your sister Nina, who loves you very much, she had plenty of pictures of you. Thanksgiving was at your house, you looked gorgeous in those pictures, you wore a white dress with red flowers and black platforms, your long hair in beautiful waves, if any pervert were to see it, you would be such an easy victim with that long hair, but you're not, you're not so easy to hunt down in the dark. There was a picture of you and your sister's baby boy, sitting next to the three by a bay window, great. I took note of the stores, houses, and historical buildings nearby and then reality hit me as I took a cab on the way to your house.

Come on Alex, what are you doing? You look like a creep with your cap and coat in the middle of the night, It's only just a crush it'll go away, just like all the others. But you see? That's the problem with you, you're not, this is dangerous but I'll take my chances for you, I'm not obsessed with you, like I said, it's only just a crush. I hide behind some trees in front of your house on the other side of the street, and I contemplate this wonderful girl in her bedroom, going round and round with a book in her hands.

At night me head couldn't stop spinning, making all of these scenarios, about a girl who meets a stranger, and they fall madly in love in just a split second. I didn't need more, I could hold on to your light vanilla perfume and the softness of your hair, your lips, your collarbone, your shoulder, the curve of your breasts in the blouse you wore that night, I want to hold you close and kiss you hard.

For next few days I followed you around, I made you a time table, every morning at 5:30 you went for a run, and you finished off at home some with exercises you found on YouTube, you were visibly struggling, and that made me laugh but I felt bad for doing so, you worked hard, you finished around 6:30, you liked walking like a true new yorker, in your most sober looks, sometimes in a dress with a blue navy sweater on top of dresses , jeans, and a silky shirt, winter or no winter, you loved wearing tank tops, loved exposing even just a little bit of your body, even in the coldest days, your legs, your beautiful shoulders, a v-neck, mini skirts, checkered shorts or pants, and sexy patterned tights with colors like pastel blue, and even red to spice up your all black outfits, and you always wore that luscious and berry coloured lipstick on your lips, heels, motorcycle boots, ballerina flats, dresses, chunky sweaters, straight leg vintage jeans, coats, heels, shoulder bags, mini bags, but what a must was, something that never came off of you, your golden necklace, you're an everything girl, you dressed for the day, it told you exactly what to wear, even if you broke your pattern, you mostly dressed like Jane Birkin, jeans, white shirt, chunky purse, but you love leather, leather belts, leather jackets. Then you walk to your favorite café, and your drink depends on how tired you feel, black coffee for busy days or cappuccinos for the days you don't feel in a rush, then you take the metro, read a book and sip on your coffee while listening to your music, you are in college by 7:30, have 30 minutes to spare, but you're wise, and you use them organize yourself while you ease up with some music, I've never seen a longer playlist to be honest, there's a bit of everything there, you write your things in a red wine journal, I wonder what's in those little pink notes you stick on your notebook.

I made sure you got safely to your workplace after school at 4:00 pm, a bakery, you love talking to the people at the register as they ask you for your favorite dessert, and you always choose the same, tiramisu, rich coffee with some liquor, mascarpone carefully enveloped with delicious whipping cream, and a touch of cocoa sifted all over the tiramisu, and you juggle back and forward with doing school work, help in the kitchen, serve the costumers with a bright and friendly smile, you're tired and they don't pay you enough. And when you get home a 10 pm, you don't go to sleep, you stay up until you're finished but you never truly are, no matter how late or early, you can't sleep, why is that beautiful? Aren't your sheets made of the softest cotton? But I can see, that you are compromised to live in a city that never sleeps, you get ready for your next job at your nearest live jazz pub as a bartender, I'm very familiar with that type of job, you serve the customers with a kind smile as the music rocks you, you talk to other girls, and the artists flirt with you from time to time but you didn't submit, you knew better than that, you got paid well, the tips that fell on your back pocket from the nasty old men helped you to afford your apartment, barely making it to the next cut but you made it.

And every restless night when your mind couldn't stop thinking you went out to the nearest pub, and you made new friends, some men flirted with you until sadly, one night I had to watch you leave with one of them, he conquered your body before me, I wonder if you ever think of me in that way, a sexy stranger, that clouded your mind with ideas until you finally gave in. He did what he wanted to do, and when he left, you were still flushed and needy, that night I watched you hump your pillow with angst to get yourself off, a gorgeous picture to see, one that was engraved in my brain since then.

Every night when I crashed in my bed, and I prayed for this to go away but it continued to grow, I prayed for you to get out of me head, but your face, your smile, every curve of your body lived in me head, and if I don't something about it, you'll hunt me down forever.

I walked down the street on a Saturday night, It's been a week since we bumped into each other, discreetly searching for you with my eyes, until, I found you, in your West Village, street-level, white, vintage but modern apartment that might be hard for you to afford but you keep on paying it because the creepy landlord has a massive crush on you, he cannot fool me, I know what it's like.

You live in such a melancholic part of New York and also warm, old, and historic, it holds so many stories, and memories that's why it reminds you of home, like the baby pictures your mom posts, your living area illuminated with yellow lights from you mid-century lamps, like the sky in a beautiful afternoon, laying in your sette in a white tank top and panties, finally, you get to relax and enjoy yourself.

I could see the outline of your body through your thin linen white curtains, you were wearing vintage headphones connected to your record player, reading a book, Bukowski's 'Love Is A Dog From Hell' Yes, it must certainly is. Then suddenly you stood up, I'm certain you're barefoot, through a crack in the curtain I can see you're approaching the window, I could see the left side of your face, soft, round, cute little pointy nose, and your eyes, a sparkle in them as you stare into the sky, pink pouty lips, and a little beauty spot in your cheek, your phone in the ear, moving your lips with a smile as if you were talking to the person in the other line in real life. You nodded a couple of times and then you hung up, I saw the outline of your body, running towards your bedroom, what's got you in such a hurry? But before you forget, you turn up the music so loud the whole neighborhood can hear it, you choose something classic 'Bang Bang' by Nancy Sinatra, shoot me down, your linen curtain reflecting the light, and you take out your top in one move tossing it away, the outline of your naked beautiful body stretching had made me think so many things to do with it in less than a second, you pick your clothes with care, hanging them in front of your mirror, posing with the clothes on top of your body.

