#it never makes me not laugh that Percy got that position in a fucking week

[talas-starlight]

Lover - Percy Jackson x Fem!reader

SUMMARY: You’ve crushed on Percy for years, him on the other hand? It’s more of a recent development. That doesn’t mean he likes you any less.

(Older Percy & reader - they're like 21) ALSO idk perfectly what happens in trials of apollo so let’s just ✨ignore that ✨ & this isn’t sexual despite what the title may suggest

WORD COUNT: 2.7k

A/N: hi friends this is for @fromthewatertribe​ ‘s 1k follower event!! Im sure most of you have but if not definitely check out their work!! Its soooo good I promises and ugh their Leo fic?! *chefs kiss* anyway idk if this is any good oop I tried

PROMPTS USED: 9 & 11. (they’re bolded)

WARNINGS: swearing, mentions of ptsd & anxiety, kissing stuff lol ish eh idk, mentions of percabeth breakup?? Does that count?

MASTERLIST: here!

An obnoxiously red and orange light filters into the motel room, even with the old and tattered curtains closed, the motels’ sign conquers its way through the fabric. Sighing you flop yourself on the faded, probably twenty-year-old bed. Nose scrunching as some dust raises into the air, consequently letting out a sneeze.

“Bless you.”

“Did you just bless yourself?”

You winced at the reminder someone else was in the room, exhausted after the two-day travel to a motel room in the middle of whoop. “Yeah…”

“You really are something, aren’t you?” At the calm amusement evident in his tone, your heart rate began to slow down. He didn’t think you were crazy.

You let out a breathy laugh. Wow, I wonder how those stains got on the ceiling? Lava monster perhaps? Are those even a thing? Probably.

“Yeah… well, someone has to Jackson.” You glance towards him, he’s sitting at the small, poor excuse of a dining table. Heart rate picking up again as he gives you a small smile, already having his eyes on you this entire time.

“If I don’t, who will?” you continue.

“Touché. In that case, I’ll do the blessing from now on; you deserve a break.” Shooting you a wink. Instantly feeling flustered at his action, you fight the urge to cover your face with your hands.

Oh, Percy, if only you knew you’ve already been blessing me for the past six years.

“Even say…. If we’re in a battle?” you muse.

He gets up from the table and walks towards you. Once he reaches your side of the queen bed, he kneels, grabbing the hand closest to him, while putting his other on top of his heart. “Oh, y/n l/n, even with my dying breath.”

With that, you burst into a fit of laughter. This boy and his sarcasm.

You play along. “Hmmm what a great tale that will be. The one and only, Perseus Jackson, spending his final breath on sweet old y/n l/n. How dare you burden me with such a legacy to live up to! They’ll think I’m your lover, you know. Demigods all around the world will come searching for me, just to gawk at the beauty that stole your heart.”

At this point, Percy has fallen from his kneeling position, completely lying on the ground, overcome with laughter.

“This isn’t funny, Percy! How am I supposed to live with the guilt of knowing I don’t live up to their expectations?! I’m hardly a warrior either, oh the disappointment.”

Gasping for breath, he manages to find his words, “Don’t stress it y/n, you’re plenty beautiful. I just know they’ll all be stunned by your beauty. Don’t sell yourself short… trust me, once they see you, they’ll be envious that my lover was so enraptured by me that you’ll never be able to love again.”

Now it was your turn to laugh. Would that be so bad?

Gasping for breath, eventually, both of your laughs die down, leaving you both breathing heavily. “C’mon Percy, let’s get some sleep. Its going to be a long week of scouting for demigods if we’re tired.”

As Percy nods, silently getting up to go to the bathroom to change, but he can’t help but think to himself that he wouldn’t mind if he was stuck in the middle of nowhere with you. No matter how long.

It had been three days since you and Percy arrived in the town you continuously fail to remember the name of. It wasn’t the only thing you were failing at doing either, because it seemed that for some unknown reason, the school that was supposed to arrive here for their camping trip still hadn’t shown up.

“We should send an Iris message to camp. It doesn’t look like they’re showing up any time soon, and by the looks of things, we’re going to need to have them send someone for more supplies.”

Percy sighed, looking out the window. Was this the opportunity he was looking for? Maybe… he knew he’d be a stupid fool to pass it up. Swept up in his new thoughts, he never replied. “Percy?”

Without even looking at you, he nodded, turning to go to the bathroom, “Yeah sure, I’ll go into the bathroom and make the call.”

Humming in acknowledgement as he left the room, you couldn’t help but stare at the spot he was previously standing in from your position on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t look too good.

For such a great hero, you wondered if this quest was doing him any good. After the first day of scouting the campsite, it was obvious he was already antsy to get home. It seemed no matter how light you tried to keep the atmosphere; it was like something was weighing on his mind. Mostly when you were both in the motel room together, you supposed it was because he barely went on quests nowadays. Understandably so, after all, who could blame him for wanting a break and spend time with his family? This made you feel immensely guilty since you could never give him words of truly understanding what he’s gone through. You’d arrived at camp a few days before him, yet over the years you were never sent onto a major quest. It upset you greatly at first, but you grew to appreciate your time at camp.

Before your mind could delve further into its guilt and self-pity, Percy re-entered the room, sitting next to you with a huff. “It’s all good. They’re going to send Leo with some extra supplies, and he’ll help us for the rest of this quest.”

Accidentally getting swept up in how pretty his eyes were, you tensed up, realising he was staring at you expectantly. Quickly nodding and clearing your throat you looked down to your lap, “ahh, okay that sounds good. I guess we’ll have time to sightsee or something…”

Sightsee? Really y/n? There’s nothing in this stupid town!

An awkward silence filled the room. Due to your previous thoughts, you were unsure how to proceed. This was the first time you were alone with him and had nothing else better to do.

Percy on the other hand, found that the obvious swooning look in your eyes was his green light. “Uhhh actually y/n?”

Oh, please don’t ask me why I basically just drooled all over you for NO FUCKING REASON. Snapping your head back up to look at him, you desperately tried to ignore the pounding in your chest that managed to find its way into your ears, “yeah?”

“There’s something I want to ask you.”

Holy shit he knows, doesn’t he? He knows I’ve liked him this entire time, and he’s going to reject me even though I never even said anything!

“I uhm… look I know we’re kind of on a small quest and all but technically we ARE waiting for Leo and the school to arrive before we continue… and you know we kind of have like at least a day or two until then so I was just wondering…”

“Yeah, Percy? You can just say it, you know; I really don’t mind.” I do mind, but please get this over with before I cry. With your heart rate increasing at an alarming rate and face heating up so much, you wanted Zeus to blast you right then and there.

Percy felt like he was about to puke, he’d never felt this nervous before. Yeah, he had his moments growing up with Annabeth, after all, she was his first girlfriend, but this was different. He wanted this to be different. Sure, he never regretted their relationship, and yes, he knew he’d always remember everything they went through- what he went through but… he wanted a clean slate. He desperately just wanted nothing more than to know that there was at least one person in his life that wasn’t constantly fighting for their lives—someone who didn’t have to live with as much trauma as him.

“W- would you maybe... Gods, do you want to have dinner tomorrow night? Maybe at the diner further into the town?”

HOLY FUCK.

He was interested and honestly, you were over the moon. Breathing out the breath you were holding in, you fail to hide the smile on your face, “yeah, I’d like that.”

His face instantly broke out into a wide smile matching yours. “Wait really?”

Unable to hold back a small giggle, you nodded, “yeah, Percy.”

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you admire the blue dress you found in a charity shop this morning while Percy was sleeping. I can’t believe this is happening.

If you had old even more awkward 15-year-old y/n that you were about to go on a date with the boy you admired from your table during meals (when he was there), you would’ve laughed. Mainly because at that point, he didn’t even know you existed, only having your first conversation during the battle of Manhattan when you were helping Will.

Okay… lets do this.

Walking out of the bathroom, Percy is already sitting on the bed in his usual t-shirt, jeans and converse waiting for you.

“Woah… You look uh-” Never finishing his statement, worry bubbled in your chest.

“Oh, uhm… I- I can change if you’d like?

Jumping up from his place on the bed, his head shook quickly. “NO! N-no don’t do that.”

“Ah uhm… okay? Sorry, it’s just I saw it in a store earlier and uhm… it looked nice, and I just thought that maybe it’d be cool to maybe put in a bit more effort? I mean… not that you don’t look good or anything! I love what you wear, you always look nice! but I don’t know… I don’t get to look nice much and… I just wanted it to be kinda special since we don’t get to… well our lives don’t really grant us these opportunities very often. Or at least for me anyway…”

“Hey, no, it’s okay! I totally get it… you look beautiful.” After hearing your small confession and thought to prepare for your date, his heart felt like it was melting. How could someone be so thoughtful when all he was doing was taking you to a rundown diner who probably only served mediocre burgers?

A small wave of guilt washed through him. Feeling like he would never be able to truly sweep you off your feet or give you that sweet, tooth-rotting love and affection, every day, just like you deserved. After everything, he knew he could try his best but even then, he’d never be able to hide the anxiety or PTSD he had acquired over the years.

You looked up to him with a smirk. “Glad to hear it, lover.”

Cheeks heating up at your comment, he laughed trying to play it off as cool as possible. Taking a step closer to you and flattening his shirt as if it would wipe away its wrinkles, he held out his arm. “Shall we, lover?”

Matching his level of fake sophistication, you linked your arm with his, “with pleasure.”

And with that, you both walked out of the motel, with hopeful spirits. To any onlooker, you both looked like normal young adults.  

“Where the fuck are you?!” Percy’s voice boomed from his end of the phone, supposedly made without any monster risks.  

You winced, slowly and cautiously walking your way out of the forest. The once clean dress was now covered in dirt and had few tears. It went perfectly with your dishevelled, twig and leaf infested hair.

“Space doesn’t really exist, so I’m nowhere. Life is built on social constructs and, since there’s no way to know if we’re really alive or if it’s just an illusion, I can’t be anywhere.”

“Y/n.”

Okay, he was concerned, and you couldn’t blame him. After all, how did you expect him to react after getting separated from you as you were chased into the woods by an Empousai after dinner?

Romance at its finest.  

“Yeah, sorry, I got caught up, but I’ll be there soon.”

Ending the call, you couldn’t help but feel guilty as you replayed the events that just occurred in your head. The date was amazing. It wasn’t perfect by any means, but it was still sweet. Which led you both to go on one of those cliché night walks. That was nice too, until two Empousai came out of the forest and decided to attack you both.

Percy being…. Well Percy, he swiftly got out riptide and didn’t hesitate to defend the two of you. You, on the other hand, were completely caught off guard only just noticing as one of them turned their focus on you while Percy was distracted.

And what did you do like the perfectly trained demigod you were?

You ran like a headless chicken into the forest.

After a few minutes of running, they tackled you into the ground. Trying and failing failed to shove them off, you suddenly remembered the dagger you strapped to your thigh under your dress and stabbed them.

Clearly not your proudest moments.

Finally making it back to the room, you unlocked the door and let out a huff of relief. “Well… that date didn’t go as expected.”

Percy, took in your current state staring at you with wide eyes… but he didn’t say anything. Is he angry at me? Fuck now he’s going to call off whatever this is, all because I’m an incompetent idiot! I knew I should have tried harder in the sparring activities at camp.

Feeling highly intimidated under his intense stare, you began to play with the hem of your dress, voice going quiet. “Look I uh- I know it probably wasn’t the date you were hoping for but I uhm-“

Before you could even finish your poor excuses, your words are soon lost entirely. Percy stalked towards you with a determined look on his face. Reaching you, he firmly placed his hands on either side of your face, smashing his lips onto yours.

You let out a small, muffled squeak of surprise as your eyebrows shot up into Olympus. Yet unlike your fighting skills, this was something you managed to adapt to at a faster pace.

Eyes fluttering closed, you fisted his shirt, pulling him closer.

Please don’t let this be a dream.

Because Gods forbid if this your one chance, you weren’t letting this moment end that easily.  

Moving your lips against his, the urgency he came onto you with slowly began to dissipate, feeling his soft, but slightly chapped lips move against yours. Deepening the kiss, you let go of his shirt, gliding your hands up his tense torso and along his strong arms, eventually placing your hands on his wrists that were on either side of your face. Applying a small amount of pressure to the inside of his wrists with your thumbs, his mind began to drift into a calming haze as you softly stroked them. It was almost as if you were able to brush away the worry that bubbled in him when he got back to the room, only to find you weren’t there. Yet here you were… safe.

It was intoxicating and calming having him so close to you, his entire being overcoming your senses to a point where you fought the urge to let out a small whimper when he pulled away.

Resting his forehead against yours, chest rising and falling heavily flushed against you; he continued to hold you in his warm embrace. “I wouldn’t have had it any other way.” He whispers, breath fanning against your face.

Because as much as Percy was afraid he’d let you down, he knew no matter what you were worth every single risk.

“…but I’m going to have to teach you a few things when we get back to camp. We can’t have my lover running away in battle all the time, how will I know if you sneeze?”

Letting out a snort, you playfully hit his chest. “Anything for you, lover.”

A soft smile graces his face as he looks at you adoringly as the word takes on a whole new meaning… because you were right. He’d do anything.

A/N: whelp! i hope you all liked it :)) its not perfect but oh well? 

also i dont have a percy jackson taglist but i gotta tag the holy grail of fic writers for this fandon eep @cabinofimagines​   🙈 🙈

Divider credit: @biskit-rising​

[phykios]

i meant to have this up on friday but i didn’t bc i’m lame anyway, this is dedicated to my dearest dearest peyton 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙 one year ago last friday i had the distinct pleasure of sliding into her dms on discord, several fics and 72 separate aus later, here we are. so, for our friendiversary, have a sexy origin story for percabeth 😁

Say So, for @darkmagyk​ [read on ao3] rated E for sexual content (spicy!!! pls be advised!!!) cw: recreational drug use, experimental bondage, and an accidental hit during intercourse

“I don’t think it’s working,” Annabeth says.

“Just give it a minute.” Sofia sounds gone already, hazy and dreamy.

She gives it a minute.

“Am I supposed to feel something?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I’m not.”

“You gotta be patient,” says Jordan. Throaty and full, her already deep voice is even deeper, almost vibrating in the air.

Annabeth blinks. “Maybe they gave you actual grass. Or maybe I’m too much of a square for it to affect me.” Sofia snorts. “I’m serious. You know at my summer camp they started giving me counselor responsibilities when I was twelve? Percy always said I wouldn’t know what fun was if it hit me in the face. And it’s not like he was wrong, like I spent most of my childhood reading ancient Greek or learning how to use a knife but there were some pretty ridiculous extenuating circumstances and I really wanted this older boy at camp to like me, and why am I talking so fast?”

Masako giggles. “You’re stoned.”

“I am?”

“Stoned,” she confirms.

“High,” says Sofia.

“Intoxicated!” sings Jordan.

“Oh, wow.” She can feel every blade of grass beneath her, tickling along her bare legs, the wind caressing her face, the sounds of Berkeley--frat boys playing Ultimate, rush-hour traffic, a thousand different conversations about nothing and everything--muffled behind a glass wall. “I’m high.”

Sofia laughs. “How does it feel?”

“It feels…” She licks her lips. They taste like avocado fries and sunshine. “It feels like…” Slow. The turn of the earth so soft and gentle, like the tides in the lake when Percy is in a good mood. Like the liminal space between sleepfulness and wakefulness, when you’ve taken a nap and can’t remember what year it is. Like wading through a magical time spell, but warm. “You know what I mean?”

“Annabeth,” says Masako. “You didn’t say anything.”

“What?” She raises her head, looking over at her friend. Her eyes are closed, her hands running along the grass of the quad. “I didn’t?”

“Nothing.”

Annabeth lets her head fall back, thumping the earth. “Oh, theoi, I’m high.”

Overcome, Jordan starts laughing, curling onto her side. The rest aren’t far behind. 

Soon they’re not laughing at her anymore, they’re just laughing to laugh. Laughter is fun, she realizes, her breath and blood whooshing through her body, every muscle and bone in her body united in one single pursuit of joy. Her eyes are squeezed shut, cheeks aching from the force of her smile, her body curled in on itself, wracked with euphoria.

Sofia giggles so hard she snorts, setting them all off again.

Wading through an onslaught of laughter, high and squeaky, Annabeth gasps out, “Why am I laughing so much?”

“Because you’re high, girl!” Jordan crows. She has turned herself over on her front, her face pressed against the grass. “Have you really never gotten high before?”

“Don’t tease her,” says Sofia, awkwardly patting Annabeth’s knee. “You know she hasn’t done anything.”

She has done stuff, she almost says--before she shuts her mouth with an audible clack.

“Not even at your camp?” Jordan asks, befuddled. Befuddled is a funny word. “No one ever snuck in some alcohol or whatever?”

Thoughts running at a snail’s pace, she has to seriously rack her brain to think if one of the Hermes’ kids ever brought in any illicit substances. Soda, minor monsters, the most powerful weapon ever created--but not any alcohol or marijuana. She thinks. “Our camp director was really strict about alcohol.”

“Lame,” says Masako.

“I mean, he was in recovery,” says Annabeth, her go-to story about Mr. D, just in case anyone ever asks. “It was a whole thing. He couldn’t have it, so we couldn’t have it.” 

“Not lame,” she amends.

“Okay, I think,” she says, a memory appearing out of the fog, after Gaea, after all that nonsense, “I think my co-counselor Katie made some joints out of bay leaves once.” 

The younger kids had gone to bed, sent off with a healthy dose of Clovis’ dream magic to ward away any nightmares, but the older campers had stayed up, huddled around the central brazier into the wee hours of the morning. Still so exhausted she could barely see straight, falling asleep on top of Percy, he had hauled her away to bed, but not before he had declined something for the both of them, something small and white and made to be smoked.

“You can get high off of bay leaves?” Sofia asks. 

Annabeth nods. “That’s how the… the fucking…” the word was on the tip of her tongue. The thing that Rachel did. But long ago. Oracle! “The Oracle, she got high, in ancient Greece. With bay leaves. She’d smoke them and receive prophecy.”

Jordan lifts her head. “Cool. You got ancient Greek high.”

Annabeth nearly says something about Olympus, or maybe Blackjack, an amazing joke about being high and Greek just on the tip of her tongue, but she has just enough self control not to. “No, I was tired. Percy and I went to bed.” 

“Laaaaaaaaame,” says Masako.

It’s just good-natured ribbing. And they’re all high as kites. But Annabeth still frowns. “I’m not lame.”

“You’re amazing, don’t get me wrong,” Masako says, “but you are so lame. You’ve never gotten high before, you’re probably going to marry your first boyfriend… you are so vanilla.”

“And we love that about you!” Sofia jumps in.

Annabeth can’t feel bad right now, but she can feel a little lost. “But I love Percy,” she says. “Why wouldn’t I marry him?”

Percy is perfect. He’s handsome and kind and powerful and funny and brave and handsome. He’s more than anyone could hope for. And he loves her. 

“You’re really going to marry him?” Jordan asks. “Like, for real?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, but he says he can’t propose before he finds the perfect ring. He promised he wouldn’t make me wait too long. I don’t want to have Chase on my diploma.” 

“Oh my god,” Masako giggles, “you’re even more vanilla than I thought.” 

“The dick can’t be that good,” Jordan muses, examining a particularly long blade of grass. 

It is, but they don’t need to know that. 

Sofia snorts. “It is?”

Oh, fuck. Annabeth giggles. “I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“Tell us!” Masako sits bolt upright, eyes wide. “Tell us everything!”

She slams her hands over her face. “Noooo,” she laughs, curling in on herself further. “I can’t.”

All at once, they scream, like the three Erinyes swooping down onto an unsuspecting prey. Or the Cabin Ten campers when someone gets too close with any stray ketchup.

“Spill!” they shriek. “Spill!”

No one has ever demanded to know the details of her sex life before. Even at camp, she and Percy are given a wide berth. Something about walking through Tartartus with your partner apparently takes your sex life from giggle-worthy to kind of intimidating. That’s the biggest difference between her demigod friends and her mortal friends, Annabeth is finding. Other than that, they’re pretty much exactly the same. “What do you want to know?” she asks, naively.

The floodgates open.

“When did you guys first do it?”

“Where?”

“How was it?”

“What does he like?”

“His abs though--”

“Is he good at head?”

“Favorite position!”

“His dick is big, I just know it--”

Over and over, overlapping, a whirlwind of questions, she can’t process them nearly as fast as they are coming--all she can do is laugh, breathless and airy, until they all dissolve into giggles once again.

She’s getting a little tired of this constant laughing.

Even that thought makes her start all over again.

“Okay,” she gasps, “okay, I can’t--I can’t answer all of those.”

Jordan waves her arms. “Me first! First time!”

Annabeth shrugs. “Um, it was… the weekend of Thanksgiving, a few months after we started dating. His parents were at a mixer for their writing group, and I was staying with them during my school break.” What else is she supposed to say? That they’d been talking about it for weeks? That Annabeth had been so excited she’d forgotten to even ask him about condoms? That Percy had been so concerned with making sure he got her off and didn’t hurt her that he’d spent almost an hour fingering her? 

They squeal in unison. “His parents’ house!” Sofia gasps, hands on her face. “So scandalous! How was it?”

Annabeth blushes. “Amazing.” 

And it had been, as amazing as a first time can be. Any person could only ever dream of having a partner as attentive and respectful as Percy for their first time.

“If he’s the only one you’ve ever had, how do you know it was that good?” Jordan asks. “I thought my first boyfriend was good, too, right up until I started dating Julie.” 

“I think three consecutive orgasms counts as being good,” Annabeth drawls.

Once again, the screaming.

“Three?” shrieks Masako.

“Three.”

“Your first time?!”

“He was really really really concerned I wouldn’t get off!” 

Sofia collapses on top of her, hands scrabbling for her shoulders, and always, always giggling. “You marry that boy--you marry him right now!”

“I’m trying!”

“And it’s still good?” Masako’s eyes are as wide as saucers.

Normally, she might be a little reluctant to share--even with Piper. The eighth of this edible, though, is certainly helping grease the wheels of conversation. “It’s always good.”

Jordan groans, throwing a handful of grass in her face. “Bullshit.”

“Always?”

She frowns, really thinking about it, trying to remember a time it was bad. It’s surprisingly really hard. “Sometimes we don’t have time for three orgasms.” 

“How often do you fake it?”

“What do you mean?” Annabeth asks Masako.

“You know… fake it.”

“Why would I fake it? If I fake it, he won’t know I haven’t come yet.” She laughs, more than a giggle but less than a guffaw. It’s so silly. Whoever thought of faking an orgasm?  “How would I even do that?” 

“You’ve never faked it?” Sofia is incredulous, her jaw hanging open. 

Annabeth sits up, flailing a little, reaching forward to touch her toes. Just because. “Of course not. Do people actually do that?”

“Sure,” says Masako. “Sometimes.”

“Why?” 