You sit somewhere in your room, and I can hardly see you, something about your magnetism draws me to you, so I stupidly cross the street and find shelter behind a three, but I get even more stupid as I get to see you doing your makeup in the mirror, your phone rings and your face goes blank, you answer and I see how your expressions change like the way flowers rot, gradually you get darker and darker, until... you break into tears putting an end to the call, and you push your phone away, you look into the mirror, and I see a tear roll down your cheek slowly, your face scrunched, and your cheeks reddened, you look at yourself in the mirror, all I can see is hate and rage, and then, you're cold as ice, not another tear rolls down your cheeks, you clean them up with a soft cotton pad and continue to apply makeup on your face, I wonder who has made you cry? even if it was just one small insignificant tear, whoever that was...they still made you cry.

Before you leave, you check yourself one last time, the dress you choose to wear was way better than the typical night outfits women wear these days, less ostentatious, you like dressing feminine, classic but modern, but not so pretty that you look like a little girl, you were more than pretty, you were hot, steaming, boiling, no man would approach you like that, and that was the sad truth for you but good news for both of us, not as any man would approach you, they had to have big balls to do so, baby doll dress, platforms, and a racer jacket, cute, stylish, edge, as always, you were sharp as a blade to the skin. Your hair is straight and it looks longer than when it's on your natural waves, and the wind blows perfectly on it, but that velvet red lipstick on your mouth might be the death of me.

You went outside, took a cab, and went out, I waved my arm, and soon enough a cab passed by.

"Where to?" The man said.

"Follow that cab in front of you," He took off, it was sad, drivers these days don't even care for men like this, the ones that just order to do something like that, there were a lot of crazy people here, and I had to protect you from them.

I see you being dropped off at a crowded pub, I hand a good amount of money to the man, and he drives off, I see you go inside, and you find your mates, I sit across from you, not too close so that you can see me but, but not so far so I don't hear you. You hug each one of them and you sit in the booth next to Julie.

"What's the occasion?" You said, next thing, Julie turns and shows a sparkling diamond on her finger, "Luke, Luke, Luke!" You teased her in awe, you held her hand carefully, examining it up close to the ring, "It's stunning" You said with a kind smile, it was amazing how I wished to be that hand, the one you caressed with care.

"I wanna do something big for the bachelorette, and I don't know where to start, I mean..." It must be hard for you, everyone around you is married or has a serious more than the 2-year relationship you can't hold on to, everyone has a kid now, everyone turns 27 and suddenly they already have a house, a child, and a loving husband, I wouldn't be like that ever, things won't be like that with me, I promise, we can take it as slow and calm as you want, or maybe go fast, I can go both ways, I just have to wait for the moment I may finally introduce myself to you, maybe by tomorrow when you go out but it must be soon before you forget about that last Saturday night, and it looks like you are in the process of, you are emptying those glasses of wine like coke in a hot summer day.

"Ease up with the wine," Larissa says, "You're gonna end up embarrassing yourself like the last time, you always have to pull a seen," Here we go.

"What fuckin' scene?" You spit back, "I was tired and I had been wearing high heels for more than 2 hours, yes, I was drunk but it was a genuine accident" You were annoyed, why could no one understand that? Accidents happen, and it must be hard for you to stand that pain, if I had stayed over, I would've given you a lovely massage, and treated you the way you're supposed to, I'm starting to be not very fond of Larissa.

"Uhu, yeah, but do you remember the last time you went to that party and got so drunk you "accidentally" confused a cigarette with marihuana and cried in the street like a baby?" Larissa, you just had to make it worse, didn't you?

"Fuck off, I can do whatever the fuck I want, if you don't want to believe me that's fine, oh!... and a scene, Larissa, a scene is what you pull when you yell at everyone as if you were the fucking owner of everything and everyone" You took your purse and rushed out, I see that Julie went out to get you, so I discreetly follow her, and find you waving your arm for a cab.

"Wait, don't go," Julie says with a caring tone, "I know you're not ok, you can't lie to me, you know how Lari is..."

"But why does she have to be a fuckin' news flasher of everything I do, embarrassing me in front of everyone, making me look like I'm not fun to be around," Julie tried to hug you but you wouldn't let her near.

"You say some scary shit while you're drunk, that's the only thing I'm going to agree on, but I can see you're not ok," Intuitive, honest, and kind, good choice for a friend.

"He called me" Julie sighs, who is he? This is the prize of being old fashioned, just like me, that's another thing I like about you, you have a life, even if you spend time alone, you go out in the world instead of taking a picture of it and expose your life, you have a little life, but it's yours and only yours.

"What did he want?" You shrugged and searched for something in your leather purse, taking a cigarette, and desperately flicking the lighter on.

"He just asked how I was, while he's off... modeling and possibly fucking two to three girls every single night, and he asks me how I am, drunk and high, he's so... he's-" To find the right words to describe that wanker only made me think about the damage he must have done to you, come on, spill the name, "That's not really everything, he's just-"

"Part of everything" Julie answered back, hugging you close to her, a caring hug, sweet, I could take a picture of it, I'm glad there is Julie for you, "Go home, and text me when you get there," She holds her arm up, taking a cab for you and sending you back home, I did the same thing as before, and the man did as he was told. But the problem was, you didn't go home, you went to a nearby liquor store and bought more wine for yourself, you drank it straight from the bag and you plugged in your wired earphones to your phone, kicking your feet and humming to the music 'New Dawn Fades' by Joy Division, a sad post-punk classic, you should be glad I am here to be on the look for you as you waddle in the steers, an easy target, if anyone dared to do anything to you, well, you must be glad there is me.

You walked a few blocks to your house, but you didn't go in, you couldn't hold yourself up anymore, so you sat by the staircase, defeated since you were desperately looking for your keys in your little purse, and you stared into the empty dark street, and you cried, you kept crying so hard it makes me feel the need to go and help you, I didn't really think about what I was doing, you were desperate, and I was afraid of letting you stay outside like that, then you stood up, unpredictable as always, I see you taking a fast pace. What are you thinking about? Did you forget something? You walk a few blocks until you stay still on a crowded street, the cars on that street go by faster, and you stare into the void as the red lights flash before you in straight lines, your cheeks stained with black tears, the darkness takes you in like one of their children, your head wrapped up in horrible ideas, so dark they blind your eyes, so atrocious your mind can only find one way to make you see the light at the end, you can't find peace, your body is tired, your eyebags are heavy, and you don't feel like yourself, you've lost control and you murmur something over and over again under your breath like some sort of sick prayer...