“I hate you,” Jordan moans, “I hate you so much, you and your stupid sex god boyfriend who makes love to you every night like you’re in some trashy period drama with the…” Her hands come up, weakly making a wavy shape in the air. “The things. You know.”

Masako tilts her head. “Hoop skirts?”

Sofia pitches forward, hands coming flat on the grass. “Okay, Annabeth. Prove to us you’re not vanilla. Craziest place you’ve ever done it.”

All three girls lean in, now, expectant, hungry.

Annabeth frowns.

Where was the craziest place they had done it?

They’d done it a lot in the last few years. His apartment in the city, Cabin Three, her boarding school room… 

Oh. Right.

She flushes.

They lean in even closer.

Well, she can’t tell them about the time they had sex in the temple of Neptune in New Rome, but she can tell them about--“One time, at camp,” she mumbles, playing with a shoelace, “we… Percy is in charge of the boathouse, because--because he’s so good at sailing, you know? So, one day, we both passed our chores off to a couple other counselors, then he took out one of the canoes, rowed us out into the middle of the lake, and…” She glances up, bashful.

Cue the screaming. 

Annabeth covers her face with her arms, falling back down onto the quad.

“At your summer camp!” Masako cries, gleeful. 

“My word!” Playfully kicking her ankle, Jordan pretends to fan herself, like Hazel still does sometimes when she’s startled by something really risque. “Imagine if the children had seen you!”

The children hadn’t seen them, but the naiads definitely had--and had tried to capsize them for their trouble. She hadn’t been able to do any lake-related activities for a week without getting soaked by a stray wave which, coincidentally, managed to avoid hitting everyone else.

“What else?” Sofia asks, practically vibrating. “Craziest kink!”

“Um…” She frowns, screwing up her face so she thinks extra hard. Have they… done anything kinky? They have sex a lot, yeah, and not always in their bedrooms, but other than that… “I… don’t… know…”

Sex with Percy is always amazing--that’s not a lie. But, maybe it’s gotten a little… same-y.

“Well, well, well.” Sofia slow-claps it out, her rings clinking together. “I think she’s ready for the big leagues, don’t you, girls?” 

Through her fingers, Annabeth glances at her. “What do you mean?”

“Bondage.”

“Bondage?” She blinks. “Like, tying each other up?”

Annabeth doesn’t think she’s ever been tied up before. Well, except for the time she wanted to hear the Sirens, but Percy had left her with her knife, so that didn’t really count. 

“Last time I met up with Skylar, we went back to his, and he has this old-timey bed frame, with the slats, right? So I took the belt from my dress, and--”

“Okay, okay,” Annabeth cuts in, covering her face again. “I get the point.”

Maybe her friends have a point. Maybe she is a little vanilla.

Sofia pats her knee. “Next time you guys have sex--”

“So, in like, three hours,” Jordan snorts.

“--take a scarf or a tie or whatever and tie his hands to the headboard. Trust me, he will flip. Out.”

Annabeth nods, taking mental notes. “Hands to the headboard. Got it.” She’s not sure if he even has any ties, but she’s resourceful. She can cobble something together. “And… then what?”

Sofia shrugs. “Kiss him. Do a striptease. Leave him there. I dunno. Whatever you want.”

Masako scrambles to her feet, windmilling to keep her balance. “The Bon Me truck just pulled up,” she gasps, “and I am starving.”

And thus, that particular conversation is over, thanks to the munchies.

***

Truth be told, she kind of forgets it pretty much entirely. Most of that day is gone, the finer details swallowed up in a haze of heat waves and peanut sauce.

That is, until New Rome’s annual pre-Saturnalia mixer: dress code, lighter side of formal. Whatever that means. 

“Hey, babe?” Percy pokes his head in the bathroom, button-down half undone. “I need your eye for a second.”

She grunts around the bobby pin held between her teeth, sliding another one through some hitherto-unknown dimension to hold a curl in place. 

“What do you think, this tie with this jacket?” He holds the two of them together, the black and white Greek key pattern contrasting nicely against the navy blue fabric. “Or will that cause an incident?”

“Probably an incident,” she says, slowly, slipping the bobby pin from her mouth. Then, a thought poking at the back of her skull. “How long have you had that?”

He glances at it. “The tie? Paul gave it to me for graduation.”

“That was nice of him.”

“I’m pretty sure he got it from the Met gift shop, but yeah.” All smiles, he slides the jacket on, tie crumpled in his balled fist. “You’re right, no tie.”

She grunts, noncommittal, gaze sliding away as she tries to remember… something.

“You good?”

“...Yeah,” she says, eventually. “Just spaced out for a second.”

“Alright. You about ready to go?”

She glances at her hair in the mirror, the makeup on the counter. “Give me twenty.”

“Sure thing.” Then he goes out, a few moments of silence passing before she hears the sink turn on as he takes care of the dishes. 

How in Hades did she end up with the perfect man? Truly.

Percy continues to exude perfection at the party, despite the fact that he is clearly less than comfortable, not that she can blame him. Some of the older citizens of New Rome are a little less reserved with their opinions of the Greeks, Percy’s hand clenching around his glass of sparkling grape juice every time someone badmouths camp, their home, but they both relax as soon as they finish making the rounds of NRU’s board of trustees and other college officials, peeling away to find Frank and Reyna and the rest of their friends. 

Still, Annabeth can’t quite focus. 

“Hey.” Percy leans in, his hand against the small of her back, murmuring into her ear. “Are you okay?”

“Hm?” Gods, his hand is so big and warm. All that time in the gym is paying off, too, the weedy, skinny teenager she fell in love with blossoming into a young man, broad shoulders and firm chest like a Phidian sculpture.

“You’re just kind of quiet tonight. Did you sleep okay?”

She blinks at him, thoughts coming back into focus. “Uh--yeah, I’m good. Just--”

“Spaced out for a second?” Making a face, he grins back at her, unrepentant. “You wanna ditch the party?”

“Do you?”

He looks around, eyeing Hylla Ramirez-Arellano as she loudly boasts about being Jeff Bezos’ findom. “A little.”

Well, Annabeth is happy to be his excuse. 

Citing a (completely fake) headache, they make their graceful exit, walking back to their apartment in the cool California night, hand in hand, Percy carrying her heels as she walks barefoot down the sidewalks. 

It’s a quiet night. Percy squeezes her hand every few steps, and she squeezes back, lifting her face to the clear night sky, thoughts she can’t catch slipping through the cracks like wisps of clouds across the moon. But that’s okay. She’s pretty sure they’re good thoughts.

“You sure you’re alright?” Percy asks as they get home, closing the door behind them. “You've been kind of out of it all night.”

Kissing him on the cheek, she shrugs out of her nice coat, slipping it up on their makeshift coat rack, fashioned from a piece of driftwood that had nearly conked Percy on the head the first time they ever went down to the beach. “I’m fine, Percy, promise. Just kind of a bleh day, you know? Nothing a few cuddles and a movie won’t fix.”

At that, he beams, dropping Annabeth’s shoes on the floor. “I’ll get the popcorn!”

"Let me shower first," Annabeth says. Hopefully a shower will clear her head a little.

It doesn't.

Changing into her pajamas, she ruffles her curls with her microfiber towel, frowning as she comes out of the bathroom. Percy's good habits are rubbing off on her; she's left a lot of crap lying around that needs picking up. Collecting stray bobby pins from the vanity, a curling iron from the top of the dresser, and an alternate dress option from where she had left it on the bed, she putters about the room, tidying as she goes, when she stops. Percy's tie lays crumbled at the head of the bed where he had tossed it earlier.

She picks it up, running it between her fingers. It's not exactly silk, but it's still a decently strong weave, machine-made for mass production, inoffensively soft. Annabeth wraps it around her finger, pulling tight, and a flash of heat rushes through her, like a wave off the lava climbing wall. 

“So there’s this guy on Youtube who makes popcorn with Lao Gan Ma spicy chili crisp, and it sounded absolutely amazing,” says Percy, walking into their room, popcorn bowl in hand. Annabeth whips around, the tie crumpled in her fist. “I tried to keep the spice level down, but let me know if it’s too much and I can make another one.”

Annabeth blinks, momentarily uncomprehending. “Uh--sure! Sounds good.”

“Did you pick a movie while you were in the shower?”

“Um…” Was she supposed to? “Your choice.”

“The Sopranos okay?” he asks, climbing onto their bed, twisting around to grab his laptop from the side table. His shirt rides up a little, a sliver of waist and hip peeking out at her.

“Sure.” She likes The Sopranos. It’s a little soapy, but usually she has no problem following along. 

Keyword being usually.

She’s tucked herself into Percy’s side the way she usually does, her head against his, his arm around her shoulders, his thumb ghost along the bare skin of her bicep. He smells really good today, sea salt and cinnamon and chili oil, a testament to his busy day in the kitchen. He’s so warm, always, six feet of dense, packed muscle practically radiating heat. Annabeth could fall asleep right there. She often does. 

Shifting for the sixth time in what must be five minutes, she snuggles into his chest, curling and uncurling her toes. There’s no denying it--she can feel herself getting hotter, a flame in her center, soft and pulsing, reaching every part of her.

How she wishes she could blame it on The Sopranos.

Annabeth presses her nose into his neck, breathing him in, laying a kiss under his ear. Then another on his jaw. And another at the corner of his lips. And one on his mouth, tilting him towards her for better access. He goes, easily, without resistance. 

At some point, the popcorn bowl is moved. 

Then, Percy shuts his laptop closed during Livia’s wake. 

“Hey,” Annabeth murmurs into his mouth, draped over him like some kind of blanket. “I wanna try something.”

He hums, kissing her again. “Okay?”

She reaches behind him, beneath the pillow. She’s not sure why she had stashed it there, rather than hanging it back up in the closet, but she pulls out the tie, holding Percy’s gaze without breaking. “I thought,” she breathes, pressing her chest against him, incentivizing, “you know... if you want to."

His eyes darken, even as his face tries to give nothing away. "You wanna tie me up?"

Lip between her teeth, she nods.

Slowly, controlled, he blows his breath out, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek. "You sure?" he asks, desire rumbling in his chest.

She frowns. "Yeah." Does he not want to?

"Okay," he says, twisting a curl around his finger. "Just want to make sure we’re on the same page here.”

Or maybe worse, does he think she can’t? “Okay.”

Straightening up, she straddles him. He lifts his arms obediently, never breaking eye contact, bracing them against their headboard. It’s not really conducive for this sort of thing, but she threads the tie through the wooden slats easily enough, tying his wrists together, leaning in closer than she needs to so that her chest pushes up against his face.

There. All tied up and ready to go.

She leans back on her knees, taking in the whole pretty picture.

Rhythmically, subconsciously, Percy tests the strength of the bonds, flexing the muscles in his arms. His mouth hangs open, his hips shifting beneath her as he tries to get comfortable, cock hard through his sweatpants.

Annabeth scrambles off him, and he tries to follow, chest jerking as the tie holds him back. He grunts, surprised, shoulders straining, before he falls back, defeated, huffing angrily, a low growl which connects to the pit of her stomach. “Nice try, Percy,” she smirks, sauntering around to the foot of the bed, keenly aware of his gaze as it tracks her, hands on her hips. “It’s my show tonight.”

“Your show, huh?” He settles back against the headboard, wine-dark gaze boring into her. “By all means, then. Give me a show.”

She glares, grinding her teeth. Doesn’t he know she’s calling the shots right now? 

Well, fine. If he wants a show, he’ll get a show. 

Annabeth is… not a particularly graceful person normally, but on the battlefield, she knows she shines. Give her a knife and an enemy, and she can put the greatest dancers to shame. Well, in this case, Percy is the enemy, and… her clothes… are the knife. Or something like that. It makes more sense in her head.

Slowly, she grasps the hem of her sleep shirt, peeling it up over her chest, the fabric blocking her vision for a brief moment as she slips it over her head. When Percy comes back into view, his eyes have darkened just that much more, almost straining with the effort not to stare at her chest, even as it’s presented for his explicit viewing pleasure.

Annabeth does not have much in the way of breasts--never has. It doesn’t seem to bother him, which is nice. Besides, Percy is more of a leg man, as he has expressed several times. So, legs next. 

Her sleep shorts aren’t very sexy, old, threadbare things which had once been yoga pants. When she started gaining a little more weight, and the pants could no longer reach her ankles, she had cut them in a fit of impulsivity, stretching the fabric and sewing herself a new hem, giving her skin more room to breathe. And giving Percy more space to slip his fingers up, the horny bastard. 

She turns around, lamenting the loss, as she so wanted to see his face as she bends over, sticking out her ass, slowly slipping the waistband down. From behind, she hears a faint pickup in breathing. 

Over her ass, down her thighs and her knees. She thinks she hears a groan, muffled behind a bitten lip. She lifts up one foot, then the other, leaving the shorts in a puddle by her feet. Clad only in her panties now--black, lacy, but not due to any pre-planning on her part, unless you count the laundry just about overflowing in the closet hamper--she straightens back up, her hands going to her hair, running her fingers through it in some kind of approximation of sexy.

She turns around, and is greeted with his look of naked longing, his throat working as he swallows, full lower lip firmly in his teeth. His fists are clenched, the muscles of his forearms big and bulging, his heels pushing into the mattress.

She takes a step forward, her fingers teasing the edge of her panties. She won’t take them off, not yet, just torment him a little, lifting the fabric and letting it slap back down to her skin, then she’ll climb back on top of him, hump him through his sweatpants until he’s begging--

Annabeth catches her foot on the fabric puddle. Tripping, she throws out her hands, aiming to catch herself on the decorative chest they keep at the foot of their bed, her weak ankle buckling as it tries to keep her steady--then she jams her toe into the metal strut. Hard.

“Mother fucker!”

She goes down.

“Annabeth!”

Through the white hot haze of pain, she can barely see, but she can certainly feel it as a pair of strong arms picks her up from the floor, laying her on the bed, a big hand taking her weaker foot, fingers delicately prodding the offending toe, skimming over the sensitive skin. “Percy?” she moans, seeing stars. “What--”

“Nothing feels sprained,” he murmurs, kissing her ankle. “Looks like you just slammed it. Let me get some ice.” And he leaves her for a moment.

Wasn’t he tied up a minute ago?

The bed dips beside her as Percy takes her foot again, carefully laying one of their smaller ice packs across the throbbing flesh. Her vision clears, blink by blink, and as his concerned but fond face slowly comes into focus, she also spies something trailing from his wrist--a strip of black and white fabric. 

His tie. Snapped in half. Still attached to him. “Did you…?” she trails off.

He flicks his eyes down to his wrist, and flushes, lightly. “Oh. I, uh, guess I did. I didn’t even notice.”

Annabeth’s body grows hot in a way that has absolutely nothing to do with shame. 

“Anyway,” he coughs, dry and useless. “Um, maybe we should call it a night?”

Hiding her face in her arms, she nods. 

***

They try again the next week.

While dictating her notes via speech-to-text, Annabeth had spent the last couple of days occupied with making her own rope, stronger and softer than the ones she had seen in her Incognito Mode searches while doing her business in the bathroom. BDSM rope is surprisingly really expensive, especially the less abrasive stuff, but more than that, she feels kind of… well, it’s weird, the idea of spending money on bondage shit when they’d only tried it once, and not very successfully at that. Like, how about they make sure they actually like it first, says the little Percy in her head who occasionally keeps her from making too many impulse purchases, and then they can upgrade their gear? 

Also, she’s confident her stuff is on par with the really expensive gear anyway. Plus, it’s blue!

And when she dangles it in front of his face, straddling him once again as she slides her wet pussy over his briefs, practically soaking them, he lifts his arms again, a quiet acquiescence, even as his jaw clenches in the barest hint of displeasure. 

Every day Percy does something new to make her fall in love with him. That he trusts her so much to let her tie him up, immobilize him, take away his control like this, even though he’s so clearly hesitant about the whole thing, that’s just today’s thing. She kisses him, soft and sweet, over and over, and he responds in kind, straining his neck to meet her. “You good?” she asks, a whisper into the space between them, and he nods. “It’s not too tight?”

“It’s fine.” She feels more than sees as he flexes his arms again, testing the strength of her rope. 

“Good.” She kisses his nose. No way he’ll be able to break these. 

The second time is already going better than the first. Having divested herself of her clothes beforehand, there’s no danger of her tripping and injuring herself as she lines herself up and sinks down on him, shuddering at the angle as she slides him inside of her. She just sits there for a moment, rocking back and forth on his lap, enjoying the way he fills her nooks and crannies, brushing up against the sensitive skin, closing her eyes against the sensation as she lifts herself up, sliding back down, up and down and up and down and up and down. 

“Fuck, Annabeth,” he moans. “Oh, fuck.”

It’s good. As always. It’s so good. 

But… something is missing.

She squeezes around him, and he hisses, bucking beneath her.

Why isn’t he touching her?

He groans, frustrated, his head making a muffled thump as it drops on the pillow.

Oh. Right.

Usually right about now he’ll go for her tits, his big hands covering them completely, deft fingers pinching and twisting her nipples in the most perfect way, so she decides to show him what he’s missing, bringing her own hands up to her chest, rolling her thumbs over her nipples, smiling as he practically growls. Unfortunately for her, for whatever sick reason, she’s not nearly as good at this as he is, her touches not really doing enough for her. And after a few minutes or so, Percy takes notice.

“Oh gods, Annabeth,” he pants, pulling his legs up behind her, the force almost tilting her forward, and she throws out her hands to catch herself, his abs tensing beneath her as she lands on them, her chest right up against his face. Quick as anything, he lifts his head up, mouth headed for her left nipple before she manages to pull herself back.

She narrows her eyes, falling back on his lap even more heavily, pushing a grunt out of him. “Nice try.”

He only grins back, shark-like, eyes dancing. “Had to give it a shot.”

Of course he did. Percy treats rules like [clever metaphor], easily broken and discarded. And now Annabeth has to punish him. 

Shit.

What are you supposed to do for punishment again? 

Her mind draws a blank.

Percy stares up at her, waiting, brow raised in challenge.

To stall for time, she squeezes around him.

She’d watched a handful of pornos for research, and in a lot of them, the dominant would strike their partner. Percy’s tough, a bit of an adrenaline junkie, and he likes his rough-housing with Clarisse and Frank and the war kids, so he’d probably like that, too, right? If someone did that to her, Annabeth would probably like it.

So she raises her hand, and she brings it down on his soft, untensed, unprepared tummy. Hard.

He jumps so high that he actually manages to buck her off. “OW!”

“Percy!” she cries, scrambling back over to him. “Oh my gods, I’m so sorry!”

“The hell was that for!” he gasps, curling in on himself as best he can with his arms still tied above his head.

“Sorry, sorry,” she gentles, almost frantic, hands hovering over his body. His belly is rapidly turning pink, the outline of her hand stark on his skin, practically radiating heat. “I just--I mean I thought--fuck, I am so sorry!”

He groans in response, eyes squeezed shut. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck--”Let--let me get you some ice, or--” she stammers, sliding off the bed.

“Can you at least untie me first?” Percy wheezes. 

“Oh my gods, yeah, hold on.” Despite her shaking fingers, the knot comes undone easily, practically falling apart, and Percy curls himself into a ball, forehead touching his knees.

Returning with an ice pack wrapped in a dish towel, she kisses his shoulder in apology, slipping it between the taut, tight bends of his body. 

He is in real, actual pain. Fuck. “I am so, so sorry,” she says again, her voice wobbling.

Squinting up at her, he tries for a reassuring smile, but falls far, far short, a pained grimace painted across his face. “It’s okay,” he rasps. 

It’s really not, but saying that isn’t going to be so helpful right now. 

Instead, she lies down next to him, resting her hand on his arm, gently stroking back and forth in hopes that it might distract him a little. She knows that whenever her ankle or her shoulder act up, all she wants is Percy’s hands on her, repetitive and soothing. Hopefully she can give back a little of the comfort that he gives her.

After a while, he starts to uncurl. “Goddamn,” he moans, still clutching the ice pack to his stomach. “Remind me never to badmouth the Yankees again.”

She forces out a chuckle for his sake, ducking her head against his. “How is it? One to ten.”

Hissing, he straightens out a little more. “Probably a four,” he says, “but a really spicy four.”

“Percy, I am so--”

“It’s okay.” He knocks his head against her chin. “Maybe just warn me next time?”

“Yeah,” she says, uneasy. Next time is not looking so likely. “Here.” 

Slowly, she helps him into a sitting position, applying extra pressure on his stomach, her hand on top of his. They breathe together, letting the sting fade away until Percy drops his head on hers. 

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“How are you?”

“How--” she snorts, a little wet. “I’m fine, Percy.”

“Good.”

“I’m sorry about hitting you,” she says. She can’t help but look down at his stomach, pinkness peeking above the ice pack, at his dick, well and truly flaccid. “That was… not my best idea.”

“Can I ask you something?” Tearing her gaze away, she turns back to Percy. “Why are you pushing for this so hard?”

She blinks, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“Just, you’ve never really expressed an interest in kinky stuff before.” He takes her hand, cold from the ice pack, rubbing his thumb against hers, sweet and intimate. 

“Yeah, well,” she cuddles into Percy a little harder, curving her body around his shoulder. “Some of the girls at Berklee were teasing me about being a little vanilla.” None of it was mean-spirited or anything, but it had stayed with her for a while after it had resurfaced that night. Annabeth Chase, despite having run away from home at the age of seven, was a square, a teetotaler, unadventurous, the kind of woman who spent her Friday nights playing board games with a woman who typified 1930s values. Annabeth Chase, after her short, entirely too eventful life, was going to settle down, and marry the first boy she ever kissed.

It had struck a nerve.

“Being vanilla isn’t a bad thing,” he says, something like concern lacing his voice. “But, are you… not satisfied? With the physical stuff?” The unspoken ‘with me’ hangs between them, and Annabeth pulls back, looking him in the eye.

“Percy.” 

“Mm?”

Reaching up, she kisses him. “Of course not. I could never not be satisfied.”

Something in him eases, almost imperceptible if she didn’t know him as well as she does. “So…”

Shrugging, she lays her head back down on his shoulder. “I dunno. It’s just--like, I’m pretty sure you’re going to be the only person I ever sleep with--”

“Pretty sure?”

She nudges him with her foot, and he laughs, hissing a little as it jostles his stomach. “You know what I mean. I just don’t want to miss out on anything, is all.”

“Like what?”

“Like--” she gestures to the rope, lying forgotten, tangled up in the sheets. “Stuff like that. Kinky stuff.”

“Okay,” he says, slowly. At least he doesn’t think she’s crazy. That’s always nice. “I guess I’m just wondering if you’re actually into bondage and stuff or if we’re just… you know, trying it out.”

Draping a leg over him, knees pressed together, she shrugs. “It sounded pretty fun,” she mumbles into his arm. “You know. Tying you up.”

She feels him swallow, jaw working as he chooses his next words carefully. “Tying me up,” he asks, “or tying you up?”

That… gives her pause. 

“Maybe…” He turns his face towards her, nose in her hair. “We could swap?”

She frowns. “Swap?”

“If you want, I mean,” he says, quickly. “If you’re not--I would never make you do something you didn’t want to, obviously, but, I mean… if you wanted to try?”

Annabeth, for lack of anything to say, rubs her toes against his calf, comforting and grounding.

Does she want to be tied up?

Her first instinct is to refuse, obviously. She’s a warrior. Immobilization is death. And what if a monster attacks? She has to be ready for anything. That was the promise of Athena’s progeny, that they were eternally poised and ready to respond to any problem or threat.

And yet… 

The summer she turned thirteen, she had decided that she was strong enough to hear the siren’s song in the sea of monsters. At her request, Percy had tied her to the mast so she wouldn’t be able to jump in and swim to her death. He had forgotten to take her knife, and when she had, inevitably, fallen prey to their song and cannonballed right into danger, he had jumped in after her, holding her back until she had been able to pull herself out of the magic spell. 

It had been humiliating, and humbling. She hadn’t even begun to realize that she liked Percy as more than a friend at that point. But, years later, the clearest memory she has of that day is not how her pride had reared its ugly head, but instead just how safe she had felt in Percy’s arms, at the bottom of the ocean.

Here, in New Rome, in their apartment, with Percy… Well, what’s the worst that could happen? “Sure,” she says, perhaps a little more confident than she actually feels. 

“Sure?”

“Sure. Why not?” Looking up at him, she searches his gaze for any hesitation or fear, and finds none, and that, more than anything else, settles her. “I’m game.”

He looks for the same in her, and he seems to like what he finds, because he cracks a grin, laying a soft kiss on her lips.

Gingerly, still mindful of his stomach, he reaches over to grab the discarded rope. Taking her hands in his free one, he loops it around her wrists, tucking the ends into itself, tight but not constricting. Comfortable. 

Her breath catches in her throat. 

“You good?”

Nodding, she flexes her wrists outward, just to feel the tension--and she sighs, a breathy moan slipping out of her without her permission.

They freeze.

Annabeth slams her eyes shut, praying he didn’t hear her.

“...Okay then,” says Percy. 

Gods, his shit-eating grin is practically audible. “Shut up.”

“Excuse me?” He leans in, kissing her ear. “Did you just try to tell me what to do?”

She shivers beneath his warm breath. “I…” She is suddenly full of apologies and excuses bubbling up out of nowhere.

Percy hums. “You what?” Slowly, agonizingly, he slides his hand down the length of her body, ending on her tight, just above her knee. He squeezes, featherlight, and she shivers.

“Um,” she says, watching his hand creep higher, his fingers dipping between her legs. “I…”

Then he stops. He stops, that big hand still wedged halfway to her vagina.

“Are--” she stutters, almost yelping as he kisses the sensitive spot beneath her jaw, teeth scraping over the skin. “Are you going to finish?”

“Dunno. Was thinking about it. But maybe I won’t. Maybe,” he chuckles, directly into her ear, his nose pressing against her cheek. His other arm comes around, slipping beneath her bicep, fingers finding her nipple like it’s a damn beacon, and he pinches it, smiling into her skin as she jumps, grunts, and flushes. She wants to touch him so badly, but the angle of her arms is so weird and she’s kind of on top of him, and she can’t reach his cock or his hair or--“Maybe I’ll just get you worked up, and then I’ll go to sleep.”

What--but--he can’t--“I--you--”

“Say you’re sorry,” he teases, pressing his cheek to her head, “and maybe I’ll reconsider.”

Sorry for what?! She almost snaps. Percy’s hand between her legs plays just at the edge of her sensitive spots, teasing with soft touches, driving her crazy. “I’m--I’m sorry, Percy,” she pants, squirming. Maybe if she shimmies down, his hand will move up--

But he won’t be moved. “Sorry for what?”

“For--” he digs a nail into her thigh, a sharp, sweet bite of sensation, like a campfire ember accidentally landing on your skin, bright and pulsing. Fuck, what is she apologizing for? “For hurting you earlier.”

Shaking his head, he chuckles again, moving his hand further away. No! “Close,” he mumbles, “but no cigar--”

Oh! “For telling you what to do!” she blurts. “I’m sorry for telling you what to do!”

He bites her earlobe. His fingers slide up to her pussy, stroking her labia as they open up to him. “There we go.”

And as he jerks her off, bringing her to the finish with the kind of efficiency and skill that only comes after ten thousand hours, he kisses her, wet and hot, mouth insistent, taking her lip between his teeth, and he mumbles: “Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

She breaks, crying into his mouth. 

After a while, he slides his fingers out, giving her one final pass on her clit, and she shudders, whining. “Sorry,” he mumbles, warm. “You good?”

Her tongue heavy in her mouth, all she can do is nod, panting. 

But when he slides his other arm out, making to untie her--”Don’t,” she mumbles, pulling back. 

He starts. “Don’t?”

“Don’t.” Turning into him, she snuggles against him as deeply as she could, her bound hands only making it a little bit awkward, though they do come to rest on his stomach, about the perfect distance for her to reach down and take care of him. “Your turn?”

But he just shakes his head, slinging a leg over hers. “Still a little sore,” he admits, not quite meeting her gaze.

She drops her head onto his chest, relishing in the warm, steady heartbeat beneath her ear. “Sorry.”

“You can make it up to me later,” he says, taking her hands in his, thumb tracing along the edge of the rope. “I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

[cadykeus-clay]

Would you mind sharing your thoughts about vex and Beau being cross campaign foils?

so!!!! first things first: apologies for taking weeks to answer this, finals + having adhd sometimes makes my brain turn to mush and forget every ask ive ever recieved. second of all, i’m assuming you sent me this bc of what i said in my vm vs. m9 how they view the world meta. and i’ll be real with you. i have exactly 0 memory of what was going through my head when i wrote that line, so i am simply going to type out a bunch of thoughts that i have on the similarities and differences between beau and vex and i hope that lives up to what you were expecting jsdflksjdksld

I'll detail some specifics in a moment, but overall, I think beau and vex share a very similar kind of trauma of exclusion in their formative years, that's caused them to have a lot of similar traits that manifest in different ways - for vex, she maintains control through her material posessions and beau finds an emotional control in her asshole-ness. I've broken this down into 5 points on which I think comparing the two really emphasizes that claim:

1. daddy issues: both beau and vex have awful no good terrible very bad dads. both syldor and thoreau can suck my ass. they both raised their kids with little love and impossible-to-meet expectations, alientating them and leaving them with lifelong feelings of inferiority and unbelonging. If beau and vex were to meet, i think they would have a very friendly toast to shitty dads, and then have a good drunk vent about it an hour later.

but, at the same time, the actual minutae of their trauma and the ways it manifests are nearly polar opposites. syldor wanted nothing to do with vex, or else wanted her to somehow become a full elf. her issue was that she would never be able to belong, despite her desire to, and as she grew up it lead to her being overly protective and even possessive of the people she found who DID accept her as she was. 

With beau, rather than exclusion, her father created an environment of toxic inclusion. He created a role for beau to belong in, disregarding her distate for actually fulfilling it. And, as such, she ended up making herself into someone who could have no expectations and pushed away anyone who tried to set them up for her. In the end, they both came to love themselves by abandoning the woman their father wanted them to be but for vex it was the laying down of an impossible dream and for beau it was the picking up of a mantle she had feared to wear.

2. brothers: now, on the topic of family, I also think its really interesting how their interactions with their brothers play out. We've got vex and vax, tied at the hip til the very end and then some; and then we've got beau and TJ - decades apart and with beau barely acknolwedging TJ's existence. But, even that distance between beau and TJ didn't stop her caring for him when they actually met. She gave him lucky Jade, and she entertained the idea of kidnapping him to get him away from her stinko dad. 

And I'd espeically like to talk about what she said outside the hag's hut - "I think Luc and TJ could be best friends", in comparison to the way Vex reacted when Vax told her was going to Zephrah with Keyleth for the year break. There's an aspect to the way they interact with their brothers that lets them slip back into those bad habits they formed growing up (NOT that i'm claiming vex and vax were like toxic for each other. but even good relationships can have unhealthy moments). 

With Beau, when she offers to give her happiness so TJ can grow up safe, she's trying to take on the role she's ""supposed"" to fill - the big sister, the protector - because she failed to fill the one her father set out. And with Vex, when she grows jealous of Vax, it's because she's afraid that his leaving with keyleth is a sign that she no longer belongs in his inner circle, and she falls back on that childish, desperate desire to do anything to be accepted unconditionally. 

3. romance: spoilers for 5 or so most recent m9 eps (115-120)  if you haven't watched them ahead!!!! at this point, both vex and beau have an endgame romance - percy and yasha respectively. Obviously as the m9's campaign is still playing out, that could change, but like. yasha wrote her a love letter and they're officially going on a date so i'm counting that as at least endgame-track rather than just random flirting. What's interesting to me is that they both seem to flip between the SAME roles between their (in-game) general perception and their actual pursual of romance. 

Vex gets characterized as a pretty big flirt, right? She's got the winks, the casual "darling". She's flashed grog her boobs on multiple instances with little prompting. Beau, similarly, has easily the most game out of anyone in the m9. She's slept with two guest characters and at least one more npc in the events of the game. Caleb made her a fuck mirror in her room in the mansion. And yet, in both of their actual romantic endeavors, they became the shy, uncertain type. 

Vex only confessed her feelings when Percy was laying dead before her, and not an hour of game play before percy kissed her in the woods, she had a talk with vax about how she was pretty sure he didn't like her that way and she didn't want to pursue it. Beau, similarly, spent a very long time convinced that yasha wasn't looking for love after zuala, especially not in anyone like her, asked everyone in the party if they thought yasha ACTUALLY liked her, just to be safe, and then still terrified to ask her out after recieving a literal love letter. I'd argue this shift comes from that same sense of unbelonging - they're very good at pretending they fit a role but doubt their actual right to take it when the opportunity is presented. This time, the role is the lover rather than the daughter.

4. authority: Both vex and beau grew up shunned by the upper crust of society, and grew to mistrust those kinds of people. And yet, both of their arcs result in them assuming such a position. Vex, thrown out of high society gets her place as a baronness, and Beau, running from leadership of her father's business ends up a top member of the Cobalt Soul. There's not a lot here, but I find it interesting how both of their stories involve them shedding their baggage regarding authority and power and assuming it in a way that they feel comfortable in - invitation by someone she trusts for vex, and a promise of freedom of will and control for beau.

5. their deadliest sins: this is the point at which their similarities culminate and transform to a fundamental difference. despite everything they share - shitty childhoods, the small piece of family that's still good, flirtiness masking shy love, and a mistrust of those in power - vex and beau are such different characters because of their biggest vices. Vex, both in game and out, is "the greedy one". She's stingy with money, she haggles for everything, she mourns the loss of physical objects. Beau is "the mean one". She cares little for people's feelings if they're not in her immediate circle, she focuses on her tough guy image, she laughs at things she knows she shouldn't. 

And, over the course of the campaign, as they find unconditional acceptance, they grow away from these traits (I won't say they grow out of them) because they heal from the things causing these vices to begin with. I've always been vocal about vex's greed being a manifestation of her class insecurity, and beau's asshole-ness stemming from her fear of being forced back into another position of complacency. And I stand by that now - all the similarities in their backstories are what tally up to these different women.

Despite her careful tally of party funds and her reflexive bargaining, vex is not cruel. she is not angry on her own behalf. She saves two boys from the market in the city of brass at great personal cost, she relinquishes an entire dragon's hoard to the devastated city of Westruun, she took the time to save a baby bear from a cage when she could have just cut and run after escaping her own. She's the first one most people go to when they need a shoulder to cry on, and she's devastated when they don't (thinkin about when Scanlan left). She carved "forgiveness" into the bow she stole from a man after killing him by proclaiming how much she loved someone, because she knew anger had no place in her heart.

And Beau, Beau is a bitch and she's harsh, but she doesn't hoard or protect like vex did. she spends her money without much of a second thought. She pitches in to help her friends buy a ton of glowsticks, and she loves to indulge in material desires like drink and good food and the nicer inn room. She's a member of an organization that's about making knowledge public rather than guarding it. And, though this may be controversial, I think her position with bowlgate of "its not our problem what cali wants to do with it", her long-standing mistrust of their alliance with the bright queen and  and more recently with the tomb takers of "i want to go in and talk, rather than assuming they're antagonistic, even if it puts us at a disadvantage" are both examples of this non-possessiveness too - she has no need or desire to get involved in controlling what other people are doing.

so, i guess the general conclusion here is: vex struggles to let go of things, of money, of people. beau struggles to let herself be known in case she gets wrongly interpreted again. they both fight feelings of inadequacy, they both fight the feelings of not belonging, of 'doing it wrong', they fight the perception of them as shitty people because of the shells they hide in despite their absolute hearts of gold.  but at the end of the day, vex's story is one of having to lay down what could never be hers so she can carry what is, and beau's story is one of allowing herself to be known so a place can be made for her.

[weasleyslag]

i’m not coming home | p.w

summary: A collection of letters between Percy and his girlfriend Penelope Clearwater following his estrangement from his family.

pairing(s): Percy Weasley/Penelope Clearwater

wc: 6.2k (lol I’m sorry)

warning(s): heavy cursing, hella toxic relationship, no happy ending

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30644294

Dear Percy,

See, I told you I would write! I really am so proud of you and your new job. I hope you’ll allow me to come visit your new apartment soon. I know you’re very busy, but maybe not too busy for me? My dad told me he’d pay for my stay in London if you invited me, but I think it’d be more fun for me to stay with you and go to a show or something. I heard there’s some good muggle performances down there, I’d be interested to see that sort of thing. It’d be an good change, I’m up to my head with wizards that think they’re so talented. 

Please tell me all you can about your job when you write back! I know it must be super under wraps, being the Junior Assistant to Fudge himself, but I would be interested in knowing the most mundane of things you can tell me, it would most certainly be more enthralling than the highlight of any of my days. I was hoping I’d be promoted to something more dignified by now, but they’ve still got me watching over some of the Ministry workers’ children. You know I like kids, but I’d rather not be a glorified babysitter. There’s not even many learning activities I can do with them, I’m pretty much instructed to do puppet shows and other silly tasks for them all day. Hopefully someone recognizes my potential soon. Maybe since you work with Fudge now, you can say something to him??? 

I hate to turn this letter sour but Fred and George have gotten into contact with me this week. They’re really worried about you. They said that they’ve all written to you and the letters are always sent back, unopened. You must know this hurts them, why don’t you at least read the letters? You know they love you and I know that you really are kind at heart; you must still have love for them. I know it must have been hard for you to hear that after all your efforts, your dad doesn’t believe you’re capable of receiving such a prestigious job on your own merits. But of course they are all paranoid, what with all that happened last Spring. I hope you can find it within yourself to be the bigger person and reconcile with your family. Maybe they’ve even apologized in their letters, you’ll never know unless you read them. Don’t read Fred’s though, he’s more mad than the rest of them. I’m sure he’s thrown every name in the book at you.

I hope my next letter will be in better spirits. I hope Hermes is doing well and I hope even more so that you will adjust to life in London well.

With Love, 

Penelope 

Dear Penelope,

I cannot express with words how excited I was to receive your owl. I hope you don’t mind that I kept her for a few days, Hermes adores her and she reminds me of you. However, I also had to keep her back because it took quite some time to give you an adequate response to everything you said in your letter.

Hermes and I are well. He hasn’t adjusted as well as I have, but I understand. The air is polluted and there’s not much room for him to roam. There’s no forests in sight, only a bunch of buildings. If I wasn’t taking your letters, I would send him back to the Burrow. He was happier there and besides, the ministry has provided me a new owl for business letters.

I, on the other hand, am doing the best I ever have been. I am extremely efficient with my work and I appear to be pleasing my superiors. In my off time, I watch live shows and read. I have been getting into some Muggle classics, like War and Peace. Their culture is quite interesting, although ours is clearly superior. I am glad I am nourishing my mind as much as I can, I only wish there wasn’t so much noise outside my apartment. Jackhammers and traffic is all l I hear all day. It gets old fast. I’m not sure if you would like it here, but I would be happy to have you if you wish to visit. Although, I thought about your proposal to stay with me and I must decline. I would love to and I am sure my hormones would have a field day, but your father wants you to stay somewhere else and merely visit me during the day, trying to trick him would be wrong. I am sorry, but rules are rules, even when it comes to you.

I will speak with Fudge about your employment. I am a bit nervous to do so but I think he likes me, so I will certainly try. You’re a very smart girl and I believe if they just took notice of how you applied yourself, they’d move you up the ranks swiftly. It would be a shame to let such an academic be reduced to a daycare worker. That seems like something my mum would do if she worked. And you certainly surpass her when it comes to brains and ambition. 

Dismayed is an understatement for how I feel knowing that my family has taken advantage of our relationship to try to shake me. I do not wish to speak to them now, I will only speak to them when they realize that I am right, which I hope won’t be much longer. You’re right, of course, I do have love for them, even Fred and George, but I can not continue a relationship with people that discount my accomplishments and constantly laugh at my expense. Reading their letters is pointless. I read the first letter I received from Charlie and although he tried to be eloquent, he still wasn’t seeing things my way. He was basically just regurgitating everything my dad had said, just in a kinder way. He and Bill have always been the most sensible so I see no point in attempting to read the other letters, they will only be worse versions of Charlie’s. I will admit that curiosity got the better of me, however. A letter from Fred came in the same day as yours. You were right, it was awful. I shouldn’t have expected anything more, however, that boy is barely literate. Here is a snippet of his abomination of a letter (I have fixed the spelling mistakes, there’s no reason to subject you to that):

“You are a massive cunt, you know that? After all mum and dad have done for you. Seriously?  I can’t even call you a prat anymore, that’s just an insult to prat’s. You’re a slag for Fudge and we all know it. If you wanted to give him a good rimming, you could have just said so instead of causing us all this grief. Well not me, I don’t give one fuck about you. You could be in a ditch tomorrow for all I care. And maybe you will be, Fudge and his friends would just as well see you there as in an office. How could you choose him over your own mother? I hope you’re happy that you make her cry every night. I hear that you get paid three times dad’s salary and you have sent home not one knut. But twats like you don’t care about their family, huh? Enjoy your cushy apartment, I hope when you open the windows, a pigeon flies in and takes a shit on your head.”

Isn’t it just terrible? And it’s all one huge paragraph too, with unbearably non-flowy sentences. He is a right idiot if he thinks I’d ever want to respond to that. And why would I want to send money to people who treat me like that, anyway? I can’t put myself into his pea brain so I guess I will never know. Please make me take your advice next time so that I won’t have to subject myself to that kind of torture.

As for what happened this Spring, I’d rather not talk about it. The Ministry says that you-know-who is not back, so I’m afraid Harry must have been lying. Perhaps he had a fever and hallucinated the whole thing. I don’t hate him, by the way. I know my family must be trying to convince you of that but it is just not true. I think he is foolish and many adults are using him as a pawn. It’s sad, really. My family has gotten so desperate that they made Hermione and Harry write me letters too. I had already been informed by Fudge himself to turn over any correspondence from Harry, so of course I did that. I do wish I had the forethought to read the letter first, I’m very curious about it now, but oh well.

I care for you very much and hope we can arrange a visit soon.

With Even More Love,

 Percy

Dear Percy, 

I was hoping this letter would be more positive than the ones we have exchanged lately and that perhaps we could even arrange my trips to London, but I have gotten some terrible news. And I will not believe it until you confirm it.

There is a nasty rumour going around that you are to be court scribe for the Wizengamot in Harry’s trial. Say it isn’t true, Percy! I know it’s such an honor to work so closely with the Wizengamot, you’d be the youngest person in all of history to work as a scribe for them. But at what cost? Harry is your friend. I’ve been spending more and more time with your family and I consider Harry to be a friend now, too. I know the details of the case, and I’m sure you must since you’re apparently working it. Even if you don’t care for him, you must understand that objectively, Harry is in the right, at least morally. He was saving his cousin. The cousin that he grew up with and besides the kid being an absolute terror, he was basically his brother. Wouldn’t you cast magic to save your brothers or sister? How can you work for a case like that when you know you’d do the same as Harry?

I love you, I really do, and that’s why this breaks my heart so much. You’re turning into something that you aren’t for the sake of ambition. Please don’t do this. Come home and if Fudge truly does value you as much as you think, he will continue working with you even after you are on good terms with your family again. You must be missing them, aren’t you?

I will have to postpone the trip to London until you get all this figured out. I hope you understand. I am always open for you to come back here to visit me. We could all meet for dinner at the Burrow, where you belong.

I don’t have much else to say. I’m scared about what’s happening in the world and I’m nervous for you. I miss you, but I’m not sure if the you I miss is still you.

P.S: Tell Hermes I love him.

xxxx,

Penelope 

Dear Penelope, 

You have heard right, at least about the Wizengamot. I beg of you not to let my family poison your mind. Clearly, they want everyone to think I’m a terrible person. If they had it their way, we wouldn’t even be together right now. It’s not their fault, really, they suffer from cognitive dissonance, but they only think with their heart. That’s not sustainable and most certainly not how the world works. The court specifically wants me to be scribe and like you acknowledged, that is a huge honor. This is really going to help me get ahead even further. You know I have big dreams. I’d like to be the Minister one day and having all this under my belt would be a big help.

I really am not allowed to be discussing the case with the public, but I suppose I will make a tiny exception for you. I can’t help but have a soft spot for you; I musn’t make bending the rules for you a habit. You’re lucky I’m even physically able to say anything. The Ministry is heavily monitoring all the mail that comes in and out from high ranking members, but they haven’t done that with me yet (as far as I know, at least). I guess it must be because I’ve been so loyal and I won’t even receive my family’s letters, so they trust me. Little do they know that I have a weakness for you. 

As of right now, I’m not too worried about Harry (of course, they might change when court is in session and I get all the details). I think his case makes sense. I’ve poured through court cases similar to this one, although the defendants were never as much of a public figurehead as Harry (but that shouldn’t matter, the Wizengamot is totally unbiased and will not take Harry’s fame into account when deciding a verdict), and every court case similar to this ended in a not guilty verdict. I am not sitting as a court scribe to try to lock Harry away, it’s just my job. I don’t approve of him, but let’s not pretend like I never want him to see the light of day again. Anyway, I was surprised that someone that possesses your caliber of intelligence relied so hard on pathos to convince me that being a court scribe is wrong. Everyone knows emotion is a flimsy argument and certainly has no place in the courtroom. The fact that he saved a muggle’s life will definitely be brought up in court, but it won’t be because it’s someone he cares for. It’ll be because we have all sorts of laws about self defense and protecting each other, even a few about protecting muggles. I fear you might not have a place high up in the ministry if you continue preferring pathos to logos. And anyway, you trying to my emotion by bringing up my family makes no sense. My family are wizards, so if it came down to it, I could protect them and it wouldn’t be against the law. It’s not my fault that my family is better than those Dursley’s. 