"A loaded gun won't set you free"

I see you take a step forward, now standing on the pavement, my heart drops to my stomach, and I run to get you, the wind blowing my cap away, what are you doing? why are you doing this? I can fix it, I can fix you, I can help you, I'll make it all disappear, before you take another step, the bus coming your way was out to get you, and you closed your eyes, but I won't let you go like that, my hand grasps your shoulder tightly, and I pull you to my arms, you're cold, shivering, your wired earphones fall from your head and get tangled in your hair.

"Are you alright?" Your face is wet with tears, and you look at me with big eyes, flushed again from the embarrassment, but that sparkle, that little fucking sparkle just makes me so mad, I'd kill for you to see me like that over and over, your little nose red, your eyelids a bit puffy.

You quickly wipe your tears, "Erm..." You sniffed, and you stared into my face with a cute and educated smile, "No... I mean, yes... sorry, I'm just... I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry," You scan my face, the familiarity of it makes a grin spread on your lips, "If I sound like a creep please stop me, but, I think I know you" Your lips curl into a bigger smile, as you realize who I am, I am that man, I am the man who will always be there for you, "You're that guy I fell into the other day" I pretend as if am amazed over who small the world is.

"Hey you," You said to me with a smile.

"Hello you" We both look to our feet, and I feel some warmth creeping up me cheeks, "We gotta stop meetin' like this" I see you flush, looking at me through your lashes, you slowly bite your bottom lip as you brush your hair out of the way, flirty. You struggle to untangle your earphones from your hair, I take a step forward and gently untangle them.

"You just had to come and rescue me again huh? Who are you? Superman?" I hear your voice, and your laughter like a melody I would love to hear over and over again, gentle, a little deep, but beautiful, I can see that behind all of that dark makeup and those dark looks, you're a sweet but lost little girl.

"I'm Batman" You're laughing and blushing at my jokes, that means that you like me.

"I like your accent batman" That's nice to hear, some people say that it sounds too rough and I sound like a scumbag, but I'm glad your ears enjoy the sound of it.

"Thanks, love" You take a step forward, your eyes looking at mine and then at my lips, it's hard to breathe right now.

"What are you doin' so late, huh? Are you wearing your costume?" You tease me, and we begin to walk together, to nowhere, just where we want this conversation to take us.

"Sort of, and you?" You shrugged, what a hard night you had. I'm worried about you, you didn't need to apologize for "not thinking", we kept walking until the smell of food dilated our nose trails.

"Just went for some drinks with a couple of friends nothing too exciting... do you mind if we stop for some food?" My fantasies had become real, you wanted to get some street pizza, the nice old man smiling at you tenderly, he's nice, not creepy, just a nice man, you ask for two slices of pepperoni with Italian sausage and the man is nice enough to give you the most fresh and warm slices of pizza, "Here, it's on me... it's the least I can do"

"Thank you" You chuckled and waved it off, gosh I wish I could just freeze this moment forever.

"I should be thanking you..." You wait to hear my name, and I stay silent contemplating this moment for a second, this is how it starts.

"Alex" You shake hands with me as your tongue, teeth, and lips articulate your name, you have a lovely name, and I'm crazy about you, "Charmed" I hold my gaze at you as you slowly let go of me hand.

"So, what were your plans for the night before I had completely crashed them" Funny, dark jokes, sarcasm, you're really smart but you don't like showing it off, you make me laugh so much, it's clear we have the same humor, that's another reason as to why you're perfect for me and I am for you.

"Um... I thought about going out somewhere, anywhere, sometimes I can't sleep... I'm afraid of losing life by being a slave of me work, me house, everythin' but I found something exciting" You smile to yourself, and you smile at me, you see? We're perfect.

"I do that sometimes... whenever I can't sleep, I go to a bar and you know... try to meet new people, I hate having to post about it on social media though, everyone has their screens glued to their faces, and I just don't like that, I don't wanna breathe my phone, I wanna breathe air" If I were you I would write a whole book about this, I love that you think just like that, we can be people for once, and run around the world and make it ours, "What do you do for a living?"

"Music producer" You smiled at me, "And I have the gift of guessing people's favorite artists,"

"Really? What are mine's?" I have the chance to look at you confidently, I see you like that, I can see how fast your heart is going, how you try to calm it with your breathing, your chest rising and falling fast, as I stare into your eyes intensely making little goosebumps crawl like spiders, I hope you know how much I like you.

"Nancy, Lana... and summat dark like Joy Division Unknown Pleasures" You clap and you're amazed at how exact I am, I can smell it on you.

"Exactly, I love them," You began to hum their songs, dancing on the street, I follow your lead, as you spin, "I was listening to it a few moments ago" You turn dark again, I'm not going to let you, I immediately regret ever saying that, I don't know what that bloody song did to you, but you were listening to it before you attempted to get crashed.

"I'm glad I was there" Sweeten up, tell me what's wrong, I'm here for you.

"Yeah... me too, I wasn't thinking straight..." You clean your throat, you cross your arms, and furrow you're eyebrows, it makes you angry to say it, makes you sad, makes you frustrated, and even so since you watch me patiently waiting for you to tell me what happened to you, I didn't have to say it, you already knew "I don't think you would like to hear about my problems Alex, they're meaningless"

"Nothin' is meaningless just like us meeting tonight perhaps..." Shite, I take it back, I can see your face looking at me weirdly, but you smiled, you're fascinated? Did you like that?

"You're right," You warm up to me, I can see it in your body, I can see it in your face, I've given you no reason to not trust me, I'm harmless, I told you you can trust me, "But I want a ciggy, if you don't mind" You lean against a brick wall, your leg supporting your weight, I'm in love with your smooth and shiny legs, what's your secret?

"Mind if I steal one?" You say no with your head, you check your box again, and you curse in your head. The box has only one cigarette left.

"Sharing it is" You light your cigarette with your pink lighter, I can see some cute puppy stickers on it, you inhale the thick white smoke and exhale it, your whole body relaxing, feeling lighter, you feel calm, and you hand it to me, holding it between your index and your middle, you have a vintage silver rose ring in your middle, cracked red nail polish, and the cigarette butt was stained with your gorgeous red lipstick, I take it in between my lips, your lipstick tastes sweet like marshmallows, I savor it, Jesus, I hope I can taste your pretty lips soon.

"Talk to me," You sigh, and your mouth articulates each phrase, your voice tired and sad, I hear every detail of your story with care, a girl that can't control her alcohol, one that just wants to have fun, one that makes stupid mistakes but learns, I see beauty not only out but inside you, in your mistakes, in your intentions, in your life, you only got one, and you've made noble mistakes, I can see you're a whole woman, a hot and determined woman, but you have no road clear enough, no road to pick, you're chasing something you don't even know what it is.