I really must beg of you to stay away from my family and especially from Harry. That will probably not end well for you. Do not mistake that for a threat, I’d never hurt you, but I’m being realistic. Harry is off the rails and my family blindly believes him. In my opinion, Harry needs to be in a mental hospital, not roaming around as a public figure where everyone hangs on to his every word. He clearly suffers from PTSD after all he went through as a child between his parents being murdered in front him, a very powerful dark wizard trying to to murder him, and the muggle abuse he endured. And that’s not even mentioning all the pressure the world, especially Dumbledore, has put on him. He’s not a bad guy, he’s just insane. If the adults around him cared as much as they say they do, they’d put him away for a while until he can heal. But they won’t, that’s the problem. And now I hear that little Ginny is in love with him. I have never in my life been so in despair. I can’t help but think how bleak her future will be. Maybe I should write a letter to her. I doubt she’ll listen, but I do need to try. 

I really do hope you decide to come visit me. Maybe I can speak with your father and come to an honest agreement about you living with me soon enough. I am really lonely here and I’ve been thinking a lot about the future. It seems my family and I will never get along again and I have no one else besides you. I have all this extra income so I think it might be practical for me to marry you. Then, you wouldn’t have to hear all this rubbish from my family in order to feel close with me. I will speak with him about it soon. It’s not really all that bad here and even if you’re not good enough to have a real job in the Ministry, that’s okay. I make enough money and I do want a lot of kids anyway. It wouldn’t be practical for you to have a demanding long term job.

Love, 

Percy

Percy, 

Maybe I am a sensitive fool but I found much of your letter to be highly offensive. You essentially called me unintelligent throughout the letter, then didn’t ask but rather told me that you would be marrying me (only caring about what my father would say, not me). And to top it all off, you told me I was to be your personal incubator while you get to have an actual job. It’s insulting, really. What if I don’t want to do that, did you even consider that? I care for you and I believe I always will but I am not in a place right now where I fancy marrying you. I think I’d rather tie the knot with one of twins or Charlie. Besides, I felt unsettling how you alluded to muggles being lesser beings. They most certainly are not, they’re just different than us. I don’t know how I can be with someone that sees a whole group of people as lesser than them.

I must not have too much respect for myself. After all, I felt all those things that I wrote in the first paragraph, yet I’m still writing to you. What terrible damage love can have to the brain. I think I know how this whole thing will turn out, yet I still hope against my better judgement that we will end up together. I will try to put this past me if you can promise to not be so cruel.

Things are the same as always in my life. Spending most of the time with Mother and Father and the rest tending to children. I think I might die of boredom. I have been thinking about becoming a Hogwarts teacher, at least it would be less degrading than playing babysitter for a bunch of toddlers. Curiously enough, I received a letter from Snape about receiving a position, not Flitwick. He liked me well enough back in school, but I definitely didn’t think he would ever think about contacting me for a teaching role. I didn’t think he ever thought much about any student that wasn’t a Slytherin. I think maybe he sees himself in me. You know I was treated pretty horribly throughout school and something tells me he might have gone through a similar experience. That aside, however, he wrote me a letter requesting my presence to a meeting in a few weeks. It’s a meeting with all the current teachers, so I’m quite nervous about it. They want to speak with me about a new class, I think, it wasn’t any sort of curriculum I was familiar with. Still, I’m heavily considering it. It would be a big step up. I am a little worried about moving out there, but I think I’ll be alright. 

I know you act like you don’t care about how your family is doing, but that’s all it is, an act. So I will at least tell you the good parts. I’m sure you’ve seen by the addresses of the letters that they’re still sending you (because they care), they have moved. The Order has been restored, we’d all love to have you there, although I don’t have much hope that you would consider joining. Even Charlie and Bill have come back and joined. They miss you and I think they’re more than a little disappointed. Ginny is dating a kid named Michael Corner, not Harry. I’m sure you’re over the moon about that. Ron and Hermione have become prefects. That’s really good news, yeah? I’m not quite sure how Ron snagged it, but he did.

I promised myself I wouldn’t talk about any more conflict with you, so I won’t even bring up what you said at Harry’s trial. Just know I’m disappointed. What, I will say, however, is that it was so cruel that you didn’t even speak with your own father once court ended. I know you knew he was there. Look, I have a really bad feeling about the future and I can’t help but fear that something bad is going to happen and you’re going to regret being such an ass to them. 

This letter was all over the place, I apologize. I just have all these emotions and you don’t seem to understand. Or if you do understand, you don’t care. I don’t know which is worse.

Take care,

Penelope

Dear Penelope, 

I apologize for my behavior in my last letter. You’re right, I was only thinking of myself. I’ve just been by myself so much that I guess I find it hard to think about what other people want. I hope you can forgive me. Truly though, I think we could reconcile easier if you met me out in London. Of course only corresponding through letters has led to a strain. 

Please brace yourself, because I know if you do not prepare for what I’m about to tell you, you will be very mad at me. I consulted with Fudge and we have decided that you shouldn’t become a teacher at Hogwarts. It’s not a good look for me and it’s safe for you. Dumbledore is off his rocker, I’m not going to allow you to be put in harm's way. Fudge has sent a letter to Hogwarts, strongly suggesting that they find a new candidate for their position. I agree that the role is important, kids need to learn, and you would have been a great teacher. But it’s not the right time for you. I know you will probably be royally pissed for a while, but you’ll get over it. I did it for your own good. I hope you will be happy to hear that I have talked to Fudge about you having a proper job in the Ministry and he agrees. He will be writing to you with an offer soon enough. All’s well that ends well, you get a safer, higher paying job. And you can be near me!

Yes, I knew that my family had moved. I hope they move back soon, it’s not safe for them there. You’re right, someone is going to get hurt. I can feel it in my bones. And of course I will be utterly inconsolable, but it will not be my fault if something happens. It will be Dumbledore’s and inadvertently, Harry’s. I would love to give my family advice, but I know they will not listen. Therefore, there’s no point in writing letters. Besides, even if I did want to write to them, I think Fudge would catch on and have someone start monitoring my mail. I trust the Ministry completely, but I still find it’s in my family’s best interests if the Ministry doesn’t know their exact going on’s.

I heard Ron became prefect. I’m very proud. I wrote him a letter, which the Ministry read (and unfortunately a few unkind edits to, but I’m sure it was for good reason), congratulating him. Unfortunately, I don’t think he’s received it. He hasn’t written back. Maybe Dumbledore has started screening letters? I’m proud of Hermione too, although I didn’t write her a letter. You seem to speak with the lot of them often, so please send her my congratulations. She’s such a smart and sweet girl, she’s a good match for Ron (I can tell he likes her). I would have preferred a Pureblood but oh well, she’s better than most muggles. Oh and speaking of people dating, yes I am very pleased that Ginny has found a nice guy that’s not Harry. 

Love, 

Percy

Percy, 

Before I write anything else, I must address your hilarious claim that Dumbledore is monitoring letters. Ron got your letter, read it, then proceeded to burn it. He found it very offensive. He’s not happy with you, so maybe don’t send him more letters.

Fred and George are still mad, more than everyone else. George invited me out last week, I think only because he knew it would get a rise out of you. Fred’s the maddest of them all, as you know so well from his letters, but he’s with Angelina Johnson, so he couldn’t take me on the “jealousy date”. I don’t really fancy George, don’t worry, and I don’t think he fancies me. I must admit, however, that it was a nice time. It was a welcome change to listen to someone talk to me about their interests instead of being obsessed with a job. It was even more welcome that he asked me questions back and seemed to actually care about my responses. My favorite thing, though, was going out with someone that cared so much for their family. Someone that not only understood romantic love, but also platonic and familial love. I’d been missing that part of you for a while. But like I said, I don’t fancy him. I didn’t even let him kiss me. I feel guilty about it all, of course, I’d like to come down to London and try to get things in our relationship to run smoothly again. 

Also, yes, I am very upset that you had that letter written to Hogwarts. You totally crossed a line and if I had any balls, I would have broken up with you over it. But alas, I really do want to make it work. This is another thing that I think we need to work on together. In London. Please tell me your thoughts.

With care,

 Penelope

Dear Penelope,

Literally, what the fuck? I saw red when I read your letter. You. Went. Out. On. A. Date. With. My. Brother? And the little traitor tried to kiss you? I had half a mind to challenge him to a duel. But you’re right, he’s just trying to get me to act out and he will not get that out of me. There are so many problems with our relationship right now and I cannot bear to let you go, so we must meet and work things out immediately. And I’m not coming home, so you must come here. I’ve taken a week off at the Ministry, please arrive here as soon as you receive this letter. I will not be bested by the likes of George Weasley and a few other misunderstandings I may have thrown your way. 

No need to write back,

Percy

Dear Percy, 

I am so glad we had that meeting in London! I really do feel like we’ve fixed things. It makes me so happy that you have agreed not to be so unkind with your words in the future. And as promised, I have decreased contact with your family and all the other members of the Order. George has written me about a dozen letters since then, checking up on me and filling me in on what’s going on with your family. But as promised, I have not written back. If I expect you to uphold your part of the agreement, I must hold myself to the same standard.

I think I will take that secretary job Fudge offered me. It’s not all that you made it out to be, but at least I can be near you. I’m still too wary to marry you, after all it hasn’t been too long since we were falling apart, but I think it would be nice to be physically closer to you. I’ll see what I can do in terms of flats, since you’re too prudish to lend me room in yours.

Love you lots,

Penelope

Dear Penelope,

I don’t have much time to write at the moment, I’m very busy, so please excuse the short letter. I, too, am glad we are doing better. It was impacting my efficiency at work and I could not have that. I’m just glad there’s no more Fred and George, they were trying to hijack your mind and make it theirs. Besides, I have heard from more than one female that has come into contact with them, that they are basically a pair of incubi. I know you think I’m dramatic when I say that, but those two boys have turned evil, I know it. I should have seen the clear signs. It was so obvious from the time that they were little boys, chasing poor Ron with spiders.

Thank Godric that you are coming to join me at the Ministry! I can keep a close eye on you there, make sure you’re safe. I know the job isn’t glorious, but not everyone is as fortunate as me. You have to work your way up. I know you’ll have a very important job in no time. And I never said I wouldn’t let you live with me by the way, I said that I didn’t want your father to become cross with me. You really shouldn’t call me a prude, or do you not remember what all went in London when you came to visit? I didn’t think it was quite that forgettable, but I’ll just have to remind you when you move here.

Love, 

Percy

Dear Percy,

I’m sorry for the distance between letters. I meant to write, I really did, but everything went to shit here. I know I said I would distance myself from your family, but George wrote to me and said that your father is in the hospital. So now I’m back to semi-living with them. Did you not read your mother’s letter about it, Percy? She marked it “urgent” on the envelope. Your father was utterly distressed that you didn’t even write, much less visit him. It made his recovery harder and longer. Don’t you still care even a little bit? What if he had passed, wouldn’t you have felt so guilty?

Also, your mother collapsed and fell into a fit of tears when you sent your Christmas jumper back. Why didn’t you just keep it? It would have spared her feelings, even if you think you’re too good for the sweaters now. She made me a sweater, I loved it. But oh well, please think about the repercussions of your actions on others. You’re making it very hard on all of us. Also, Fred wants me to let you know that he wants to bring back drawing and quartering just for you. George is more straight to the point, vowing to castrate you if you two ever cross paths again (by the way, they both thought your incubus comment was very funny, I think it inflated their ego).

I know you are on the Ministry’s side, saying that Voldemort is NOT back, which is horseshit and you know it. But you do know who attacked your father, yes? Surely that should be enough proof for you. You’re very smart, why are you letting an institution think for you?

With peace and love,

Penelope

Dear Penelope, 

I am slightly dismayed that you didn’t keep up with your end of our agreement, going back to speak with my family. I do understand, though, my father’s attack was a shock and could have ended tragically. I know he’s better now, though, so please cease contact again. 

On a similar note, yes, I did read Mum’s letter and know that he was in the hospital. I sent flowers anonymously, if that means anything to you. And I kept tabs on him from the Ministry. If I felt that things were going downhill and he wasn’t going to make it, I would have visited. But he was fine, so it’s not a big deal. Maybe he will learn to not poke his head where it doesn’t need poking from now on.

As for the sweater, it’s not that I didn’t want to keep it. I love her sweaters, I wear some of the old one sometimes. But keeping the sweater would have sent a completely wrong message and given her false hope. So really, sending it back was a selfless act.

I know you want me to say that You-Know-Who is back. But you just don’t understand. I represent the Ministry now. What they say goes. That doesn’t mean I don’t have my own thoughts, it simply means that I stand with them.

Just wanted to remind you that you’re very beautiful and I miss your kind heart. I can’t wait for you to move here.

Love,

Percy

Percy,

I am most certainly NOT moving to be with you in London after the stunt you pulled. Betraying Dumbledore and holding Harry in place whilst being questioned by Fudge? What a dick move. I don’t know what I expected, you provided me all the warning signs. I guess that when it mattered, you’d do the right thing. Now I see how wrong I was. I need some time to myself, and you need to think over in your heart why you thought it was okay to do what you did. You just better be glad that Fudge sent you out before you got smacked the fuck up by Dumbledore.

From the top of my head to the bottom of my toes, fuck you

Penelope

Dear Penelope, 

This is the fifth letter I’ve sent to you in a row with no response, please answer. I know I shouldn’t have done what I did and I’m sorry. I’m embarrassed, really I am, but I’ve dug myself too deep. I miss you, I miss Ginny, I miss Charlie, I miss Bill, I miss Ron, I miss Mum and Dad. I even miss Fred and George. But it’s too late. I wish I had seen it before. They were right, you were right. I can’t let them know that. I feel so ashamed. I want to help them, but I also want to never bother them again. I saw You-Know-Who in the Ministry. I know all along that he was back, but I kept denying it for my job. But now I don’t have my family and I don’t have you, so my job is all I have. Please know that anything you see from me from this moment forward doesn’t represent my heart. You’re right, I don’t remember how many letters ago it was, but you said I wasn’t the person you fell in love with. You couldn’t have hit the nail on the head any better. There’s barely any left of that Percy, just his shell. So really, I shouldn’t be talking to you at all. I’m not the person you committed to. But I still love you. It’s total wishful thinking that I can have you back, but hoping is the only thing that keeps me from going insane. Bill wrote me a letter saying that he was engaged. I don’t want to face my family but I’ll go if I can see you.

Love, Percy

Percy, 

I felt like I should write you one last letter because despite myself, I still care. I want to give you closure. It’s clear to me that you’re never coming home, which is clear symbolism that you are never going to do the right thing. You said it yourself in your letters, you’re digging your heels in and standing by the ministry. You’re a filthy coward. 

Yes, Bill is getting married in a few months. We’re all very busy with preparations, it seems like that’s the only good thing that’s happening around here. You have an invitation, of course, but you shouldn’t come if you just want to see me. If I see you, I will make a scene and there will be more than just mashed parsnips being thrown at you (yes, Fred and George told me about how you visited just for the benefit of the Ministry. It’s pathetic, really). Your mum is convinced you will show up to the wedding and everything will be magically better. I know you better than that. I wish I was in blissful ignorance and thought you still loved us all, but you don’t. You’re not going to be able to get your head out of your ass until it’s one of us that’s laying lifeless somewhere because of the monsters of people that the Ministry have allowed to roam for so long. I know where you stand and you know where I stand. So there’s nothing else to say.

I’m sending back all the things of yours that I have. You should receive them all with this letter. Please write back if I missed anything.

Sincerely, 

Penelope Clearwater

[knuffled]

discipline & punish - chapter four

here it is and it is literally a wall of very explicit smut so please don’t read if that’s not your thing. thank you for reading, and i hope you enjoy it! 

chapter four - virginal delights

Annabeth looked up from her blueprints when she heard the sound of the bell tolling, signalling it was time for dinner. It was dark outside her office window now, even though it had been early in the afternoon when she’d initially sat down to work. With a sigh, she made some final notes on a scrap piece of paper before standing up and leaving her office.

The wound in her abdomen throbbed with pain as she did, just like it had for the past two weeks since she’d been discharged from the hospital. It wasn’t as excruciating as it once was, but she still hissed and gingerly ran her fingers along the top of the gauze pad taped over her stitches in a vain attempt to soothe the pain.

Annabeth had had her fair share of injuries over the years – it came with the territory of being a demigod, after all – but it was still frustrating to live in constant pain from the moment she woke in the morning till she mercifully fell asleep at night. The only moments of reprieve during her day came as she worked when her sheer focus kept the pain at bay.

Her boots clacked against the cobblestone road as she made her towards the dining pavilion. The path took her through the plaza at the heart of New Athens, and she took a moment to stop and appreciate the fountain, now that it was fully functional. It was made from marble, depicting three dryads standing in the center as water poured out of the vases they carried. The rush of falling water was music to her ears, and she felt a swell of pride course through her.

There was a familiar face sitting on a bench, looking at the fountain. Annabeth made her way over with a big grin on her face.

“Dominick!” she called.

The son of Hephaestus looked up and smiled when he saw Annabeth approaching. “Look who’s back from the dead,” he said.

Annabeth rolled her eyes. “You’re being awfully dramatic. It was only a flesh wound.”

“A damn foolish thing is what it was,” Dominick said, snorting. “I’m glad you’re recovering.”

“Just because I’m injured doesn’t mean I’m not working on new blue prints to terrorize you with,” Annabeth teased, sitting beside him.

Dominick rubbed his beard, a disgruntled expression on his face, and grumbled, “You should be resting.”

“But that would be boring.”

He huffed a laugh and said, “Well, it’s good to know that near death experiences haven’t changed you.”

Annabeth shrugged. “I’ve been through worse.”

The look in Dominick’s eyes softened. “I know you have.”

Annabeth cleared her throat and shot him a small smile of gratitude. “Thanks for taking over while I was out with the fountain and everything. I appreciate it.”

Dominick waved his hand dismissively.

“It was nothing. If anything, I’m hoping this experience shows you the value of delegating. It’s foolish to try and build Rome on your own,” he said. “You should rely on us more. We all want New Athens to succeed as much as you do.”

Annabeth laughed and said, “You’ve gotten far more eloquent than I remember. What ever happened to being the strong and silent type?”

He shrugged and said, “This isn’t the time to be silent.”

There was a pause before Annabeth said, “Thank you for what you said. I’ll try to make a more conscious effort to not micromanage everything from now on.”

The bench squeaked once Dominick stood up with a grin on his face. “That’s all I ask for,” he said. “I know you have to head to the dining pavilion, so I don’t want to keep you any longer. Keep me posted on how you’re doing and if there’s anything I can do to help.”

Annabeth nodded and waited a few minutes after Dominick’s departure before continuing on her way, but the warm glow in her stomach faded rapidly the closer she got to the pavilion. She found herself clenching and unclenching her fists, dread welling up inside her, and by the time she arrived at the pavilion her heart was almost jack-hammering in her chest. Immediately, her eyes scanned all the tables in search of him without her consent until she spotted Percy sitting alone, like always, at one of the tables at the edges of the pavilion, much to her dismay.

Not for the first time, she cursed herself for taking on the mantle of Camp Director. Her position made her presence at the pavilion necessary during lunch and dinner times. Honestly, Annabeth wanted nothing more than to retreat to the confines of her apartment so she could whip up a salad, maybe pour herself a glass of bourbon, and plop down on her favorite armchair, swaddled in blankets, so she could watch something mindless on Netflix.

Although she would never admit it aloud, Annabeth had done her damndest to stay the fuck away from Percy after her discharge from the hospital. The night he had snuck into her hospital room had only cemented the truth that she could not be around him if she didn’t want to do something stupid, something she would regret.

In fact, since her discharge, Annabeth had only spoken to him once directly to discuss his living arrangements. She briefly toyed with the idea of letting him stay in the Hermes cabin until he was claimed before realizing that was a recipe for disaster, so she had instead instructed him to stay at the Big House until then.

However, because of her position as director she was forced to see Percy twice a day for lunch and dinner, and of course that meant that obscene scent of his would unerringly find a way to waft over to her like the world’s slowest heat seeking missile. Every single day was a battle as her willpower wrestled her growing urges, and each day her willpower grew closer to losing. It had gotten to the point where Annabeth could no longer recall what she had had for lunch, let alone what it tasted like, even earlier that same day because every ounce of her focus was on repressing her growing obsession with Percy.

There was something about him that she found irresistible, something that eroded her self-control. On more than one occasion, she found herself staring out her office window, observing him as he sat at the beach and watched the waves lick the shore for hours at a time. He rarely spent time around other campers, but, once or twice, she had seen Percy coaxing the Naiads in the canoe lake into conversing with him.

Every time she caught herself staring, frustration and shame would bubble in the pit of her stomach, and it just got worse with each passing day. Percy, on the other hand, seemed blissfully unaware of Annabeth’s growing anguish. He would just sit alone and finish his meal quickly before disappearing again while Annabeth was forced to give herself mental pep talks to keep from fucking his brains out in front of everyone in the dining pavilion.

Tonight was no different unfortunately. After Annabeth took her seat, she had to push all thoughts of him out of her mind so she could nod politely when the other campers spoke to her, a terse smile on her face. A son of Ares asked her about organizing a game of capture the flag for that weekend after a daughter of Demeter inquired about the logistics of opening a city garden.

Somehow, in the midst of that bombardment, Annabeth noticed a daughter of Hermes walking towards Percy’s table with a determined expression on her face. Annabeth ground her teeth together and fought the urge to intercept her and turn her away. Recently, she had begun to notice the wayward glances and hushed conversations the female campers had amongst themselves as they stared at Percy, like wolves looking at a piece of meat.

It was the scent, Annabeth assumed. If it was strong enough to threaten her self-control, none of the other girls in camp stood a chance.

Annabeth tuned out whoever was talking to her and watched Percy turn to the girl after she tapped his shoulder, a look of mild bemusement on his face. She couldn’t hear what they said to each other, not this far away, but Annabeth found herself digging her nails into her palm as she watched them.

Percy was hers. No one else was allowed to have him.

Eventually, the girl bowed her head before returning to her table with a somewhat dejected look on her face, much to Annabeth’s satisfaction, but the feeling faded when Annabeth noticed Percy staring at her. When their eyes met, Percy raised his eyebrows, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips, which made Annabeth’s skin heat up and prickle, knowing she’d been caught red-handed.

The rest of dinner passed by in a blur. Percy vanished at some indeterminate point in the night, but Annabeth wasn’t sure whether or not to be grateful for that. On her way back to her apartment, Annabeth wracked her brain for solutions to neutralize that ridiculous scent of his – it was what threatened her most of all. Without it, she stood a much better chance of maintaining her self-control.

With a sigh, Annabeth checked her mailbox before taking the elevator up to her floor. Perhaps a child of Hecate could cast a spell on her to make her immune to the scent or maybe a child of Hephaestus could build a contraption that dispelled it. The method was irrelevant as long as it achieved its intended effect.