"So now, I'm just trying to see what happens, I'm getting my degree soon, and then I'll keep working, maybe I'll start something on my own" Maybe if you don't love your work, at least you can come home back to me, I'll cook dinner, I'll wash your clothes, I'll set the table, I'll prep you a warm bath, I'll shower you, you won't move a single finger when you come home to me, "How's working as a music producer?"

"Oh, well, it's great... sometimes we have our differences but most of the time I just do what people tell me to do, in secret I make their music better, sometimes they don't notice and they just brag about how amazing was their idea" Your cigarette burns away into my fingers, I set it off into the wall and discreetly put it inside my pocket, you change the direction, we're going back, you're shamelessly eying me up and down, I swear if you don't stop...

"What are your favorite bands?" You're changing the subject, I don't like that, I don't like that you don't want to talk about what you've told me, but I keep you interested.

"Well... an old-time favorite is The Strokes" I answer firmly, you take out from your purse your earphones, plug them into your phone, and press play on the music as we walk together sharing your music, 'Call It Fate Call It Karma' on full volume.

"Might be basic for you, but I don't see a better song for this moment" You turn to face me, and we stop in the dark corner of the sidewalk, your eyes greedy and precious, that bloody spark in your dark eyes excites me, it's all in your eyes, I can see it clearly, I can see what you want from me, you blink slowly and wait for me to make the next move, and I don't doubt for a second, I close the space between us, and very gently press the palm of my hand to your warm cheek, it's warm and pink, staring into your eyes like stars in the black sky, kissing your lips, sweet as burned marshmallows in a bonfire night, you kiss me so softly at first, but you make that animal inside me come alive, I'm a man, I'm an animal, and I kiss your tender lips hungrily, I didn't expect for you to answer back with the same hunger, you feed me with your kiss, and your breath tastes like ecstasy, I'm a junkie, sweet sweet nicotine, I'm a chain smoker, "Take me home, Alex..."

"I'll take you anywhere you tell me, sweetheart" You grab my hand, fingers intertwined, and I feel 15 again, my palms are sweaty, my sweat is cold, and I feel so warm in my clothes, I can't wait to take them off, the anticipation getting the best of me, you make my dreams come true, and I'm so happy the world had chosen you to fall into my arms. I'm your protector, a guardian angel.

On the way home, we sneak to share some angsty kisses three or more times, you're getting me worked up, letting me touch you, grasping your hips, biting my lip, kissing my cheek, moaning my name into my lips, you're making my head spin. We walk up the stairs together, opening the door to your shelter, you have a lovely house, so clean that some things are allowed to be misplaced, it's big because you don't like having so many things out, your bed is on the other side of the wall were you living area is, the vague familiarity of it makes me feel like I'm imagining it all.

"This my girl cave, my crib" You joke, I take pictures of it in my head from bottom to top, every single inch, every place I imagine us being in, watching tele, cooking together, making a mess of the kitchen of course, dancing, fucking, scratching your wooden countertop, "What do you think?"

"It's-" We both get freaked out by the knocks at your door, some dickhead calling out your name, begging you to open the door, you roll your eyes, you know exactly who he is.

You swing open the door, cross your arms, and stand your ground, marking that he's not welcome here, you're strong, you're determined, go you! Show some teeth, "I don't wanna hear another one of your crazy fucking stories, tell them to your mother, Cameron" You were about to shut the door in his face but he stops it with his foot, that must've hurt Cameron, that's your ex isn't he? The one who made you cry, "Leave" You spit.

"I won't, you can't possibly ask for something like that... you and I know there's no one better than me, no better match than us" You stay silent, why are you thinking? why are you second-guessing? He takes a step forward, he's getting closer, you're face is a frown, you don't want him to touch you even though he keeps trying.

"I don't want you here, you must leave now Cameron, I want you out" He turns into hysteric laughter, he thinks you're crazy, he thinks you've lost your mind, well big shot, you're not it, Cameron only wants to hurt you with his words, he wants to make the most damage, he gets off at this, making you his only real standard, but Cameron will never treat you like you must be treated.

"Don't talk me to like that" I take his aggressiveness as a sign to take a step in, who the fuck does this wanker think he is to talk to you like that? You see that's a real scumbag, and I'll be his worst nightmare.

"Like what?" I come up from the back, cocky, sounding like a total prick, and I can see that you love it, when I sound like this, dominant, confident, "She's telling you to go, I'm telling you to fuck off. Now" I slam my voice at him, there are scary people in this world, there are men like Cameron, he has an intense gaze, but he wouldn't ever pick up a fight for anyone, yes... not even you, he's too vain, a narcissist, he is all bark but no bite, and then there are the men who would move mountains for their loved ones, he steps away, and I shut the door close, I can feel you shivering beneath my skin.

You stare at me, and I drag you in closer, that's what you like... you liked to be treated rough, you like being needed, I push your hips against mine, I can see it in your face, you've felt it, you've felt how hard my cock is, and it's hurting so fucking bad now, I can't wait for another second, I can't wait to take you to bed, you jump on me, wrapping your gorgeous soft legs on me, I decide to leave the first reminder of me on your kitchen table, laying your body on top of the cold wooden countertop for the first reminder of me and the things I'm about to do to you, my knuckles pull down your panties, ripping them off from your skin, your pussy glistening, bathed in your wetness, I can smell your flesh from the distance, like a predator and their victim, I'm a lion, "I'm gonna fuckin' tear you apart"

"Fuuuckin' please" You moan so loudly I bet it could be heard from across the street, and your voice shivers, I've barely even touched you yet, and you're already so wet for me, what are you thinking about? what's in your mind? I wish I could crack your skull open.

I lower myself in between your legs, I've been so busy admiring your body, the scent of the almond oil you rub on your smooth legs, I bet that you shaved them today, and I wonder what else have you shaved, your dress rides to your hips as you contortion under my touch, Jesus, you're desperate for it, but no, I want to enjoy you.

"Calm the fuck down, lay still and close your eyes" I order, and you stiffen up, staying quiet, and still, "Atta girl", I can finally see what's in between your gorgeous long legs, a pink and small pussy, Jesus, I bet you're so fucking tight by the looks of it, my ring and middle finger begin their assault, pressing down vertically against your clit, you hum and your hips writhe against me fingers, slowly, pushing them, you like that, rubbing yourself against them, and when I see you through the glass I lose my mind, I see how me fingers get coated and damped in your wetness, and I love watching you get so worked up by that, I can feel me cock just getting harder by the second, it's hurting and it's a pulsing pain, but I bare with it just for you, because now I'm going to show you how exactly you're supposed to get fucked.