Once she arrived at her floor, Annabeth was about to make her way down the hallway to her room when she froze at the sight of Percy leaning against her front door. How did he know where she lived? One hand immediately curled around the hilt of her dagger as she stared at him, heart racing in her chest. At the very least, with this much distance between them she would have enough time to react if he chose to attack.

“What’re you doing here, Percy?” she asked carefully.

Percy pushed off the door and stepped towards her. Annabeth had to quell her instinct to step away from him and forced herself to hold her ground instead.

“I think you know exactly why I’m here, Annabeth,” Percy said softly.

Annabeth licked her lips and tried frantically to formulate a response, but nothing was coming to mind. At this proximity, she was exposed to the full brunt of that maddening scent of his, and it was rapidly eroding what little was left of her self-control.

“Do you want to explain why you’re trying so hard to avoid me? You’re doing a very bad job of it though by the way. Don’t think I haven’t noticed all those times you’ve stolen glances at me during dinner,” Percy said.

“You know why. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”

Percy smirked and said, “I still want to hear you say it.”

Annabeth narrowed her eyes. “There’s no point – nothing can happen between us.”

Percy raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly is stopping you?”

“Common fucking sense for one thing,” Annabeth snorted. “Also, I don’t fucking trust you. In case you don’t remember, you nearly killed me, for Christ’s sake!”

“I gave you my word-”

“And I’m just supposed to believe you?” Annabeth hissed. “All because you gave your word?”

“Yes, that’s the whole point of making a promise,” Percy said slowly, like she had said something incredibly stupid.

Annabeth resisted the urge to scream. “Look, I’m twenty four years old – to me, you’re practically a child, so there’s nothing to discuss here. You need to leave. Now.”

Percy met her gaze for a few seconds before shrugging. “If that’s what you want.”

For a few seconds, Percy stood unmoving and matched her gaze. He wasn’t backing down. The harsh fluorescent light in the hall hummed like a droning bee, adding to the tension between them. Annabeth desperately hoped he wouldn’t continue to argue with her – she wasn’t sure she had the willpower to refuse him again, a realization that only served to inspire more self-disgust.

He’s only 18. He’s the same age as Bobby and Matthew. Send him away. Why the fuck are you still considering this? What the fuck is wrong with you?

It was hard to say how long they both stood there, holding their ground, but eventually Percy shrugged and turned to leave. In the next instant, Annabeth’s body moved faster than her brain could think. There was thud as she pressed Percy against her front door and she surged up to kiss him. His lips were softer than she would have expected, his inexperience showing in the awkward way he kissed her back, but that only served to inflame Annabeth’s lust.

She would be his first and she was going to ruin him.

The thought sent a wave of heat rushing through her. Annabeth pressed her knee in between his legs and tangled her fingers in his hair possessively. She jerked his head to the side, harder than she should have, and sucked bruises along the column of his neck, coaxing a strangled groan out of him.

“Shhh,” Annabeth murmured, voice slurring as she covered his mouth with her hand.

Percy’s hand scrabbled for purchase against the door but found none, making Annabeth grin. Served him right, flaunting that intolerable scent of his at every opportunity, tormenting her for weeks.

Annabeth slid a hand beneath the hem of his jeans and palmed his cock roughly, which was already straining against his boxers, and delighted in the way his legs trembled from the effort of keeping him upright.

Jesus, she was already so wet, and they’d barely even started.

They both stumbled into her dark apartment when she somehow managed to prize the door open, kicking it shut behind her. Her fumbling fingers scrambled to find the light switch just in time for her to crowd Percy against the door and claim his lips again. Annabeth tangled her fingers in his hair and cradled to the back of his head, pulling him down to deepen the kiss.

She was fortunate that Percy was such a quick learner. Within minutes, he found the sensitive spot behind her left ear that always made her go crazy as well as how much her body responded when he softly traced the curve of her spine with his fingers. Annabeth had armed herself with a better idea of Percy’s preferences as well, noting how he liked having his hair pulled and when she clawed at his upper back, between his shoulder blades.

It’s hard to say how long they stayed there, exploring with their lips and tongue, trying to coax reactions out of the other like they were sparring again. Percy was already beginning to resist the control Annabeth had initially claimed, but she’d expected as much. She’d known from the moment they’d traded blows in the hospital that Percy would not be tamed so easily, but that was exactly what Annabeth craved. To her, there was nothing better than forcing a strong will to submit.

They stepped away from each other for a moment in an effort to steady their heavy breathing. A grin split across Annabeth’s face once she saw how debauched Percy looked. He was gorgeous like this: hair mussed, pupils blown wide with desire, lips swollen, neck littered with red bites. His body was so responsive, more so than anyone Annabeth had ever been with.

Annabeth pulled him by the hand towards the living room, knowing they wouldn’t make it to the bedroom, and watched hungrily as Percy desperately shucked his shirt. She got rid of hers as well, leaving her in a bra and jeans, while Percy threw his jeans into some dark corner of her living room. Annabeth pushed him onto the sofa and climbed atop his lap, her hands slowly smoothing down his chest. The hunger in Percy’s gaze as he looked up at her while pressing a kiss to the valley of her breasts, his pupils completely dilated, sent a shiver down her spine.

“This is your last chance,” Annabeth said, breathing heavily. “If you want to stop, now is the time.”

Annabeth could feel the low rumble of Percy’s laughter through his chest. “What in the world makes you think I want to stop?” he asked, lips brushing against her breasts.

Annabeth framed his face in her hands and stared into his eyes. “I have to hear you say it. Tell me you want this.”

Instead of answering, Percy teased one of her breasts out from under her bra and sucked, making Annabeth bite her lip in an effort to keep from crying out.

“Percy,” she groaned, unable to mask her exasperation.

“Fine, I want this,” he said, a challenge glinting in his eyes. “Happy?”

Annabeth narrowed her eyes. She would get rid of that arrogant attitude in due time.

She rutted against him and smirked when she felt him harden under her. Percy stared at her, slack-jawed, as she continued mercilessly rolling her hips against him. As desperate as she was to get rid of her pants, she wanted to make Percy suffer more.

His hands reached for her hips in an attempt to stop her, but Annabeth swatted his hands away. If she wasn’t so drunk with lust, she might’ve punished him for even trying to stop her, but tonight she was too far gone to bother with dominance. That could wait for next time.

Annabeth bit and tugged at Percy’s earlobe, eliciting a broken moan that went straight to her cunt. The little noises and whimpers he made stoked her lust for him to a feverish degree.

She stood up and desperately stripped out of her pants, unable to delay it any longer. Her bra and underwear were next to go. Percy discarded his own boxers, and Annabeth took the chance to study him, now that he was fully naked, visually tracing the beautiful lines of his body and the lean muscle he’d formed.

Annabeth pushed him down onto the sofa and climbed over his face, smirking when Percy’s hands instantly went to support her hips.

She tangled her fingers in his hair again. “Lick,” she commanded.

A broken moan escaped her lips as Percy dragged the flat of his tongue along the outside of her cunt. Fuck, that felt good. He repeated the motion a few more times, stoking the fire inside her higher and higher, but it still wasn’t enough.

“Use your tongue inside too,” Annabeth instructed.

When Percy obeyed, Annabeth’s eyelids fluttered shut, and her grip on his hair tightened. It was probably hurting him, but she was too far gone to care. For his first time eating someone out, Percy was doing better than she’d expected. It didn’t take her long to settle on a rhythm and start riding his face. As she grew closer to the edge, Annabeth removed a hand from his hair and rubbed her clit to provide the final boost she needed to cum.

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” Annabeth moaned.

Percy’s hands wrapped around her ass and pulled her closer down onto his mouth as her thighs clamped down on either side of his face. Annabeth jerked hard on Percy’s hair, arching her back, a long moan escaping her as she came. She held onto the sofa’s frame to maintain her balance while her hips spasmed as she rode out the aftershocks of her orgasm.

Once they were done, she moved and sat back atop Percy’s stomach and tried to steady her heavy breathing. Annabeth could feel Percy’s cock straining against the curve of her ass and relished in how dark Percy’s eyes were.

“Not bad for your first time,” Annabeth said, panting.

Percy rolled his eyes and sat up, pressing their chests together. She could feel the outline of his scars against her skin, and she was sure that he could feel her own as well. Neither of them were conscious about – if anything it was a testament to how strong they were as individuals. Percy��s fingers ghosted over the gauze pad taped to her abdomen.

“You sure you’re not hurting yourself?” Percy asked, smirking. “This might be too hard on your elderly body.”

Annabeth narrowed her eyes and shoved him half-heartedly. “I’m not that old, you asshole,” she grumbled.

When Percy laughed, Annabeth could feel it through her skin. “Then does that mean you have enough stamina to keep going?”

Annabeth opened her purse and fished out a condom and tore it with her teeth. “Men shouldn’t talk about stamina.”

She reached behind her and rolled the condom onto his cock before wrapping her hand around it, smirking when Percy’s eyes fluttered shut.

“They never do last very long – most of them are only good for one round.”

Annabeth slowly jerked him off and leaned in to whisper in his ear. “I doubt you’ll even last five minutes inside me.”

Percy glowered at her. “Is that a challenge?”

“Challenge implies you stand a chance of winning, which you clearly don’t.”

A growl rumbled through Percy’s chest, making Annabeth’s smile widen. Good, he was getting worked up. Annabeth found that she often got the best sex out of men once she provoked them.

Percy squeezed her ass hard before he lifted her above his cock and thrust into her. They both groaned in unison and desperately pressed up against each other.

God, it felt so good to be filled.

Annabeth brushed his hair out of his eyes and pressed a messy kiss to his lips. They kissed languidly, their tongues dancing around one another, as she got adjusted to his size. Then, without warning, Annabeth raised herself up and sank back down onto him.

“Fuck,” she muttered.

Percy’s grip on her hips tightened when she circled her hips on her way down. He dropped a kiss to one of her breasts before reaching up to knead the other one, making Annabeth groan. She scratched at his upper back, etching red lines into his skin, and slowly began to ride him.

He managed to work a particularly broken moan out of her when he tugged on a nipple with his teeth. She could feel him smirking against her skin as he sucked it again to soothe the sting.

Annabeth pushed him onto the couch so that she could accelerate her pace, partially to prove he couldn’t last five minutes but mostly because she needed more. Percy tried to sit up again, but she stayed low on him and held him down by the shoulders, sucking a bruise under his chin and making him grunt.

She could feel heat pooling inside her already, the promise of another orgasm on the horizon, and chased after it with reckless abandon, setting a punishing rhythm atop him. The maddening scent of his was stronger now than it had ever been before and seemed to egg her on to go faster and faster. The lewd sounds of them fucking filled her half-dark living room, and the sofa squeaked beneath them, keeping time with her pace.

Percy’s body stiffened a few minutes later, which spurred Annabeth on faster. “Aah, I-I’m gonna,” he stammered.

Annabeth bit his earlobe, pulling with her teeth, before whispering into his ear, “Do it. Show me how you cum.”

Percy wrapped a hand behind Annabeth’s head to anchor himself, his fingers knotting in her hair, as he released a strangled groan.

“Annabeth,” he moaned.

Annabeth felt his cock grow inside her before Percy froze, his eyes screwing shut as his back arched up off the sofa. He was almost completely silent as he came, but Annabeth could feel his entire body quivering beneath her. She’d never seen anything as beautiful as Percy’s face contorted by pleasure, completely slaw-jawed, weaving his fingers into her hair like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to Earth.

The sight itself was enough to send Annabeth over the edge as well. She bit down on his shoulder to keep from crying out, which made his hips jerked upward involuntarily. Her fingernails cut into his upper back, leaving red crescent shaped marks in his skin, while her cunt clenched around his cock desperately.

When she finally came, Annabeth’s entire body felt completely drained, leaving her panting atop Percy’s chest. Annabeth deeply breathed in the smell of sweat, sex, and Percy’s troublesome odor scent that hung in the air. She felt Percy’s hand brush aside the strands of hair that lay matted against her forehead, almost tenderly, and felt her face flush.

Annabeth looked up at him, her head still flat against his chest, and smiled softly when he met her eyes.

“I think that was more than five minutes,” she said coyly. “Well done.”

“Strangely enough, I didn’t really have enough time to check my watch in the middle of all that. Funny, huh?” Percy said.

Annabeth pressed a kiss to his chest and said, “Given how hard I just fucked your brains out, I’m a little insulted that you can still mouth off to me.”

Percy’s ensuing laughter brought a smile to Annabeth’s lips. “Are you always this arrogant?”

“It’s not arrogance if it’s true,” Annabeth said, shrugging. “I fucked you well, and you know it.”

Percy blinked. “That’s fair.”

They lay there in silence for a while. It had been a long time since Annabeth had had such a good fuck. Alyssa and her other partners were fun, sure, but there was just something about Percy. Already her mind raced with all sorts of possibilities.

They hadn’t gotten into any of the good stuff tonight, which fine considering it was Percy’s first time and all, but going forward, Annabeth wasn’t going to be this easy on him. Images flooded into her mind of him bound and blindfolded, sobbing as she edged him for hours, begging her to let him cum. Images of him with his hands tied behind his back, that cute ass of his pointing straight up in the air, red and ready for her, littered with welts from her riding crop, as she fastened her strap-on.

Fuck.

Annabeth bit her lip and rubbed her thighs together discreetly, already feeling heat pool in her stomach. She looked up and noticed Percy’s eyelids were drooping as he resisted the urge to fall asleep. Annabeth traced his scars with her fingers as a small bit of disappointment arose in her – she really would’ve liked to go for a second round, but it was understandable given that it was his first time.

“Not tonight. Next time,” she promised herself. “Next time, I’ll get to have some real fun with him.”

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E93 (February 4, 2020)

This week’s guests are Ashley Johnson and Taliesin Jaffe!

Announcement: Thursday, February 27′s episode in Chicago will be an in-canon live episode! VIP tickets go on sale tomorrow at 10 AM Central, and regular tickets will be on sale February 6 at 10 AM Central as well. The World of Critical Role, the new nonfiction book, is available for preorder now! All Work No Play season 2 is upon us: VOD for episode one is available now, up on YouTube on Thursday!

Episode 93: Misery Loves Company (which is SUCH a good title)

Stats for this week’s episode: this is the first episode where Caduceus and Jester have both cast Spirit Guardians in the same battle. Yasha has collected six floral pieces and a scrap of the Laughing Hand’s cloak since we met her. Jester purchased the Dust of Deliciousness from Pumat 62 episodes ago, or 186 Exandrian days. (That’s 22 days longer than Jester has had Sprinkle.)

Reactions to the cupcake moment? Neither of them had any idea Jester had something up her sleeve; they both bought it right up to the end. Taliesin thought the hand offer was just another self-sacrificial one-up, and Ashley knew it was too extreme but was still worried because of Jester’s impulsiveness. Ashley mentions how cool it was that Jester used Modify Memory in such a positive way.

Taliesin was trying to think of something that would be “appropriately sad enough” to offer to appease Matt. “Clay was thinking of offering to never go home again. So still save everything, but just be like, I agree that once it’s up it’s fine.”

Ashley on making a deal to bring Zuala back to life: “I love how everyone assumes I was thinking of Zuala.” Not making the deal was a moment of growth for Yasha, “but I think bringing back--- she’s lost a lot of people, and so I think it’s constantly on her mind, of maybe life wouldn’t be so hard or so bad if I could have some of these people I love back. Where we see some of the growth in Yasha was that she was able to put some of that aside, knowing they were there for Nott.”

Taliesin is asked whether Percy’s yelling in the back of his head during scenes like this: “There was no good way out of this problem, so I didn’t have [Percy] screaming at me that there was an obvious or easy solution.”

Ashley on Yasha’s offer getting rejected because Yasha was already too miserable: “I think, weirdly, there was some comfort in that, of knowing that maybe it couldn’t get any worse. I think it was almost good for her to hear that: you’re the bottom of the barrel right now. I do think she’s slowly finding happiness with her friends and slowly getting comfortable with those relationships again.” She highlights Caleb as “a companion in misery”. She’s growing and becoming more comfortable. “It’s a really good group of people, and they all do genuinely love each other, and I think this past game kind of showed that to her.”

On Nott’s deal, Taliesin: “Ahh, we wouldn’t have let that happen.” Ashley: “I have some thoughts on that.” Taliesin: “Yeah, that’s some RP stuff that may come up later. I do understand and respect how Sam plays Nott, as hyper-volatile, as part of the goblinization of Nott is to make her inappropriately emotionally volatile towards things.” 

There’s a brief foray into the legality of ferrets as pets in the state of California, as you do. Kindergarten Cop and Bunnicula are cited.

Ashley: “I don’t know how invested Yasha is necessarily in this war. Because of how she grew up and was raised, there’s other things to her that are more important.” Taliesin: “Clay thinks Nott needs therapy.”

Cosplay of the Week: an amazing Grog! (DressedUpMegs on Instagram, photo by LMShoots)

On Clay’s reaction to the hag: “He’s not a fan” of someone dealing in the changing of fate. He would have been okay with having to kill her if it came down to it. “It’s not necromancy, but it’s next-door to it.” But he was trying to take his cues from everyone else. “She was fuckin’ scary. Too many elbows.”

Matt told Brian after the session that he would have cliffhangered the fight if it had come to that, since it was likely to be a substantial endeavor. (Matt posted a picture of the map on Twitter!)

It was tough for Yasha to resist the urge to just jump in and attack the hag while they were one-on-one. “I’m not at the point yet to make an executive decision for the whole party, but whew, me, I was ready to kill her the second I walked in. I think Yasha was ready to go, but I think also it showed growth as well that she didn’t do it and walked out the door.”

Caduceus interpreted the “less intensity” statement Matt made when he asked about his family at the menagerie was that not everyone’s there yet. Caduceus was also embarrassed that he had to ask; he saw it as a sign of cowardice and a moment of weakness.

Yasha’s thoughts on Beau’s offer: “Yasha wasn’t about to let that happen after she finally just got back with the group. I was like, yeah, you’re not about to leave once I just got back to you. I didn’t necessarily see it as one-upping each other, but I think all of us were saying, no, I’m not going to let you do that, I’ll do something.”

Marisha tries to sneak out stealthily and Henry barks at her, forcing a cameo!

Marisha: “It makes super sense in Beau’s headspace where she is, and Beau likes controlling situations. Beau’s in a bit of a fucked-up headspace. Parents, man.”

On Jester leaning into the more serious side of the Trickery domain versus the small pranks, Taliesin: “I feel like it’s all a grand scheme, personally.” Ashley: “We don’t fully know what happened in there yet. It’s so hard not to be impressed by it.” Taliesin: “So hard not to be impressed.” They’re both pretty sure there will be consequences that Matt will spring on them in forty or so episodes...

Fan Art of the Week: Jester and the hag! (CaitMayArt on Twitter)

What was it like seeing the Traveler in physical form? Ashley: “Mixed feelings about that, for sure. I think Yasha’s very-- the relationship that Jester has with the Traveler is very intriguing to Yasha because there’s an intimacy and a closeness there that she finds very strange. But also thinks the Traveler is-- something’s up.” Taliesin: “It’s a little weird, man. Little weird.”

Why did Yasha ask Caleb about who he loves? “I think she asked him because she cares about him a lot, and I think they’ve obviously both had this weird connection of recognizing they’ve both been through things that are tough. Tough is obviously putting it lightly. What I’ve noticed in playing the game, and in the RP that seems to pop up, is that-- I don’t mean this to sound, I don’t know. She definitely cares a lot for these people, and about their well-being. And I think there’s something in her that knows how suffering feels, and seeing someone else dealing with it is too hard for her. With Caleb, she really cares about him, and sees he cares about someone, at least how I’ve taken it-- whether or not we mean the same person is interesting, because Liam and I haven’t even talked about this. But I think it’s one of those things where she knows what she’d been through with Zuala. I’m trying to figure out how to dance around this. She said it because she cares about him and wants him to be happy. It came out of care and wanting something good for him.”

Does Cad feel like his plans are getting overridden by the group? “I think ‘plans’ is a bold word. No, he’s not bothered by that. He’s got no particular problem with action or inaction. Percy would dwell on something like that. Clay doesn’t really-- he’s perfectly content to be like, oh, someone else had an idea, okay. He’s perfectly fine if other people have a thing to do, then, yeah, he has no ego about it.”

[mertronus]

Secret Mission - Chapter 8 (Epilogue)

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who read and gave feedback on my first fic, I appreciate you all so much and now truly know the power of commenting on others fics when I read them. (I tended to usually leave a review but now more than ever I definitely will! Your reviews really lit up my little heart!)

Here's the conclusion, tie up some loose ends...and let's not forget, Hermione had a secret of her own didn't she?

****

"So," Hermione said softly, "Harry tracked down the two witnesses who heard McLaggen?" She was lying in Ron's childhood bed with him, his orange Chudley Canons blanket draped haphazardly over their glistening bare bodies as she listened to him recount the events of the morning. They were entwined in an intimate post-coital embraced as her delicate, ink-stained fingers toyed wit his long, calloused fingers lazily - almost as if they were conducting a slow, mesmerizing dance in mid-air. Ron's return followed immediately by the wedding, reception and basically spending the entire day celebrating the newlyweds with family meant they did not get a moment alone until they retired to Ron's bedroom after the festivities were over.

But, they did save the actual catching up for after Hermione properly welcomed Ron home, and he showed her just how much he missed her. In the afterglow came the questions and explanations.

"Yup," Ron said enthusiastically. "I don't know how he did it, but he found them and brought them into the Ministry to speak to Robards and a member of the Wizengamot. They told them everything they heard McLaggen saying, including the way he was talking about you."

"I can't believe he said those foul things," Hermione said in disgust, clutching the blanket to her chest as if the vile man was in the room at that very moment. "It feels...violating, the way he was looking at me. So to hear what he said?" She shuddered and Ron pulled her close, kissing her temple.

"I know love," he said, his voice low. "But he can't come anywhere near you. And he won't if he knows what's good for him." Hermione leaned into her husband, grateful for the way he made her feel safe. Ron kept his arms around her as he continued recounting the events of the morning. "And the great thing is, the witch from the Wizengamot agreed that he was out of line. She seemed like a right prude witch, probably even a bit of a - what'd you call it? Feminist?" Hermione nodded. "Yeah, so she was as offended as if McLaggen said them to her! She told Robards that it was her opinion that I acted accordingly - as any doting husband should act in defense of his wife - and that I should be released immediately. Her words exactly," he chuckled. "Robards still wrote me up, as a warning, but no further action will be taken."

"Oh Ron that's wonderful!"

"I know, isn't it? It also helped that the witnesses both stated that I did not actually use my wand on McLaggen, like the bloody tosser claims I did, and that they did not see me have one drink the entire time I was in the Leaky. Harry always pulls through for me." He smiled. "We always pull through for each other, really."