I spread open your pussy, pink and warm, swollen clit I pinch in between me fingers, and you hiss but you only get wetter, if I pinched for a little longer you were sure coming all over the table. I open me mouth to taste your warm and savory juices, I suck and kiss your clit, picking up with my tongue your wetness, you're going to cum so good, I can feel it building up, you're in for a ride, and you've just begun to climb up the roller coaster.

"Oh... that's soo good" You gasp and sigh, I let my two fingers twist inside your pussy, me knuckles rimming your walls slowly, the bumpy and hard skin of my fingers make you gently fuck yourself into them, while I watch you with my tongue lapping over your clit teasingly, just those gentle touches make your legs shake, and your walls to contract, you're wonderful, you behave well, your hands slowly crawling into me hair, pulling it gently, your little whimpers get me worked up and I have to put in the biggest effort to not palm meself, I want you to feel every inch of me.

"You feel so lovely, babe doll" This feels so right, you bite on my lower lip, pulling my flesh until it bleeds. You're a sucker for my accent, you really are, you enjoy hearing me voice, doesn't it relax you? Doesn't it turn you on? I want to know what it is... I want to feel what it is, your legs keep shaking and your body keeps getting stiffer, your lower abdomen making pressure, and your walls are closing around me fingers, I shake them inside you, your mouth falls open, my lips sucking your clit harder and your body arches until I feel your cunt losing up, feeling your release leaking out of that tiny little hole, I'm eager to taste it, I eat your pussy eagerly, you know I'm hungry for it, my mouth eating your pussy like a soft and warm bun, and you taste just as sweet, just as good as I imagined, I won't let you rest, I will keep you on the limit. I drag you forward, making you kiss me lips, "Do you taste that? Taste how sweet you are... taste how good I ate you"

"And you're gonna fuck me just as good?" Your hand sneaks in between me legs, you love how hard my dick is for you, it makes you feel so thrilled, makes you feel good about yourself, and it makes you feel hot.

"You'll just have to wait a little bit longer, I'm not done with you" I'm certain about something, you're a kinky little shit, and I know you want something like this, I bend you over the kitchen table, and you're just ready for it, arching your back, spreading your legs, you're not putting a fight, my hand kneads your ass like dough, and spanks it hard over and over again, "You precious little thing, are you going to do everything I tell you to do?"

"No" You state firmly, earning another smack in your ass.

"Tell me summat..." I push my hips against your dripping wet cunt, that's oozing for another smack, "How much do you want it?" You sigh, rubbing your ass against my cock, you're killing me, you better stop now, the friction, the warmth, your goddamn smell, "Answer me you fuckin' cunt" You giggle, you do love it.

"I want you so bad" You whisper, no, I don't like that.

"Not enough" The smacks you earn are getting harder to bear, but you enjoy them, and so do I, you masochistic little shit.

"I need you inside me, Alex... I can't wait any longer" You rock your hips against mine, humping your naked pussy against my bulge, "Please..." You whimper so sweetly, I can't handle it any longer, I take off your dress, and you're wearing nothing but your tall black heels, looking like a fuckin' hooker, but I bet that's what you like.

"You want it you fucking slut?" You keep whimpering and rubbing yourself on me jeans, I bet that you've stained them already, "Come here" I turn you around and kiss you deeply, I can feel your hands unbuttoning my shirt as fast as you can, even in the heat of the moment you don't break my shirt but I couldn't care less, I take your hands and make fists ripping it apart and throwing it away, you're even faster to take out my jeans and leaving me on my boxers, that's the one good thing about me, I can see how your eyes lit up as you see how hard me fat cock is for you, you bite your lower lip and I pull you back up from your knees.

Time for reminder number two, the settee, I pull you up, and you sit in my arm until I put you back to the ground gently, I have to let you know that I was here, I need you to know how good I am, no other man could please you like that, I pull your leg up while you hold yourself up with the other, your pussy is so fucking wet my cock slides inside you so easily, I can feel the electric shocks that run all over your body, "Hard, please" You whine, I'm going to show you what hard actually is.

My hips thrust inside you so roughly the settee moves out of place, your nails dig into the cushions as I keep railing your tight hole harder, and you scream like bloody murder, I hope your neighbors don't call the police, I hope they can see how hard you're getting your cunt fucked, I want everyone that walks by to hear you, "You wanted hard babe!" You moan and scream, and keep getting your pussy pounded like meat being beaten up to get it tender. I dig your head into the pillows.

"Don't... d-don't-" Don't what?

"I can't understand you, babe, can you repeat that for me?" You pant trying to catch your breath, and your legs are numbing up, and I can see they've lost some strength, "Do you want me to stop, because I can" As I saw you didn't make a move, I began to pull out but you stopped, digging your nails into my wrist.

"Don't stop for fucks sake" Now for the next one, I stay buried inside you like that, you keep trying to fuck yourself into me cock but I just won't allow it, I pick you up once more, and your legs around my torso, and you press your warm chest against mine, I lean back against the giant bookshelf next to your bedroom door, you hold on into the shelves for leverage while I drive my cock inside you, your pussy feels so tight I wish I could let this last forever, I'll make that pussy mine.

"You want more, babe?" You hum and gasp, yes of course you do, you're loving every single inch of me cock, "God you look so beautiful with your mouth opened like that," I lick your bottom lip, "And that little cunt of yours is so wet for me, you're just making things harder for me..." I pushed meself too hard inside you, the shelf shook, and something hard dropped to the ground but you ignored it, you've lost yourself in my touch, and I feel embarrassed for dropping something. Your inner animal wakes up as I throw you into your bed.

I crawl on top of you but you gather up your strength to flip me over, I didn't expect that, you've taken the lead and I want to see you lose control, you writhe your hips into mine, your eyes facing the roof, and your mouth wide open, your hair falling into your head, you looked possessed, but you had lost the power to think about what you were doing, "For fucks sake" If you keep moving like that, you're going to make this end sooner, and I've already planned everything out, I try to sit up but you hold me down, chocking me so hard that it's almost impossible to breathe for me, but I love that feeling, my head feels light, my vision is blurry, but I'm not going to give in to you, I already have, you have got to give into me.

I flip you over so harshly, your head almost slammed against your headboard, "Listen to me you fuckin' cunt" My harsh tone makes your core shake, "You ain't the one on command, now... I don't wanna repeat meself" It's arousing you, I can feel it in between your legs, you're shamelessly getting wetter, "Don't make me repeat meself again" You love to play with me, I see that naughty little smile curling into your lips.