"Harry is amazing. Ginny too. Your entire family." She smiled and propped herself up on her elbow hovering over him slightly. "I'm so in love with your family Ron. I've barely been with them for 24 hours and yet...I can't explain it. I feel like this is home. More so than my own home has ever felt. I love my parents, but being here...I can't explain it."

Ron raised his hand to rest on her cheek, his thumb running lightly along the corner of her lip. "You don't have to explain, I get it. And I'm so happy you feel that way." He looked at her for a moment then remembered another important piece of information that was lost in the shuffle of the day. He sat up and rested against the headboard and grinned. "Guess what else?"

Hermione sat up and faced him, holding the blanket over her chest. "What?"

"We don't have to head back to France after all."

"Oh?"

"The team from Belgium came through. They captured the last three wizards who were on the run last night. Robards will be sending word tomorrow for us all to come in for a briefing on Monday, but he got word while he was with me so I was first to know." He smiled, then looked at Hermione and frowned. "Unless...you have to go back to France, don't you?" Ron realized they never actually discussed Hermione's plans after the mission. Where she would work and what it would mean for them. He felt a knot growing in his stomach.

"Well," she started, suddenly enraptured with a loose thread in his blanket, "I actually wanted to talk to you about...staying in London."

"Really?" Ron's heart raced happily, the knot disappearing immediately.

"Yes, really. I was speaking with your brother Percy earlier today, and he mentioned quite a few openings in a couple of departments that peeked my interest at the British Ministry. He already said that between you, Harry, him and Arthur and probably even Robards and Ledwig, I could get any position I set my eye on at the Ministry. I already have the connections on top of my education and experience -"

"And your brilliance," Ron added with a smile.

Hermione blushed and rolled her eyes playfully at the compliment. "Yes, well...anyway...I had already spoke to my boss in Paris about the possibility that I may stay here. I've been helping with research from afar, and may have to travel to Paris soon to tie up a few things, but as my only real task these last few months was the mission with your team," she shrugged and looked back up at Ron, "I can pretty much make a clean break."

"So...you'll stay here - WE'LL stay here - and you'll work in the British Ministry?"

"That's my hope?" She smiled but then her face got serious. "But as an Auror MAC, you may have more extended missions, won't you?"

Ron nodded slowly. "But, I was talking to Robards about that today, and he said we can discuss if I want to remain with the Auror MACS or make a switch. If I stay with the MACs though, and do have to leave, at least knowing that you'll be here, surrounded by my family...I'll hate to leave you but I'll feel better about it."

"Just don't go falling in love with an intern helping the team in Bulgaria or something," she joked. Ron pulled her into him, pressing her body flush against his own.

"I could never," he whispered, dotting her cheek and jaw with light kisses. "You are it for me Hermione Granger-Weasley."

"Good, because I quite like you too."

They settled back into the pillows holding each other close, then Ron cleared his throat. "So, we have some work to do Mrs. Weasley."

"What's that Auror Weasley?"

"Well, I figure step 1 is we'll need to find a home. I don't fancy shagging my wife for much longer in my childhood bedroom."

"A home? Like...a house?"

"Well, yeah. We could just get a flat in London, but that might hinder step two."

"And what is step two?"

"Step two is to put a baby in you," he growled into her neck while spreading his large hand over her bare stomach.

Hermione bit her lip and grinned, then she shook her head. "Oh Ronald. You did it again."

"Did what again?" he asked pushing up on his elbow over her with a concerned look. "What did I do?"

"You skipped step one...and went right for step two." Ron stared at her puzzled, then chuckled when he remembered that his plans were not for Ginny and Harry to know about their marriage first, but second.

Suddenly he sat all the way up, thinking about what Hermione just said. "I did wh-what now?"

Hermione sat up too, and took his hand and placed it back on her belly. "Step two...you've already done." Ron's wide eyes darted between her stomach and her own deep brown eyes. "I was feeling poorly a bit this week, so I went to St. Mungo's yesterday to confirm. I'm pregnant Ron," she whispered the last sentence.

"Y-you're...I'm gonna...we're...really?!" Hermione nodded smiling. Ron pulled Hermione onto his lap and peppered her entire face with kisses. "Oh Mione!...This is...so amazing...Merlin!...I love you...so much...so fucking much!" He continued planting kisses all over her cheeks and jaw and neck in between his professions of love as Hermione giggled in his arms. He lay her down tenderly then moved the orange blanket from over her. He touched her smooth stomach lightly and tried to imagine how it would look as the months went by, growing rounder right in front of him. He leaned in and kissed her stomach reverently. "I love you too, little one." He looked back up at Hermione and saw the tears in her eyes. "Oh love," he whispered as he straightened out to lay next to her. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply.

"I love you too Ron. So much. You insufferable prat," she teased.

"You love me because I'm an insufferable prat or in spite of?"

Hermione's laugh filled the room. "Hard to say!" She said through chuckles.

"Merlin, I love your laugh," Ron breathed out.

"Good thing you're relatively funny then!" Ron rolled his eyes and tickled her, delighted to hear the sound of her laugh once again reverberate around the room.

****

A/N: All the secrets are out! Yay! This was a really fun fic to write...so much so that I already have a few one-shot ideas that will be based on this AU so keep an eye out on FFN/AO3! I think we need to see more of Ron and Hermione's growing love in France, don't you? Or maybe I'll write the "before" story...hmmmm... We'll see! Now that I've "popped my cherry" and shared my first fic (and received so much love!) there's definitely more to come! I'm working on a massive one right now that I'll start to get out to you all shortly, and another completed fic I'm sitting on. So, until next time...Mertronus OUT 3

[liathgray]

i still stan capra chapter 4 so hard it literally lives in my brain nonstop,,,, you should totally share those deleted scenes if you ever are up to writing them,,, 🤫🤫🤫

Living in your head rent free :)

And... hah, well since you asked so nicely, here’s a little bit of the Rostock gang. As a treat

Edward blinked. “Run that by me again?”

Mr. Carcido toyed mindlessly with his cargo. “I’d like to know if you want to—“

“No, I got that part.” The blond interrupted, his eyebrows starting to climb upwards in confusion. “But why can’t you just take it with you?”

The man sighed. “There’s a good chance it’ll get ruined in the luggage car anyways, and it’s old... I would’ve needed a new one anyways.”

He paused to give Edward a hopeful look. “D’ya want it?”

“Uh, yeah. Yes.”

There’d be no harm from that, right? He couldn’t think of anything trouble lest it was leaping from an adventure novel.

Mr. Carcido smiled at him and handed Edward the case. It was lighter than he expected, rattling lightly.

“Don’t break it!” The man called as he backed away. Edward rolled his eyes like an omelette in a pan and huffed.

“Ye of little faith...”

-

“It’s left handed.”

Noah tilted her head, chin resting on her palms. “Can you still use it?”

He nodded. “It actually might be better. I won’t have to get any more callouses.”

-

Dev dragged Edward down the steps with the strength only held in his pinky. “It’ll be fun!” He assured, as if he would be giving Edward a choice anyways. “You’ve been working on that propeller fuel—“

“Propulsion fuel.” Ed corrected. Dev shook his head with a tireless smile.

“That. It hurts just looking at you all bent over day and night.” They reached the main floor. Noah trailed behind with Percy resting on her shoulders, diligently trying to figure out how to braid her hair whilst not fall flat on his face.

His balance was wavering, but Noah managed to keep him from loosing a tooth via intimate-stair-acquaintanceship. If a tightrope walker could see, they’d be rolling out a red carpet for her with praise on the lips. 

“He’s right, Ed. You’re practically a hermit.” She said lightly, in an act of absolute betrayal. Dev kept an arm looped through Edward’s, practically skipping down the from steps and into the street, adored with the honey-glow of dusk. 

“Hey! I took Percy down to the boat show, didn’t I?” He protested. From the corner of his eye, Edward saw Dev holding a battered case, swinging it causally with his steps and he had half a mind to snap at the older man to be more careful.

“That was two weeks ago.” Noah reminded him Edward sighed and resigned to being hauled down the road, stubbornness never letting up. They marched down the old walkway like a band of merry fools, two sets of lips happily using Edward as target practice for their loving jabs and teases. He grabbed each projectile and fired back in turn. It was their act.

“They just want you to hear you play.” Percy told him with his head cocked to the side. He was the poster boy for puppy eyes and Edward’s remaining resolve was snatched up and tossed into a nearby sewer drain. He grumbled and shot a glare to Dev, who was smirking like a fiend. 

He sighed. “You all suck.”

At least the pub was only a few blocks away. It flooded the rapidly dimming street with ringlets of light and screamed with laugher and gossip. 

He couldn’t deny that it was infectious. 

Dev dropped Edward into a seat and started shoving tables aside to a chorus of gleeful, half drunk cheers. Edward shook his head and let Percy jump up onto his knee. Noah chattered politely with the patrons and took them by the arm, leading them to the open space and pointing to their feet. It was the same look she wore on weekends when she managed to convince (on occasion blackmail) Edward into a square-step, but just a bit brighter.

A staff member wandered over to Ed as he fiddled with the pegs and Percy seemed to forget the blond wasn’t, in fact, a jungle gym and was hanging from his shoulders.

“Aye, what’ve you got there?”

He glanced up to find a pair of curious eyes framed by crows feet. Edward felt an involuntary smile tug at his lips. Maybe a little bit of smugness found it’s way into his tone “Mandolin.”

The man nodded thoughtfully. “Well can you play?”

“I can.”

He hummed. “Good. We’ve been needing some music ‘round here.”

Edward saluted him and exchanged a look with Noah. She’d grabbed every willing participant and positioned them like pieces of chess on a board. 

He spewed The Sailors Hornpipe over the pub and watch people spin, tangling into knots so dense it would take tweezers and a magnifying glass to sort it out. Noah led the charge, battle ready and beaming with Dev close behind.

A fiddler appeared out of nowhere and strung out notes so rapid and warm it made the night feel lighter than the day. An old man padded over and sat crosslegged on the floor, chanter in hand.

“What happened to the rest of it?” Edward asked over the noise. 

“Nothing,” He gave a toothy smile, “I just didn’t want to blow the walls down.”

Edward scoffed. “Fair point. How do you feel about Sweeney’s Buttermilk?”

They took off soaring and somehow he managed to keep his head screwed on and mindlessly play well into the night, gracelessly leaping from improvisation to old tunes, somehow blended seamlessly with the sounds of swaying footsteps.

So yeah, maybe he’d spent some free time working through chords and pilfering music books from a second hand shop.

He watched from the benches as a the massive group skipped and bustled. They ran from side-steps into a Circassian Circle that doubled and tripled in sized until the floor shook and the space was too small. 

Percy looked like he was having to time of his life, giggling and handing on to people’s hands, being practically tossed in loops.

Dev sauntered over to kick Edward out of his seat and take up vigil cause apparently he’d picked up a few songs here and there. “Go put those left feet to use Goldie.”

“You,” Edward started, “are the worst.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Noah went diving for his hand, snatching his wrist and dragging him into an eightsome reel and fucking hell did it make him dizzy. It also made him laugh like an idiot and grin.

[jasiper]

adore you

fine line series 3/12

you don’t have to say you love me

you don’t have to say nothing

you don’t have to say you’re mine

If Piper could go back in time, crash the wedding reception, grab her past self by the nape of her neck and drag herself out of the venue to give herself a good kick in the ass, she would.

Okay, maybe she wouldn’t crash her best friend’s wedding purely for the sake of not having sex, but in retrospect, she was being dumb. Completely and utterly idiotic. When it came to Jason, she seemed to lack the proper amount of brain cells to think Piper, maybe it’s a good idea not to sleep with your best friend again!

But it happened, time travel didn’t exist, so while she’s spending more time with Jason than ever, she’s also unable to fight the inkling that maybe after all this time, she is still in love with him, even after years of being apart.

How can she do this to herself? She spent years alone, maintaining a comfortable (yes, comfortable even though sometimes it was hard) distance between her and Jason. Sometimes there was a lapse of judgment, a night where the tensions got too high and they found themselves beneath the sheets, limbs intertwined and lips pressed to each other’s skin. They always manage to brush it off—an awkward laugh, averted eye contact, the walk of shame. It doesn’t stay awkward for long because by the next day, they’re texting and chatting like usual. It’s fine. It always ends up fine. Piper can still mash down her feelings and pretend it’s all okay.

Ever since Annabeth and Percy’s wedding, it isn’t just a one-time thing. It’s part of her daily routine. Wake up, coffee, work, dinner, she sees Jason, repeat. Maybe deciding on doing her last year of med school in San Francisco wasn’t her brightest idea, given that now she’s less than thirty minutes away from Jason at all times, but it’s too late to backtrack. She’s here now and he’s very obviously apart of her daily life, just as she’s apart of his.

It’s like their souls are intertwined. The Fates were probably having a field day with this. They tangled their strings of yarn together, tied several knots into them just for fun before seeing how well they can thrive. Even with the breakup, the several near-death experiences, Piper is sure their lives are even more connected. If she wanted to leave—which of course she doesn’t—she doesn’t think she’d have the ability to. It’s like there’s a bungee cord attached to them; if one ventures too far, the cord will restrict and pull them back together.

The wedding slip-up is a result of the cord being pulled too far. They spent too much time apart and when they were pulled back together, it lasted longer than it should have.

So now Piper is completely and utterly wrapped around Jason’s finger. She can’t even deny it at this point. So much for being just friends. The years of running away from her feelings finally caught up to her.

How can she not still have feelings for him? He’s her best friend, her shoulder to cry on, the person she trusts the most in the world.

Plus, he’s stupid pretty. Stupid pretty.

She’s never been fooled—it’s not like he was ever unattractive. He’s always been unfairly attractive. He’s just grown into himself now. His hair, which used to be cut short (Roman military style), has grown out, infuriatingly perfect. It’s hard to not run her fingers through it and pull him close and kiss him.

After sneaking away from the wedding reception a few months back, she finds herself doing that often. When they’re alone and they’ve run out of things to talk about, she tangles her fingers in his hair as she puts her lips to his, losing herself in the taste of his mouth.

It’s almost too easy to pretend that he’s hers when her tongue is in his mouth. She can delude herself for the time being—no one else is making him moan and flush and cause his eyelids to flutter. As much as she’s wrapped around his finger, she’s got him wrapped around hers, too. It’s the endless cycle of their relationship. Maybe if they weren’t so broken, they can take the final jump and say fuck it, let’s just try to date again.

But they’ve stared death in the eyes and they’ve figured out years ago that just because they’re broken, their pieces don’t necessarily fit into each other. They’re not a puzzle waiting to be finished. They’re broken glass, just random unfixable shards that have spent years trying to be reassembled.

That doesn’t stop Piper from hoping and praying to any god that is willing to listen to somehow bring them back together.

She’s selfish. She just wants him for herself.

But Jason Grace isn’t one to be owned. He’s the son of the king of the gods, pontifex, warrior through and through. He’s caused armies to fall, kingdoms to crumble. He wants domestic life—marriage, kids, a house with a big backyard. Even then, she can’t imagine her to be the one to be his wife in a suburban area. Their time has passed.

It still doesn’t stop her from wanting him to be hers. She doesn’t like sharing.

Right now, staring at his freckled back as he sleeps, playing connect the dots with the sunspots, she wants to be the only one to ever see him like this. Messy hair, skin pink against the white sheets, his back rising and falling with each breath. Who wouldn’t want this angel of a man to be theirs and only theirs?

For now, she’s the only one to be lucky to be in such a vulnerable position like this with him. That causes an almost painful, empty hollow feeling in her chest. This won’t be forever. This is just a temporary fix, a little fun before he goes off and settles down with a less broken person, someone who hasn’t flirted with death and almost paid the price for it. He’s worthy of someone who won’t scream in her sleep and push him away when things get hard.

Still. She doesn’t need him to love her. She just really wants him to.

The early morning sunlight is creeping through his blinds, turning his hair gold. Usually, he’s the one who wakes up around this time while she sleeps, but he’s had a long week. His breathing is slow, steady, clearly still asleep. She closes her eyes, listening to the sound of his heart against her cheek as she presses herself closer to his back, her arm hanging loosely off his torso. Maybe their broken pieces don’t fit perfectly, but for just a moment, she can pretend.

Several minutes pass and Jason’s breathing picks up, a clear indication that he’s waking up. Piper keeps her eyes closed, not daring to move, feigning sleep. She doesn’t want him to know she’s been awake this entire time.

With a low groan, Jason shifts in her arms, the sheets bunched up around them as he turns over. Her eyes remain shut as she feels his chest where his back once was, almost dropping the façade when she feels his hand cup her cheek. It isn’t until he presses his lips to her forehead is when she decides to ‘wake up’—her eyelids flutter and she forces a yawn as she gives an appropriate stretch.

Pretending to be asleep, she decides, is totally worth it. His cheeks are flushed a delicious shade of pink, a stark contrast to his sky blue eyes. She wants to lean forward and kiss every freckle on his cheekbone, but that feels a little less platonic than she feels comfortable with despite the fact he just kissed her forehead.

“Did I wake you?” Jason asks, voice wonderfully husky and heavy with sleepiness.

“Mhm, it’s okay.” Piper settles her hand on a shoulder, a place she deems as safe. “How’d you sleep?”

“Well,” he admits. “I needed that. Work this week was so tiring.”

There are still dark circles under his eyes. Piper runs her thumb just below his left eye and she says, “You seemed tired. We can go back to sleep if you want.”

Jason shakes his head and leans into her touch. She tries to ignore how her heart is beating in her throat when he murmurs, “No, you’re probably hungry. What host am I if I don’t make you breakfast?”

Piper almost wants to point out they’re hardly ever considered guests in each other’s apartments anymore—this is a routine event that occurs multiple times a week, but the thought of Jason cooking her breakfast makes her cheeks go warm. “Breakfast sounds nice.”

“Mhm.” Jason nods and sits up. Piper has to force herself to look away as the sheets fall and hang loosely around his hips. “Breakfast and maybe a shower after that?”

A shower sounds nicer than she wants to admit. She nods and slowly sits up, holding the sheets to her chest. “Can you make pancakes?” she asks hopefully.

He smiles and nods. “Of course,” he answers. He pushes away the sheets and Piper averts her eyes. She’s acting like she hasn’t seen him naked before because she knows if she looks, she’ll do something stupid, like blurt out her feelings for him, which is the last thing they need on such an uneventful morning. “Okay, I’ll start breakfast after I brush my teeth.” As if it’s the most casual thing in the world, he ruffles her hair before shuffling out of the bedroom in just his boxers.

Maybe there’s a part of her that does need his love, as pathetic as that sounds. A daughter of love who can’t even find the love for herself, someone who needs to love of another. It sounds so selfish; she’s already broken his heart once, he doesn’t need her to do it again.

Although now, she’s sure she wouldn’t break his heart again. She isn’t as hurt as she was when she was sixteen. She’s long accepted the demigod life and she wants to do it with him. 

Not that she’d ever say it. She bites back her feelings, again, settling for being the best friend who occasionally gets sex. It’s more than she deserves out of him, anyway.

It takes another few minutes of self-deprecating for Piper to haul herself out of bed. It’s hard to leave because Jason’s sheets are so soft, but she makes her way to the bathroom, grabs the toothbrush he keeps for her, and brushes her teeth. She tries to forget about the way Jason kissed her last night, how he kissed her forehead just this morning.

Is it so bad to want to be loved? Is it so awful to crave that? Maybe not, but this is her best friend, her first love. She wants to be adored but right now… Piper has to settle for this—the sex and nothing else. She can survive without the I love you and claiming each other as their own.

With a dramatic sigh, Piper forces Jason’s discarded shirt from the previous night on her body, choosing to put on panties and not her leggings as she makes her way to the kitchen, which smells heavenly of pancakes. By the time she slides into the stool at the counter, Jason’s sliding over a plate of pancakes, complimented with the perfect amount of syrup (he knows how much she likes) and strawberries and scrambled eggs. Her mouth waters and she digs right in.

“Hungry?” Jason teases, looking infuriatingly like a domestic husband cooking his wife breakfast after a long week of work.

What I would give to be the wife he’s cooking breakfast for.

Piper almost chokes on her pancakes at the thought. “Um, yeah. You wore me out,” she reminds him, having to force back a smile as his face turns a wonderful shade of red. “Are you telling me you’re not hungry from last night?”

Jason leaves over the other side of the counter, biting into his own stack of pancakes. “Starving,” he corrects as he chews. “Pancakes were a good idea, Pipes.”

She has to bite back her snarky remark, instead shoving her face full of strawberries. Making fun of him this morning isn’t on her agenda. At least not yet.

Staring is also not on her agenda, but it’s hard to do so when Jason’s hair is golden in the midmorning sun, freckles like constellations on his pale skin, lips so pink she wonders if they taste like bubblegum. (She’s kissed him enough to confirm his lips somehow taste better than bubblegum.) She wonders how sweet the kiss will taste as he eats his own breakfast. Will they taste like the coffee he drinks, or syrup, or the strawberries?

Maybe looking at him and focusing on his physical features will help her get her mind off the fact that her feelings are eating her insides away. So she continues to stare.

It isn’t until after Jason finishes his breakfast that he realizes she’s staring. “What? Is there something on my face?” he asks, instinctively reaching up to touch his cheek.

Piper shakes her head, pushing aside her empty plate as she props her elbows up on the counter. “Nope. I’m just…” She struggles for the right innuendo, hoping he’ll catch on, but knowing he’s too dense to do so. “I’m still hungry.”

“Oh.” Jason blinks. “I could make you more pancakes if you want. Don’t even worry about it.”

“No, Jason.” Piper leans even further over the counter. “I’m not hungry for food.”

It takes Jason a few moments to realize what she’s getting at. He flushes crimson, the color reaching to the tips of his ears. “Oh. Oh.” He laughs breathily and he reaches across the counter to twine his fingers in her hair. “Really? After last night?”

“Especially after last night.” Piper bites down on her bottom lip. She was right—being horny is easier than grappling the feelings that threaten to bubble over the surface. She can’t ruin the friendship purely because she’s still hopelessly head over heels for him years after their breakup. “Are you…”

Jason doesn’t answer. His lips do the talking instead as he closes the distance between them to give her an eager kiss. She’s right, his lips do taste like a sweet mixture of maple syrup and fresh strawberries.

“I said I was starving earlier, didn’t I?” Jason murmurs as he pulls away. He pushes himself away from the counter, holding out a hand to her. “Come on. We can shower after this.”

His hand is extended towards her and she wishes this was a different situation. She wishes he was asking for her love instead, asking her to be his. Asking her to adore him.

But he’s not. He doesn’t have those feelings anymore. All she’s capable of doing is pining and cursing her past mistakes because now she’s stuck in this zone, only able to kiss him but unable to love him the way she wants to.

This is all she can get, so she grabs his hand to at least feel like she’s adored. Even if it’s only for a little bit. Even if it’s only for a moment.

[diangeloyoyok]

my review on pjo movies

first up with have The Lighting Thief obviously

 Poseidon’s entrance lowkey kinda fire but high key weird

‘it’s been many years’ didn’t y’all just have that winter solstice party together ???

‘if your son if the thief i will send him to the pits of tartarus’ ouch that hurt ngl

logan lerman 🥺

he would’ve been such a good percy if they did the movies when he was younger IDC IDC IDC

i stan black grover and just grover overall

i wish we got to see my bitch nancy

sally and percy sallY AND PERCY SALLY AND PERCY SALLY AND PERCY

gabe to me is just *hmm* perfect in this movie, he’s not as mean in the movies but he’s still an asshole ehehehe

i love Chiron actor i think it’s very accurate

also wtf chiron is bros with the big three lols 😹

y’all know jenna davis?- that’s who the girl who plays ms dodd’s looks like

so they just gonna ignore him and tak ab him while he’s RIGJT. THERE.

‘This is a pen. This is a pen.’

‘Are you guys crazy? This is a pen man!’

the scene with gabe makes me uncomfy bc percy says in the book gabe never hits percy in front of sally but ok 😗✌️

leaving percy was the *mOST* difficult thing poseidon *the GOD of water* has ever done wow percy is that cool

‘You’re half donkey?!”

i am da wittlest minotaur 😳✨🙈

such a subtle entrance to the camp love it

why y’all give percy the pen before he supposed to be a badass and rip the horn off wjth his hands but ig

wait so in this dumbass movie percy doesn’t even do anything to get the horn goodbye

i’m still very pissed that they took the scene of annabeth sayjng ‘you drool when you sleep’ but it’s fine i’m NOT fine

why is no one wearing camp shirts 🤬

they may be wrong but i didnt know it was ‘brUnner’ not ‘brUNner’

it’s kinda cute how when percy first sees annabeth he’s like ‘ooouuu who’s that name now 😌😏”

brown haired blue eyed looking ass BITCH

‘A real horses ass’ laughed a LITTLE

so the poseidon cabin is just *THAT* open poor percy no privacy

oh wait wth they already know his daddy poseidon 🤨

like everyone just knew ????

when did percy get new clothes the fuck

why did everyone laugh and shake their heads when chiron introduced percy what whores

omg luke 🥺

i know everyone knows this but it’s *SOOOOOOOOO* unrealistic annabeth and luke aren’t on the same team. like i’m pretty sure in the first book annabeth said they had a permanent allies type thing with the hermes cabin

‘that’s a sword! that’s a sword’ aw baby luke why’d you have to be evil 🙁🤚

where the FUCK did that bitch tryna be annabae come from

she realky said ‘i love trees🌲☺️❤️’

why does annabeth act like clarisse during capture the flag

also the fuCK WHERE MY BABY CLARISSE

why are there like actual 30 yr olds at camp

luke was so excited when he saw percy get up he said ‘omg no way✨’

so suddenly percy just knows sword play 😀

and deFEATS ANNABETH WE ALL KNOW HE CANT EVEN DO THAT NOW

y’all red heads a bunch of babies

i already know it’s coming

shit no

i hate it

i hate it so much

already ew’d out

‘i definitely have strong feelings for you, i just haven’t decided if they’re positive or negative yet.’

‘well you let me know when you figure it out’

‘you’ll be the first’

why they just drinking nectar for fun?? like bruh you tryna die or sum

after that i can’t watch anymore tonight

it’s been like 3 weeks but let’s not talk about that

i’m not even gonna comment on the campfire scene anymore my god

i like how in movies everyone is like “omg the underworld so scary percy you can’t go that’s so dangerous you will DIE”

and in the books they’re like “yeah it’s dangerous but whateva you 12 yr olds have fun down there bring me a souvenir!!”

why does luke have?? video?? games?? in?? his?? cabin??

WAIT LIKE A WHOLE ASS TECHNOLOGY SETUP WHAT

why is luke the only one in his cabin like where’s the stolls and chris 😳

you mean to tell me luke broke into hermes house just for like funzies and to steal shit?

sounds like travis and connor but ok✨

what the fuck even is the whole pearl plot

i don’t even wanna talk about the medusa scene

percy has an ipod 🤡

“i’ve only been in the outside world a few times” did you fucking practice driving those few times or WHAT

if percy could actually heal people with water wowie imagine how useful

why did percy bring swimming trunks on a quest

can this brown haired bitch shut up already

sally never took gabes last name excuse you 🤣

ofc it’s fucking fox news giving us that bullshit info on sally

they in nashville wee-doggie 🤠

‘hey it’s your mom’ obviously dumbass she has eyes

so they hid in the potty room for like 5 hours? huh

yeah let’s jus facetime lukey real quick 🥰

silly boy percy

“how flipping awesome was that”

does percy even know he can bend water in the first book

that’s gonna be an unexplainable statue for the workers tmrw

lotus hotel baby

the only reason this movie is watchable

vegas be lookin kinda fresh i wannna go

i wanna stay at the lotus hotel this place looks sick asf

lotus flower treats yummy yum

here comes gaga 😮

why they laugjing so much

wonder if nico likes gaga

imagine like 10 yr old nico just straight vibing there

grover pulling out the dance movies yessir 🤩

“no❤️ percy don’t eat the flower”

why didn’t percy just like grab the flowers and throw them

OOOO KESHA WE LOVE TO SEE IT

TIKTOK ON THE CLOCK BUT THE PARTY DONT STOP NOW WOAHWOAHWOAH

i’m bored ✨

ooo skeletons

charon my queen 👑🥳

“we drowned in a bathtub, all three of us” 😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊😊

i wish that was in the movie

i wish a lot of things were in the movie hit that is high

we’re in the same boat in the very same boat

how do you get seasick in an elevator- BOAT?

the way to the underworld is over the styx it’s a river

i know, you show off chicks

sexist much? go make a splash

i’ll splash you

it’s like watching titian’s clash, they’ll kill each other it they’ll kiss if we’re lucky they’ll end up in an abyss

um

anyways✨

hades do be looking kinda cool tho

that’s a cool ring you got there hades

omg mommy sally 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

how did percy not notice the lightening bolt in the damn shield befORE???

“it’s luke shield he betrayed us”

damn she switched sides real fast

this phoney bitch why does she want power and a war sis go plant shit

i refuse to believe hades is abusive sorry sis you ain’t fooling me

god where’s Juniper when you need her

so no fight between percy and aries 🤡

instead we have lukey pukey

omh he’s the lightening thief i did not see that coming ong 😳

^^ me on twitter after it’s revealed on the percy jackson tv show

can this luke character chile

percy pulled a harry styles and said “i’m falling” 😔

i’m thE SON OF POSEIDON I NEVER ASKED TO BE BUT IM THE SON OF POSEIDON

“yeah, i think i am the son of poseidon”

okay 🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋🦋

omG i goT bUtTerFliEs

how does s-dog jusy know how to get to olympus did y’all get freaky up there or

that’s actually kinda how i imagine olympus looking so

i guess

good job

maybe

what is this ant man why they so small

“i have no connection to poseidon”

p-dog looked kinda hurted 😳

as if zeus would ever compliment percy

has athena ever told annabeth *or any of her kids* i’m proud of you

“i need to speak with him” “just this once”

yet we got poseidon showing up once in awhile just to say hi

7 months? 😀

percy was 7 months old?

now i don’t remember much but i don’t think it was that long luv ❤️

“always”

i thought i was watching percy jackson not harry potter tf is up

sally and percy have my whole heart

g-man got his horns

chiron 🥺✨

missed my main hoe 😍

why are there so many fucking campers

there’s like 500

let’s take a chill pill shall we

annabeth and percy look like siblings in this

 incest 😳

they bouta fiGHTshe better have won

k well that’s it thank the gods 😘

i’ll be back in like 4 months to review sea of monsters i need a break of bullshit

OH ITS NOT OVER

it’s gabe

he pulled a demi

stone cold

stone cold

everyone will be happier without him

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars XXIII (Harry Potter xFem!Oc)

A/N: I already finished this book as well and I’m currently writing book three, I’ve never been this professional in my fucking life- Sidenote, I should be doing my school work but I can’t even bother

P.S. If there are any mistakes or something I apologize, I sort of edited this like a month ago but never proofread cause I’m a lazy bastard

Words: 3,207

Warnings: The most glorious fight scene of the whole book

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Five: Gilderoy Lockhart.

She noticed Harry's condition improving after a week. 

He gained weight and slept better because of it, Mrs. Weasley would fix his items of clothing that were a bit too big or sort of messed up and would give them back on his size and no longer ripped.

She could tell he wasn't used to positive attention, let alone coming from two adults that actually cared about him. Emily and Mel were more than happy to have welcomed such a lovely family into their lives.

A week after Harry's arrival they received their Hogwarts' letters listing the new books for their term:

'SECOND-YEAR STUDENTS WILL REQUIRE:

The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 by Miranda Goshawk

Break with a Banshee by Gilderoy Lockhart

Gadding with Ghouls by Gilderoy Lockhart

Holidays with Hags by Gilderoy Lockhart

Travels with Trolls by Gilderoy Lockhart

Voyages with Vampires by Gilderoy Lockhart

Wanderings with Werewolves by Gilderoy Lockhart

Year with the Yeti by Gilderoy Lockhart'

"You've been told to get all Lockhart's books, too!" Fred said, looking at Harry's letter, "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan - bet it's a witch."

"That lot won't come cheap," said George, with a quick look at his parents, "Lockhart's books are really expensive..."

"Well, we'll manage," said Mrs. Weasley, "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."

Mel and Emily shared a look, maybe if the vault belonged to them fully they would be able to lend them the money they needed, but that vault belonged to the Dumbledore family. Technically, it didn't belong to her at all, she was a child.

"Oh, are you starting at Hogwarts this year?" Harry asked Ginny, he knew the answer, but he was trying to be kind.

Mel saw the little girl get completely red at Harry's question and looked away, stifling her laughter with food.

"Morning, all," said Percy, "Lovely day."

He was about to sit down when he squealed, holding what it seemed a grey, old bird.

"Errol!" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy, "Finally - he's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to her saying we were going to try and rescue you from the Dursleys."

He took the poor owl and laid it back next to his perch.

'Dear Ron, Mel, and Harry if you're there,

I hope everything went all right and that Harry is okay and that you didn't do anything illegal to get him out, Ron, because that would get Harry into trouble, too. I've been really worried and if Harry is all right, will you please let me know at once, but perhaps it would be better if you used a different owl because I think another delivery might finish your one off. I'm very busy with schoolwork, of course-'

"How can she be?" said Ron in horror. "We're on vacation!"

"Shh! Let me finish!"

'-and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley? Let me know what's happening as soon as you can.

Love from Hermione.'

"Well, that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too," said Mrs. Weasley, starting to clear the table. "What're you all up to today?"

They had planned to go back to the hill where they usually played Quidditch, a safe land where the trees covered enough so the muggles couldn't see them.

Off they went, leaving Percy and Ginny -she hid in her room and said she felt ill, but Mel knew it was because she couldn't be in the same place as Harry long periods of time- and Harry asked why Percy was acting so oddly.

"Wish I knew what he was up to," said Fred, frowning. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you did; twelve O.WL.s and he hardly gloated at all."

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," George explained, seeing their puzzled looks. "Bill got twelve, too. If we're not careful, we'll have another Head Boy in the family. I don't think I could stand the shame."

"There's no shame on wanting to be better," Mel scowled him, "there's no need to make others feel bad just because you don't share the same dreams"

"Lady, I'm sorry but if your biggest dream is to have a nice looking grade then you should try to keep looking, cause that's not it"

"Floo what? "

"Powder," Emily took a pinch and showed it to her, "it's faster this way, here," she put it on her daughter's hand, "it's alright, just threw it into the fire and say exactly to where are you heading."

"Watch us first," Fred said, and he took a pinch himself and threw it.

He walked into the green emerald fire and said in a loud voice, "Diagon Alley!"

He vanished.

Mel walked in next, not wanting to stand there and wait for anxiety to grow. She threw the powder and stepped in, the memory of the time she walked through flames with Harry made her panic a little, but she shook her head, almost yelling:

"Diagon Alley!"

She felt her body being pushed down onto the ground, but the floor was gone and a lot of images passed in front of her eyes making her dizzy, she was unable to move and didn't try to, scared of hurting herself she hoped it would stop on its own.

And it did, after a few seconds of aimlessly falling, she landed sideways on the dusty ground.

"Well done, lady," Fred offered a hand, helping her get on her feet, "How was it for the first time?"

"Why can't wizards just use cars," She whined, trying and failing to get off the dirt from her clothes"

Fred laughed.

"That's just not as fun," He tried to help her clean her sweater, but it was useless.

George appeared right after, swiftly landing and not caring to brush off the dirt from his body.

"Lovely, isn't it?" He grinned, examining the girl's ill expression, "you don't look happy"

Mr. Weasley landed behind his son, brushing the soot from his robes.

"We should get going, the rest will catch up with us"

They nodded and started to walk, Mel and the boys would gravitate towards the funny-looking objects with curiosity, but Mr. Weasley was quick to put them back on track.

"Is not like we can buy them anyway," Fred sighed, "we're just looking"

"Sometimes we can design things based on stuff we find around here," George told her in a low whisper, "it gives us an idea of what things wizards and witches find amusing"

"What for?" She asked with interest.

"We're planning to open our own joke shop someday," Fred said proudly, "one day we'll get the money and we'll make the best items for all kinds of pranks and tricks"

"It sounds fun," Mel agreed, "have you finished one of those inventions already?"

"Not really," George grimaced, "every time mum finds our experiments she throws them away, is not exactly helpful"

As he finished his sentence, Mrs. Weasley, Emily, Ron, and Ginny, ran up to them.

"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley cried, "We can't find him!"

"What!?" Mel rushed up to her mum, "What happened!?"

"He messed up the words," Ron lamented, "not his fault really, but now we don't know where he is"

"He can't be too far," Her mother tried to calm them down, "Harry's a smart boy, and he didn't completely mess up the words, just a little... must be around here"

They split into two groups, Mel going with her mother, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley.

"I don't understand why everything always happens to him," Mel whispered to Ginny.

"I just hope he's okay," Her friend pouted, "poor Harry..."

"This is exactly why I think some traditions are just crazy, look how dangerous this is! What if he appears inside a muggle's chimney?"

"Can't happen," Ginny shook her head, "only magical places have floo line, no muggle houses are connected"

It took them almost half an hour to find the boy. He was in front of Gringotts, Hagrid and Hermione were also with him, though she didn't know how they had found each other.

"Oh, Harry - oh, my dear - you could have been anywhere-"

Gasping for breath Mrs. Weasley pulled a large clothes brush out of her bag and began sweeping off the soot Hagrid hadn't managed to beat away. Mrs. Weasley took Harry's glasses, gave them a tap of her wand, and returned them, good as new.

"Well, gotta be off," said Hagrid, who was having his hand wrung by Mrs. Weasley, "See yer at Hogwarts!"

"See you Hagrid!" Harry walked up to her and stare. "What?"

"You're not going to scowl me about this?"

"I'm not your mum," She crossed her arms, taking full offense, "I was worried but it wasn't your fault"

"Harry!" Emily walked up to him and hugged him tightly, "I'm so relieved! You have to be more careful, Harry!"

"You see, I don't have to scowl you when my mum can do it herself," She smirked.

"Hi Mel!" Hermione walked up to her and gave her a hug, "It's so good to see you!"

"Hi!" She replied.

"Guess who I saw in Borgin and Burkes?" Harry asked his friends as they climbed the Gringotts steps. "Malfoy and his father."

"Did Lucius Malfoy buy anything?" asked Mr. Weasley.

"No, he was selling-'

"So he's worried," said Mr. Weasley, "Oh, I'd love to get Lucius Malfoy for something..."

"You be careful, Arthur," said Mrs. Weasley "That family's trouble. Don't go biting off more than you can chew-"

"So you don't think I'm a match for Lucius Malfoy?" said Mr. Weasley.

But his anger soon went away as they met Hermione's parents at the main entrance.

"Nice to meet you," Mel noted the resemblance between Hermione and her mother, she wondered if she looked like that standing next to her own mother.

"But you're Muggles!" said Mr. Weasley, "We must have a drink! What's that you've got there? Oh, you're changing Muggle money. Molly, look!"

"Meet you back here," Ron said to Hermione as the Weasleys, Emily, Mel and Harry were led off to their underground vaults by another Gringotts goblin.

When the groups split, Emily discretely told Mel that she'd be going with Mrs. Weasley to buy Ginny's stuff and she wouldn't stop nagging until she accepted their help.

"Molly's been so nice to us, it's the least we can do"

"But, Dumbledore's vault-"

"This is from my own vault," When she saw her daughter's expression she added, "I have some savings there, enough in case Dumbledore's wasn't enough for your things. I didn't know they were so... rich"

"Okay," Mel nodded, "I'll see you in a while"

Harry bought four large strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice creams for them, they walked through Diagon Alley, examining the shop windows until Hermione dragged them to buy their equipment.

Inside a Wizarding Joke Shop, they saw Fred, George, and Lee Jordan buying Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks. Percy was inside a shop of used, broken things that looked more like junk, reading a book called 'Prefects Who Gained Power.'

"A study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers," Ron read aloud off the back cover. "That sounds fascinating..."

"Don't start," Mel warned him.

"Go away," Percy snapped.

"'Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out... He wants to be Minister of Magic..." Ron told them as they left.

"He's got a lot of work ahead of him," Mel raised a brow, "no wonder he stays all day inside his room"

They headed to Flourish and Blotts. As they approached, they saw a huge group of people trying to get in. A large banner above them:

'GILDEROY LOCKHART will be signing copies of his autobiography MAGICAL ME today 12:30 P.m. to 4:30 P.m.'

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"

The crowd was mostly witches, a poor worker stood at the entrance saying, "Calmly, please, ladies... Don't push, there... mind the books, now..."

Harry, Mel, Ron, and Hermione squeezed inside. They each grabbed a copy of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2 and sneaked up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys and Emily were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley, "We'll be able to see him in a minute..."

Mel grabbed her mother's hand to get her attention, Emily looked down to her daughter.

"You helped?" She asked in a whisper.

"As much as she let me," Emily frowned, "not even close to enough, she would only let me help with fewer things, potion ingredients and the floo powder because I insisted that we had used it too"

"That's something," Mel sighed, "wish we could do more..."

"We'll be right here if they need more help," Emily stroked the girl's hair softly, "don't lose sleep on it, love..."

Gilderoy Lockhart came into view, he was all too flashy for Mel's liking. He enjoyed too much all the attention, no one with common sense would enjoy his own face that badly.

"Out of the way, there," A photographer snarled at Ron, "This is for the Daily Prophet-"

"Big deal," said Ron, rubbing his foot since the man had carelessly stepped on it.

"Watch where you're going, don't be an animal," Mel said loudly, her mother clasped a hand on her shoulder and murmured in a horrified whisper 'Mel!'

Gilderoy Lockhart looked up. He saw Ron and then he saw Harry.

Then he stood up and shouted, "It can't be Harry Potter?"

The man sprinted towards them and snatched Harry away from the group, dragging him right up the front of the place. Mel watched in horror as the photographer took pictures of Harry, face red, hand trapped in Gilderoy's, who was whispering something to the boy.

"We have to get him out of there," She whispered to Ron.

"How exactly?" Ron said, just as shocked as her.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Gilderoy spoke up, now wrapping an arm around Harry's shoulders, "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time! When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography -which I shall be happy to present him now, free of charge-"

"How generous..." She grumbled.

"-He had no idea that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

"Oh... great," Mel gulped, "why?"

"I'm not sure your uncle thought that through," Her mother said lowly, "but I trust you'll have interesting classes at least"

Mel nodded, she walked over to where Harry was heading now that he was free and planned to apologize for causing the whole situation. He stopped in front of Ginny, giving her the books.

"You have these," Harry mumbled, tipping the books into the girl's cauldron. "I'll buy my own-"

He was so considerate, all the time! ...There it was again, the nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Bet you loved that, didn't you, Potter?" Mel turned around, finding Draco standing a few feet away. "Famous Harry Potter, can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"Leave him alone, he didn't want all that!" said Ginny.

She was giving Malfoy a deathly stare. Mel was surprised, she had never seen her spoke like that in front of Harry.

"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" Malfoy laughed.

Poor Ginny lost her courage, Ron and Hermione soon joined in.

"Oh, it's you," said Ron in disgust, "Bet you're surprised to see Harry here, eh?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

Ron dropped the books inside Ginny's cauldron and move towards him, Harry and Hermione stopped him before he could touch the kid.

"Sod off, Malfoy," Mel pushed Ron away, "we don't have the time for you"

"Ron!" said Mr. Weasley, who had seen the scene from a few spaces away, he had Fred and George with him. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well - Arthur Weasley."

That had to be Malfoy's father, he stood with the same air of superiority and was just as dislikeable from bare sight as his son.

"Lucius," said Mr. Weasley.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids ... I hope they're paying you overtime?"

He reached into Ginny's cauldron and extracted a very old, very battered copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.

"Obviously not," Mr. Malfoy said. "Dear me, what's the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizard if they don't even pay you well for it?"

Mr. Weasley went scarlet red.

"We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said.

"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, "The company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower"

Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf.

"Get him, Dad!" Yelled the twins.

Mel covered her mouth in surprise, unable to move.

Mrs. Weasley yelled, "No, Arthur, no!"

"Gentlemen, please - please!" The worker begged, "Break it up, there, gents, break it up -"

"Enough!" Emily pulled out her wand and made a swift movement, both men being pushed away from each other.

Hagrid then appeared, walking over to them and pulling them to their feet, keeping them apart. Mr. Weasley had a cut lip and Mr. Malfoy had a black eye. He gave the book back to Ginny aggressively.

"Here, girl -take your book- it's the best your father can give you-" Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip and leaving the shop with his son.

"Yeh should've ignored him, Arthur," said Hagrid, almost lifting Mr. Weasley off his feet as he straightened his robes. "Rotten ter the core, the whole family, everyone knows that - no Malfoy's worth listenin' ter - bad blood, that's what it is - come on now - let's get outta here."

Mel found her mother's eyes and they had the same worried-amused expression. Emily turned to the Grangers.

"All right?"

"I think you should ask that to Arthur," Said Mr Granger politely, looking pale as paper.

"A fine example to set for your children... brawling in public... what Gilderoy Lockhart must've thought-" Mrs Weasley scowled.