"You already did" You like to pull on my hair, don't you? And you will pay for that.

"Don't fuck with me" Your eyebrows push together and your little smirk makes me go mad.

"You know I love to" Love? You "love to"? Does this mean that you might love me? Even just a tiny bit?

"You do, huh?" I begin to rock my hips against yours, slowly, passionately, like a slow and steaming dance, I see your fingers grasping the sheets making hard fists, "You don't know what you've gotten yourself into" And I'm not lying, you really don't.

"Show me Alex" You whisper to me those three words so sexily, charmingly, I've already lost my mind.

"I'll show you how a real man fucks you, babe," Your oozing with the thrill, "I'll show you how to behave... you little fuckin' cunt" Your mouth opens to moan and I take advantage of it to spit inside your mouth, both my hands chocking you, "You're mine... all mine"

"I'd love to" You whimper, "Make me yours please... please just do, I want you Alex" You keep asking me that with your little weak voice, your body that speaks to me, I can read it so easily, it tells me that I'm doing exactly what you want me to do, it shivers, and it quivers, and it sweats, it screams, it tightens, it stiffens, in your eyes I can feel your fast heartbeat in my fingers, and it goes just as fast as mine, my body against yours sounds like I'm butchering you, your neighbors must think I'm holding a knife against your throat, but it does go as deep, it does penetrate and it hurts you in the most magnificently and pleasingly way, your eyes red shot, and your voice gets quieter, shit, I'm losing you, I am.

"Wake up, wake up!" I scream to you, my hand patting your cheek lightly, your pulse is barely detectable, I slap you across your face and you gain back consciousness in the blink of an eye, I didn't want to do it, I would never do that, but when your lips curl into your devilish smile, I know see how you really are.

"Do that again Al" You tease me, I love it when you call me like that, no one ever really does that anymore, is that my new nickname? Al? You're going to remember me forever babe, I hope you do, and tomorrow when you wake up, I'm still going to be there, I'll make your breakfast, and I'll do anything you ask me to do, even dishes, you won't pick them up.

"You're mad, woman" You giggle, and you try to pick yourself up, I can't let you, I did knock you over completely, my hand very gently caresses your cheeks, it's red and fragile, it must burn or at least sting, "Let me do the kissing for now, babe"

"And the fucking too perhaps?" You smile at me, your cute little button nose is flushed, your cheeks and chest are red, your nipples are hard, it turned you on to this point, you're dark, what else are you not telling me? "I'm crazy about you" Those words will echo in my head for the rest of my days.

I take no rush into fucking you, I'm not just a guy you'll sleep with, I'm your man, and I wanted to make sweet sweet love to you, but you won't let me, you like it rough, hard, fast, I don't want this moment to be over, at least not for me yet, you can cum as many times as you like, and like the real man I am, I am profoundly true to the saying 'Happy wife, happy life'

I hug you close to me, that's the least I can do, if I'm going to lose control, let my heart tell yours how much I love you, even if you dump me like a puppy, I'll stay loyal, I'll follow your scent everywhere, I will forever remember the scent of your vanilla hair, your Dior perfume, and the golden necklace around your neck, I counted 15 moles on your body, even the one in between your legs, my hands grab your hair into fists as I pound you harder and harder, you're losing your mind and I'm losing control again, your bed squeaks so loudly and the headboards slams against the wall so harshly, but I don't stop I can't stop now, I can feel you, I can feel it coming, you bring yourself to an end again, the palm of my hand slowly adds pressure on your lower belly, to ease you up, the bed keeps squeaking so annoyingly, and even after we ignored the several warnings, the legs of your bed broke and your headboard fell to the ground, we both break into laughter.

"Oh God!" Your little laughter is so bubbly and funny, it makes me smile and feel so ashamed at the same time.

"I'm so sorry, I'll pay for that" You rub the tip of your little nose against mine, and look at me tenderly, your fingers caressing the back of my head, if only you could see the hearts in my eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous... you know, I've never broken a bed before... you're not going to be easy to forget batman, I hope you don't disappear into the night soon" I'll get you off first, but there's one thing you should be certain of.

"I never intended to" Was that too much? Sorry if that was too much, maybe it was... maybe it wasn't, I'm having a hard time reading your face right now, you're looking at me very seriously, I don't want to get my hopes up, but you're killing me, I should focus now, finish the deed, "But I'm still sorry about your bed though"

"Shut the fuck up, and keep fucking me" Whatever she wants, whatever she wants... You're already the song on the radio I got stuck in me head.

I pull us closer to the safest edge of your bed, toss your legs over me shoulders, and bend them over, I lean over and pound the living shit out of you, I was balls deep inside you, and you like it, so much that you dig your nails into my back, scratching my skin until red and bloody, I don't care how much it hurts, leave as many marks as you want, the deeper the better, my hair falls over my forehead and you make the kindest gesture, your brush it back with your long nails, even if by now I'm sweating like a pig you keep bringing me closer to you, I can feel the light tingles of you breathing in me face, of you biting down on my golden chain making laugh, making me go insane, I keep pushing harder, and you throw your head back, almost letting go of me, but I won't let you, I'll send you to heaven if you want, but don't leave without me.

"Oh, Alex... I'm so close, please..." Your eyeballs turn into beautiful glossy pearls, and you crumble down into pieces as you coat my cock in your warm release, I can feel your walls pushing it out and running down your cozy hole, I stay buried inside you, watching your mouth fall open and choke out your last orgasms, they spin in my head like a tiny little music box, "You're next, Alex... you can't end things like that... you know how much I want it, you already did so much for me" Wait, what are you doing?

Your hands run up my chest, and you massage my shoulders, "You really want me to breed you, you greedy little fuck?" Your hands go down and you massage my balls, Jesus, you really do, I bet you're not even aware of what you're doing to me... or are you?

"Yes Alex, use it... use me" You know exactly what you're doing, I drag my cock out just rimming your walls once again, I better start warming you up, but you don't want that now, you're thinking about me, about what I want, you deserve a little star on your forehead for being so caring, a man and its needs, it's nothing compared to your needs, and I bet you needed someone to get you off correctly.

"You're mine... I want you to say it" I promised to you since the beginning, I won't stop until you're mine, "Are you mine?" I look at you with my big eyes full of hope for you to say it, please tell me now.

"I'm yours Alex" My lips taste your mouth, your tongue dancing with mine. You're made of the sweetest poison

God, I remember that time I was watching through your window, that night you were laying down on your settee, your hand was vigorously and shamelessly rubbing your clit in circles, fucking your little cunt with two fingers, rocking yourself into your touch with the desperate need to rub yourself against something hard, just like you were rubbing yourself against me hard cock. You keep squeezing my balls, your hands sneak into my ass squeezing it gently to keep me going, you love having me right at the edge of ending it all, I can't keep it up for another moment anymore, you're big stary eyes, your little sparkles, your touches, the smell, the noises, you're begging for me cum, I slam my fist next to your head, dragging your body up as I push myself deep inside you and coat your walls in me creamy cum, you're pure bliss as I feel us both coming together, a gorgeous after bliss surrounding us, you have this certain smell, a certain heat, and you're just so beautiful with your cheeks flushed like that.

"Let me clean you up, it's me mess, just lay down" You nod your head, laying gently on your broken bed to not let it crash completely into the ground, you point your finger telling me where the toilet is, and I rush there to grab a few paper towels and clean your skin softly, soothingly, I can feel you relaxing, I can smell my body in yours, the smell of my cologne, your almond oil, and your pheromones. And when I'm done you grab my hand and I can see you thanking me for even that tiny gesture, that's nothing you should be thanking me for, that's the least.

"Now the question is... where are we going to sleep?" We? You want me to sleep here, with you? You're not quicking me out, or at least not yet, this is my chance and I would be lying if I didn't say I was the luckiest man alive.

"Maybe the settee would be a nice place" Your gorgeous olive green settee, corduroy, soft, and marked, I can see you smiling at the space in between your two cushions, I see your giant ivory bookshelf, another mark. I lean forward to pick up what I had dropped when we assaulted the shelf, but it wasn't one of the thousands of vinyl records you've got organized by letter, it's a case... a guitar case. I didn't know that about you. Tonight made me realize that you're a hat full of surprises, the deeper I search the more I find.

"Want some food?... I've got some nuggets and fries... and-" You close your fridge and turn to look at me, "Oh, you know how to play?" I nod my head, trying to stay as noble and humble, you smack your hand into your forehead, "Of course, you do," You sigh and I can hear you whispering to yourself, "Stupid question"

"And do you?" You hum as a yes, interesting, I bet you do, but why do you hide your guitar like that? As if it was buried in this beautiful world with music, colors, words, and meanings.

"I did..." You turn on your air frier and toss some nuggets and fries in there, I'm so happy that you're not like one of those crazy keto girls, you pour us some fresh orange juice as you keep talking to me, "But you know, my mom always told me 'that's just a hobby', and when I moved here I hoped to find some people that wanted to share this fire to try to make some music... but I never managed to, and then I just gave up"

"That's a bit sad, love... you shouldn't have" You lean over the kitchen countertop, amazing reminder, I see you smiling over the edge of your shoulder, but you turn to look at me as you pick up some of our clothes, and then you run into my shirt and you decided to wear it as your sex shirt, you look beautiful, "I mean, being a music producer and making it was hard, but it was even harder to follow something I'm not passionate about" That's what's wrong, you didn't follow your passion, that's what you're missing, "Have you got any songs?" Your face lights up but it quickly slips away, and the redness crawls into your face, What? I'm trying to help you, I want you to be happy with me and with your life.

"I can't accept that" You quickly answered, your head said no but I know you want this, it's served on a silver platter, why can't you let your reserved self accept this?

"Accept what? I haven't said anything, I just asked if you could sing for me... I know you have a lovely voice" You laugh sarcastically at me, leaning over to fetch your guitar, and searching for a notebook on your vinyl shelf.

You sit next to me, legs crossed, guitar on your lap, naked with just my shirt on, your knees holding your notebook as you search for the perfect page for me, you make sure that your guitar is tuned before you start and your thumb softly strums down the notes, making a lovely rhythm, and only two chords, C and Em, your voice sounds like a million angels, and I feel like a lost man after serving the purgatory, your voice is so hauntingly beautiful, your lyrics are very forward, and I'm happy to know through your lyrics how truly you feel about things, you don't search for big words you choose the right ones, you're bold, and you're wise, you try to put an end to your complicated feelings, your questions, everything, all in one song with a few strums and two simple chords.

"That's all," You say putting your guitar next to you, I'm blown away, "I know I suck"

"No!" I answer immediately, "You don't... I think it's beautiful"

"You're just saying that because..." No, I'm not just saying that because I want to fuck you, no not at all, don't you ever believe that.

"I'm saying that because I think you've got it, and you don't want to quit everything to live your dream, I know it must be difficult... but I'm being truthful, you've got summat and we can work on it" Why do you keep saying no with your head? Stop that, if I could rip it off right now... no, don't think that, "Come on, I'm not takin' a piss" You break into laughter with me, throwing your head back, you jump up the moment your oven dings and you run to flip the nuggets and the fries, putting 10 more minutes into the oven.

"Takin' a piss" You laugh to yourself, "Well, if you're not takin' a piss" You imitate my accent and it sounds so silly when you try to do it, "I'm not accepting your help Alex, you have your own thing, and if I'm going to do this, I have to do it on my own," Perfect, I'll take that.

"Why don't you go to Panda's next Saturday? They're looking for some people to play some music, any style, any theme, you can do whatever you want... I'm sure everyone will love you, and you know, there's always someone on the hunt for summat fresh!" I see you thinking about it, I'm not saying I'll help you, I'm just offering the start of something great for you, this is it for you. And yes, I am going to get you the best deal you could ever imagine, but first I have to run things through your notebook, I secretly hide your baby pink notebook, your initials written with a black sharpie, and I stash it in between the cushions.

"I'll think about it" I'll think about it. I hope you do go, I can't wait to see you singing for everyone, you will charm them, "Dinner is served me lord" You're also a dork, just like me, imagine all of the jokes we can make together, they'll be endless.

"My! Thank you, very kind" Dinousor nuggets with a side of fries, the melancholic feeling of your childhood must be present every single day, you squeeze some Ketchup into my plate, squirting into my chest.

"Whoops! Let me clean that for you" You lean in, sticking out your tongue to lick off the ketchup from my chest, "Eat up!" I'm in love with you, "And then we'll get on with that" You look down, and I do the same, shite, look what you do to me, you make me get so hard like a little boy hitting puberty.

"Bugger" I whisper under my breath, you heard it since you giggled, "You know, I think the food can wait right?" You push your plate away and you immediately crawl on top of me, kissing my lips so tenderly, caressing my chin with your fingers, and enjoying the texture of the little hairs that are growing on me cheeks.

"Mmm ketchup" You laugh into the kiss, and our teeth collide accidentally, and us by casualty, "You taste yummy"

"Imagine yourself" You blush hard, something tells me no one has ever made you feel that good about yourself, and that's because no one will see you with the same eyes as me, you're my girl, you will be, I try to flip you but instead you stop me, have I done something wrong?

"We're not going to break this couch, I love this fucking couch, you understand that?" You firmly said, your eyes threatening to kill me if I do as such, "I'm on top" I squeeze your ass tightly biting my bottom lip.

"Whatever she wants... but if I broke the bed it's 90% your fault," You scoffed and laughed as I peeled my shirt from your body gently, making sure I don't break more buttons so you could keep it, "Because you feel so good, and maybe you could be on top, but I know sooner or later... you'll be the one giving into me" Quite intense, wasn't I? Fuck!

"But for now, it's me who calls the shots, so if we break this... it will be 98% your fault, how do you like me now, smarty?" You secure your arms around my shoulder, I pull you in, chest on chest, as I give myself a few more strokes before you slowly slide down my cock, moaning so gently, I like feeling every part of you, I can see how your body twists and shivers when I hit that sweet spot.

"How do you like that?" I rub it in your face, how good I'm making you feel, "I guess one round just wasn't quite enough for you," You start humping on my cock slowly, you're just teasing me again, but I enjoy feeling your body move against mine, your little cries and moans, everything piles up in me, I know this time I'll enjoy you, picture you going in slow motion, I can feel your rapid heartbeat, I can feel the heat wave that raises and wrap us in, I can feel your body begging to mine to stay as close as possible, because that's what your body and my body want, we smile, we laugh, and I fall deeper in a hole full of love for you, and I'm no donkey to use the dirt to get out, I rather stay buried deep inside you just like now. Your body is tired, it's been two hours since your legs worked for the last time, and you beg for more into my ear.

"You're so good, I-I don't understand" What don't you understand, babe? Your fingers intertwine in the back of my head, as you writhe your hips to mine, our bodies dancing together so wonderfully, your hips move in circles against mine.

"Neither of those assholes could ever come close to me, I'm a real man..."

"And you've got the size" You flirt with me so shamelessly, your walls keep dragging me in, your head falls into my shoulder, you're giving into me, fading into me, and it's me time now, I finally get to give you what I wanted since the beginning, make sweet and honest love to you, my hands on your thighs I keep driving your body against mine, I gently bounce you on me lap just to get you to stay up again, you're eyes are shutting, your mouth is falling open again.

"Look at me" I order, and you do what I tell you to do, you look at me towards your end, I hope you can read it in my eyes, I hope you can feel how warm the flesh is, how my eyes, my brain, and heart have no space for anyone else but you, how mad you've made me, I'm obsessed, and I'm not going to lie to myself about it anymore, I don't want to just use you, I hope you can see that, but if you can't, I hope this is enough for you to understand it, my eyes big and dilated for you, my body feels so stiff, it's overwhelming, "You're so beautiful, love"

"If you keep calling me that, you're gonna make me fall in love, Alex"

So I'll say it every single day for the rest of my life, you feel so good on me, your body fits into mine so perfectly, and I'm so close, and so are you, the flesh is tender, the flowers bloom, the sun rises and it's heat rains all over the world, and you and I bond together for one last time before your body crashes into mine, I make a mess, but that's a bit on purpose, "Ah, yes" You sigh into my ear as you let it rest on top of mine. I have the chance to clean your body once more, to clean you up with care and love, my touch is so gentle your body fills with goosebumps, "You really don't have to Alex" You put your hand on my hand, and I freeze, should I stop? Am I making you uncomfortable?

"Sorry... if I'm doing too much" Your eyebrows push together and before I can get away you drag me back by my wrist and smile at me. What do you think of me?

"No, I'm just..." You sigh, you're troubled by your thoughts, "Not used to the 'aftercare' part that's all, you know, sex for us girls... it's not like we see it in films, or read in books, maybe I don't have that magic to turn a beast into a prince, and... I just I dunno, I don't feel weird... you make me feel special, normally, they just leave" Are you... maybe falling for me?

I smile at you, my thumb grazes your cheek softly, "I'm a man, and I'm messy but I just don't like doing that there's an attraction, and if we have sex, unless you ask me to leave I'll leave" I put away the paper towels in the trash, and when I come back I find you waiting for me with my shirt on your body.

"Well, if that's the case" My heart pumps one thousand miles per hour, I feel I'm entering a trance, about to puke my intestines out if you ask me to leave, "You don't mind staying?"

Fuck yeah! "Not at all" I try to keep me cool but I just can't, my heart betraying as I lay down with you.

After we finally had the chance to close our eyes, the sun peeks through the curtains of your windows, the sky painted orange and ocean blue, you smile at me, and you get back up from our little love nest that was the settee, you're quick to find the vinyl with the song we were listening together, the song we kissed to, the perfect song to watch the sunrise.

"Come with me!" I've never heard you so excited before, you run to the kitchen and fetch my boxers from the ground, and I'm a bit troubled by the thought of me wearing my jeans with no underwear but I do nevertheless because I would kill to see you like that every single day.

I cover my body with my coat, and you grab my hand, we run out of your house, and we go through this tiny little white gate, into a garden covered in green chasmophyte, that's the place where the flowers bloom in little boxes of dirt, the perfect place to see the sun, the perfect place to hide, to dream in, it's wonderful, you pull out a chair for me in this old rusty table, you find place to put your music and we listen to Call It Fate Call It Karma as the sun rises from the horizon, I pull you to my lap, wrapping your legs around my arms and hum the song to your ear, the birds are chirping, and the sun warms us from the once oh so cold night.

"You're a lovely singer," You say to my ear, I was never one to watch sunrises, I haven't done that since I was 17, and now with my busy life, I finally get to taste this little piece of paradise that you've given me.

"Not as good as you, bunny" You kiss my nose with a big smile, and I take out from my jeans a box of cigarettes and my old zippo, you set on my smoke, and you love to play with my zippo as your hands run through my naked skin, you love playing with fire, don't you? I just hope someday, you don't get burned in the fire of my love.

A/N

Anon, I want to kiss you. You don't know for how long I've been trying to figure out how to write this chapter, I had to watch You again but it was totally worth it, so thank you!

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