"He was pleased," said Fred. "Didn't you hear him as we were leaving? He was asking that bloke from the Daily Prophet if he'd be able to work the fight into his report- said it was all publicity-"

"A brilliant professor, don't you think?" Harry asked her, a mocking smile on his face.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @omiwashere @mikariell95  @thesuitelifeofafangirl  

[faunahudson]

making up is hard to do | faury

Who: Fauna and Rory Flanagan @switch-it-up-rory When: 22/10/20 Where: Fauna and Sawyers Apartment What: Fauna and Rory talk out their differences Warnings: Discussions of suicide, drug addiction, and emotional abuse

This was the most terrified Rory had ever been in his life, for a long, long time. He didn't know what to expect when Fauna had texted him about her door being unlocked, she didn't acknowledge his response. But he headed straight over to her and Sawyer's suite, amidst the confusions over the rumours of his death. Nonetheless, he gingerly opened the door after 10 minutes of waiting outside it, the twin telepathy between them not working. He couldn't gauge how Fauna would react, and that was the scariest thing about it all. Maybe she was finally done with him, packed his bags and got him a one-way flight out of Florida. Leave him with his own devices. He'd do whatever would make her happy, but he didn't necessarily want to leave her. Walking into the suite, he nervously leaned back against the door. "Hello?" He called out, his voice as shaken as his body was, shivering despite the unnatural October heat. Despite the shower and fresh change of clothes, Rory looked and felt terrible, 4 days of being cold turkey would do that to a person. He just hoped Fauna would take pity on his appearance and break his heart gently.

Fauna was finally dressed in normal clothes, one of Sawyers sweatshirts covering her top and a small skirt topping off the look. Having spent the morning doing school work and texting Alexis, she was now finishing off her first lemon cake in almost a week. The smell filling the apartment and making her feel calm again. She heard Rory at the door and she tensed just a little, there was definitely still some anger lingering and a whole world of hurt but she steadied herself. “Hey.” She said quietly. “It’s open.” She added in case he wasn’t sure, the brunette didn’t turn around from the icing she was stirring at first because if she saw him she thought she might cry again. “Have a seat..” she suggested. “I’m just finishing the icing.”

It took a moment for the comforting scent of lemon cake to hit, and it steadied Rory slightly. She wouldn't have been as murderous as she was on Monday if she ws making lemon cake, that was her happy food. But he didn't trust it, because he didn't trust himself. Rory Flanagan couldn't be trusted, it was he only lesson people needed to learn. He gingerly sat down, his mind lost for clever comments and jokes, picking at his nails as Fauna finished off her baking, looking around the trial claim suite. He half wished Sawyer was here, he was so good at breaking the awkward tension, but alas it just seemed to Fauna and Rory alone. "Um," He didn't know what he was going to say, but trailed off when he noticed that his hand just wouldn't stop shaking, so he shoved it in his sweatshirt pocket. "I'm sorry." He then said, because it was the only place he could start, really. "I'm really fucking sorry, Fauna."

Fauna could almost feel him looking around, the twin connection wasn’t completely dead then. “He’s gone for a run, he can’t save you I’m afraid.” She told him lightly as she finally turned and put the lemon cake on the table so that she could begin icing it. The little brunette looked up at her twin, her heart aching. “I know.” She replied honestly. “I know you are Ror.. but you really, really hurt me... and I don’t really understand why.. I think that’s what hurts so much. I’ve never once judged you not for Aoife, not for the drugs or-“ The lump in her throat stopped her from going on for a moment and she began focusing on spooning icing into a piping bag. “I’ve only ever asked that you don’t lie to me.. so that I can help you.. so I can fix things.”

the almost dropped crossaint22/10/2020

The shaky breath Rory let out was one of relief, because they had been back on the same wave length temporarily, just for a moment. Hopefully a positive sign and not some sort of omen. He wanted to glance away when she finally looked at him, but didn't, but he swore he was shaking more. Like there was some sort of draught through the apartment. "I know..." He replied, weakly, "I think I was just, scared. Scared of letting you down because you couldn't...fix this." He didn't want to be this honest with her, but he had to prove that he wouldn't lie to her again, even if he had to talk about some pretty scary shit. "I was going to tell you that I didn't think I was ready to leave and then....I don't know. I saw your face, and you were so happy to see me. And you had a collar on...and I found out that....Conor....was here and just...just didn't say anything." He did glance down at the floor during this explanation, tears welling in his eyes, hating how pathetic and selfish he sounded.

she won’t hesitate, bitch22/10/2020

She wanted more than anything to go over to him, to wrap her arms around his shoulders and let him know that it was all okay. But she wasn’t ready yet, so instead she listened quietly as she piped the light yellow icing onto the cake. “You not being ready or relapsing.. thats not letting me down Ror and it never will be. Addiction is a bitch and I don’t expect you to be better overnight. I’m a doctor remember.” She told him honestly. “I don’t know how many times I can tell you that it doesn’t matter what is going on in my life... I’m your twin sister. Sawyer he.. He makes it easier for me to be here for you, genuinely having him it’s made me more stable and more ready to be a good sister than ever before. He is never a reason you don’t tell me things. Please Rory.. I want to forgive you and for us to talk about what comes next.. all I want to do is stroke your hair and tell you that it’s okay. But I can’t unless you swear this won’t become a pattern. I refuse to live my life with you lying to me. I will support you no matter what, I will come and pick you up with coke still on your nose. But you have to be honest.”

He nodded as she spoke, knowing that all he had to do was look her in her eyes and promise her it wouldn't be a pattern. But there was a monster of doubt on the edge of his mind, asking him relentlessly if he was sure to agree to that, because what if he was lying again? What if all he ever did was lie? "It wasn't because of Sawyer," He found himself saying, not because he was necessarily deflecting but, if he was going to promise to not make a pattern out of lying, he was going to do it after he eventually laid everything out on the table. "The Yank is tall but not intimidating, we both know I could body him any day. It was Percy." It was always Percy, but this time Rory wasn't excusing his own bad behaviour on his troubled relationship with his father, but just explaining his reasoning. "I...don't know if I'm supposed to know. About the arguments and the rehab bills. He doesn't even know I know, but he's got a big gob and won't use his inside voice even in the apology porsche with Maurie...he thought I was sleeping. I..." His voice cracked, hating himself more with each second since his realisation on the beach, "I didn't know. How hard you pushed for him to pay the bills. I thought Maurie or Ma would, or he'd just do it so I was out of his hair for a bit, I didn't know it was this whole thing. He pretended to be ignorant about my progress, but like, he knew. He said he didn't give a fuck, and I knew you two were at each other's throats about it, so I just stayed quiet and went along with it...broke my sobriety like an hour out of being out of rehab. Must be some sort of record," He scoffed in digust at himself, "I really, really want to swear it won't be a pattern, Fauna. But I can't until I can prove it somehow. I never want to hurt you again, ever."

Fauna let out a little watery laugh at the image of Rory trying to fight Sawyer. Her stomach twisted with something that she could easily recognise as guilt when he brought up Percy, because right now she wasn’t even fighting with the guy. She hadn’t burned his 10,000 dollar check, or ignored his phone calls. She’d taken them all, and let him say all manner of things about Rory, about Sawyer and about her life because she’d rather have his money than be brave. “I’m sorry.. I should have been more stubborn about putting you back in rehab.” She said honestly, sliding one hand across the table so that they could tangle their hands together. “It’s okay.. you weren’t ready to be out of rehab and you didn’t have the supports. You were hurting. Don’t worry about that now, we’re going to get you real support so you can be here properly... if that’s what you want? Because if you’d rather go back to a proper facility I won’t be mad, I’ll pay for it and that’s not me being self sacrificing I can more than afford it now. But if you want to be here then we can get you like.. a therapist and stuff... I’ll take you to the hospital a lot of the doctors are good craic for yanks.” She was crying without even really thinking about it, tears streaking down her cheeks. “I believe you Ror.. and I forgive you.”

He shook his head at her apology, because really Fauna had nothing to apologise for. The interesting thing about being mentally ill, and an addict, was that he couldn't just be put on a treatment program and just magically get better, like he had some sort of flu. He wasn't better simply because he defied the help he received. "It's not your fault." He told her, genuinely, because all Fauna did try to do was help him. He felt whole again when her hand reached his, and he squeezed it as if he feared she'd suddenly recoil and let go. His stomach turned at all the different options she threw at him, feeling suddenly overwhelmed, doing his best to ignore the churning feeling low in his gut. "I don't want to leave." He told her, voice thick with tears, "I can't leave you...not again. I'll do the other things but I don't want....I don't want to be locked up again." Everytime Rory had to stay in some sort of facility, it was hell. And he'd be damned if he did it again. If he was going to get better, he was going to do it somewhere where his shoes had laces in them. "I love you, Fairy." He murmured, "I really am sorry. I'm sorry." He was fully sobbing now, letting it all out. A mixture of relief, grief, anger at himself, exhaustion, sickness, it all flooding out in the tears and the heavy, choked breaths.

She knew that he wouldn't want her apology but she supposed that he didn't really know what she was apologising for, and it didn't bear discussing right now. The submissive squeezed his hand back, reaching to put her other one on top of it. When he started to sob, her heart broke a little and she swallowed down a sob of her own. "Let's go through to the spare room alright?" Fauna suggested wanting to be closer to her brother, and feeling like the kitchen wasn't the best place to do that. Carefully she stood and lead Rory through to the bedroom closing the door behind them, giving them some space while they talked. She sat down among her my melody plushes that she'd been sitting in while she'd worked on her school work, and then patted her lap for her brother to rest his head in. "You don't have to go to rehab, I'd rather I could see you.." Fauna admitted. "But-You have to take your meds, and I mean I want to see you take them and me or Sawyer will be driving you to your appointments. You miss one and there will be hell to pay... I'll.. I'll go with you." She promised.

Rory just nodded, trying to calm his breathing, letting Fauna lead the way. He picked up one of the plush rabbits, staring at it in disdain, wondering where Butterscotch was for a moment, before realising he was getting too distracted again. But Fauna patted her lap and he laid his head in it, the ultimate comfort position to him, where he felt properly safe. "I like it here," He mumbled, nodding at her insistence of taking his medication and attending therapy. Rory tended to not like those things, but he'd be willing to give them a go if it meant he got his sister back. "I want new meds," The Switch admitted, "new meds that don't make me feel like one of those dodgy sprouted potatoes. But I'll take my current ones until I can get new ones." He didn't really have any terms for the therapy, but he was grateful Fauna would go with him, and just nodded as best as he could in her lap. His chest still felt heavy though, not a comforted heaviness, but weighed down with the one thing he hadn't told her, and maybe he should despite everything, because he wanted them to start afresh with no secrets between them anymore. Rory sat up, feeling guilt for laying on her lap, looking at her with bloodshot eyes. "I have one more thing to tell you, and that's my last secret between us." Rory explained, "but you have to promise me it doesn't leave this room. You can't tell Conor, or Ma or Maurie, you canne tell Tall Yank...and you must not contact Percy about it even though you'll want to, okay?"

She watched him picking up the plush with a kind of softness that she hadn't afforded herself with him until now, the little brunette let the anger that she had been storing up inside herself dissipate as he laid in her lap. It would do her no good anyway. "Me too, this.. this is my home." Fauna said finding it slightly odd to say aloud but true all the same. "Okay, that's fine. Getting your meds adjusted is important. We'll get you an appointment." She was so glad that he was agreeing, that he was going to try at being better. The submissive had always been resistant to the idea of therapy, and there had been no spare money for it in Belfast but she knew that if Rory was going the subject would be raised again. She was slightly startled when he sat up, frowning a little at his request. She didn't like the idea of secrets from Sawyer, and she certainly didn't like the sound of not being able to talk to Percy about it. She paused for a long moment before she finally nodded. "Alright."

He froze, not sure where to start. But every story had a beginning, middle and end, so he guessed that was the best way to structure it. "Um, so you know when we were 17 and...and I..." He trailed off with a hand gesture. They had never spoken about his suicide attempt before, not in coherent sentences anyway, and even now it felt like it was forbidden to say out loud, to talk about that night. When it was clear Fauna got what he was referring to, he continued. "Well when it was time to pick me up after my evaluations, it was...Percy, right? And well..." Rory took a deep breath, closing his eyes, suddenly back in the darkness of his father's car, on the drive, the scared 17 year old boy wih a freshly broken heart and a confirmed broken brain. He was vaguely aware he was quoting Percy's words to Fauna on autopilot, the scene playing in his head so often he didn't even stutter, remembering every word, every pause for breath perfectly. He opened his eyes, rubbing the tears from his eyes with the palm of his hand. A part of him felt dirty, for further soiling Percy's less than stellar reputation. At the end of the day, he was Fauna's father. Conor's father. It was clear from day one that Percy never saw Rory as his son, and Rory secretly hoped it was true, despite the DNA test he took when he was 16. But they never had a bond, never had a reason to have each other's backs. But Fauna still had her chance, as did Conor. And recounting that night to his twin felt like the final nail in the Percy trust coffin. "Um, so." He shrugged, feeling awkward again, "I'm sorry I never told you...but I never knew how." Rory finalised. It was weak, but it was the truth.

Fauna swallowed hard the minute he mentioned the thing that they never mentioned. The worst day of her life, had been the day the call had come in. There had been a guy in her room at the time, one of the dentistry guys. She’d ignored her phone the first time, but on the second she’d made him grown with disappointment when she’d pulled away to answer it. Fauna would never forget the feeling of pure fear and horror, and the tears. Her eyes had stung with them as she’d tossed the guy out. Clutching the phone like a lifeline. “I remember.” She says thickly, as she swallows the memory down. The urge to be somewhere else gnawing at the edges of her brain. Belfast zoo called. But she shoved it away, to be present for Rory. It gets worse. And her twins confession leads her to let out a kind of choked sob like a wounded animal. How could anyone ever say that to her brother? Her sweet, funny brother who had been sad enough that he really thought the world would be better without him. She felt like she had been stabbed, as if Percy had indeed driven a knife through her. She was full of grief and anger, and she had no idea where to put it. “No.” She said in a small choked voice. “No..” Surging forward, she wrapped her arms right around her brother consuming in him her. “I hope he dies. I hope he dies and nobody ever fucking notices.” She whispers, imagining Percy rotting in his office whiskey in hand. “Don’t be sorry.. it’s the very worst thing he could have ever said.. I’m sorry.. I’m sorry.”

The hug was unexpected, but gladly welcomed. He wrapped his arms around her, both of them sobbing, tears bounding from their faces and into their clothes, into their hair. It didn’t matter, they were going to be fine together. He wasn’t going to let her down, he wasn’t going to lie or keep secrets anymore. He felt weirdly relieved by sharing what he had, even if a part of him was terrified it was going to get back to Percy. He knew Fauna wouldn’t if she could help it, and he’d rather this conversation be abandoned in this bedroom to die out, to finally free Rory of the years of the self doubt and hatred he carried around. “I hope he suffers a long and unhappy life.” Rory murmured back, the ghost of an evil grin on his face as he imagined all the turmoil he wished to inflict upon their father. “Please don’t be sorry Fairy, you’ve been nothing but good for me. I want to be good back, I just needed to tell you first.” Rory explained, stroking her hair, not wanting her to let go just yet, even if the tiredness in his bones was setting, his head aching from the lack of alcohol and drugs in his system, body groaning from how he spent his years abusing it. “I’ll take my meds and I’ll go to therapy and I’ll drink pretentious smoothies instead of alcohol, I just don’t want to lose you ever again.”

She took this knowledge, this heavy poisonous secret and buried in the graveyard of things that she didn’t touch. Fauna finally put Percy where he belonged, with Harold, with Drayton with Calvin. That’s the company that he should keep. It’s all he deserved. She let her brother stroke the head of messy curls that she was sporting, and cried herself out. Tired from the amount of times she’d found her stomach aching from the sobs in the past couple of days. “You are good Cub.” She told him quietly, her thumb coming up to swipe across his jaw bone. “As long as you’re trying that’s all that matters to me Ror. I won’t judge or be angry with you if it’s hard at first but I just want you to let me help you. That’s all I want.” She promised, hoping he could feel how true it was. Feel how much she loved him. “You and Sawyer can be sober buddies, I’m getting really good at mocktails now. I’ll make up a non alcoholic Rory for you.”

The moment lingered, letting the two twins who hurt -- hurt from their own experiences, from their joint miserable childhood, to helping the other one carry the burden over the years -- just breathe for a moment. To just co-exist together for a second. He nodded at her affirmation, too tired to argue with her. "I want you to help me." Rory agreed, knowing that it would make her happy if she could put him back on track. However, he couldn't help but roll his eyes at her next comment. "I canne believe I'm becoming a nerd who drinks those pretentious smoothies." He joked, booping her nose. "I'll hold you to that, I want a virgin mojito that will knock my socks off." He laughed, weak but genuine. "Can we have a nap now, Fairy? I'm exhausted."

She kissed his cheek tasting where the tears had been, and hoping that she didn’t have to find anymore tears there for a while. “I will Cub.. I will help you until my little socks fall off.” She promised, meaning it with her whole body. “You’re not becoming a nerd.. and smoothies are nice. I happen to like a strawberry smoothie after the gym.” The brunette countered, and then nodded. “It will be the worlds greatest virgin mojito, Fauna Eloise is never second best at anything.” She promised her twin. “Yeah.. but let’s go through to my room with Butterscotch.. kay?”

“I have a lot of spare socks if you need them.” Rory murmured, letting her take his hand, take control. He hated the fact he needed someone to run his life for him, but it was an argument for another day, for when he was simply better enough to be given the responsibility of making his own decisions. “The gym is for nerds too.” He grumbled, “But fine, only if you make my mocktails or I’ll just drink milkshakes forever.” They headed into the master bedroom, the smell of it strongly like Yankeedoodle’s aftershave, though he beelined for Fauna’s side, her pillow smelling soft and sweet, Butterscotch tucked under his arm, smelling like home. He kicked off his shoes, glancing up at her. “Come spoon me?” He asked, his voice cracking slightly, not ready to be alone just yet, and knowing she needed the sleep as much as him.

“I’m alright for socks just now but I’ll let you know if that changes.” Fauna responded, feeling somewhat at peace as they entered her and Sawyers bedroom. However silly the notion was, she always felt like nothing really bad could ever happen to her in there. She actually let out a little giggle as Rory ran for her side of the bed, scooping up butterscotch. She pulled off the skirt she was wearing so that she was just in Sawyers shirt and climbed in bed next to him. “Good night Cub.. I love you.”

His body relaxed when he felt the warmth of his twin pressed next to him, snuggling into the soft pillow. It wasn’t exactly home, this weird apartment block on an island off Florida, but he was with Fauna. That was home enough for him. She was Home. “I love you too, Fairy,” He mumbled, letting the long-awaited sleep take over him, no longer fighting it as he had the last few days. He needed all the energy he had to beat his addiction, to make Fauna proud. “Sweet dreams.” And with that, he slept, letting the darkness of unconscious finally take hold of him.

[cabinofimagines]

The Only Choice

Fluff | Smut | Angst

Warnings: Explicit sex scenes, Spanking, Swearing (as always bc it’s me).

Summary:

You've been best friends with Percy Jackson for as long as you can remember. But when your former friend Annabeth gains feelings for him, it affects your relationship with each of them greatly.

Part one

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13 days. It had been 13 godforsaken days since you spoke to your best friend Percy Jackson. Two weeks since you got in an argument about said boy always putting you second in everything when you have always put him first. You had actively been ignoring him since that evening, partly because you were embarrassed on how you handled your outburst and partly because you knew his answer already. You had caught him off guard and he failed to produce an answer in a situation like that, he didn’t even try to form an explanation. So you left.

He had tried to talk to you various times, at dinner, in your cabin, when you hung out with your friends, and even at your mandatory duties when you couldn’t run away and leave your post. Each time you managed to evade him in the weirdest of ways, at one point you almost sprained your ankle when you tried to dart out of an escape hatch in bunker nine after he found you hanging with Leo. You didn’t want to talk to him anymore, hoping that the longer you were away from him the faster your feelings would disappear into thin air, but it only got worse.

Your heart was hurting you couldn’t stand the thought of him with Annabeth. There was no point in him talking to you, you knew he would only try to explain how he wasn’t replacing you with Annabeth and how they’d been friends since they were 12, but you weren’t blind. You saw the way she looked at him with longing, you saw how much she wanted him, how much she wanted him to be hers. Just like you.

You couldn't stand it, you'd been in love with him way longer, but she just comes in and kisses him like it's no big deal. You thought the two of you were friends, she knew about your crush on your best friend and she still kissed him.

It was now two weeks after that argument when you went to find her, only wanting to know why she did what she did. You trusted her, she was your friend once before and you trusted her not to go after the one guy you told her you genuinely like. You were getting heated just thinking about it, especially since she acted on it and took the one joy you had in this sad life as a demigod.

You found her at the arena, marching right up to her as she was strapping on armor to spar with her sibling Malcolm. You didn’t bother to ask if you could borrow her for a moment, but instead, you pulled her to the side, asking her calmly, “Why did you kiss Percy?”.

Annabeth looked at you with sorry eyes, “Y/n... “ she spoke softly, “I thought you’d understand. I- I thought you understand how much I want to be with him. I thought you’d want him to be happy, that you’d want me to be happy.”

You laughed at her, “You fucking precious bitch.” You gave her a deadpan stare, tonguing the inside of your cheek in irritation. You enunciated her exact words back to her in an unbelieving tone, “You thought I’d understand how happy you’d be with him?” You didn’t wait for an answer, “The only thing I’m understanding is the fact that you’re a two-faced cunt who went after the only guy I actually cared for.”

She winced at your tone, trying to shush you while trying to defuse the situation before someone else caught on and began spreading rumors. She shook her head at you, eyebrows scrunched together as she tried to remain calm, but her cool was cracking quickly, “I’m sorry, I can’t control how I feel--”

“Fuck you,” you spat with fire in your eyes, “You knew how much I love him and you still chased after him.” You took a deep and shaky breath, “We used to be such good friends before this, what the hell, Annie?”

She looked away at the mention of her nickname, almost as if she were ashamed of what she has done.

You didn’t even notice how close you were getting until you were right in her face, faces only a few inches apart from one another, “Had I known that you’d be such a lying miserable little bitch--”

“Hey!” She shouted in your face, hand coming up to grab your shirt and jerk you forward. She glared at you like you were one of the monsters that attack your kind, she was getting ready to throw you around right when someone intervened.

Percy jumped in between you both, pushing you both away from each other and exchanging cautious looks with both you and Annabeth. He locked eyes with you, sea green eyes searching your own, but you hadn’t stopped glaring back at the blonde girl across from you. He reached over to you, grabbing both of your arms and quietly saying your name in order to break your concentration on the other female. You attempted to jerk away from him, but he tightened his hold on you, focused on getting you out of this situation before it escalated further.

“Let go of me, Perseus.” You growled lowly, craning your head to give Annabeth one last hateful glare.

He ignored you and instead tugged you along to the closest place of solitude, his cabin. You fought him the entire way there, shoving and kicking to get away from him and back to the arena to take out all of your pent up frustrations on Annabeth. It wasn’t until he shut the door behind him when you stopped fighting so much, a little tired from all of your struggles.

You glanced up at him quickly to see him rubbing his temples with closed eyes, clearly trying to clear his mind in order to form a coherent thought. You felt a part of yourself wanting to go ask him how you could help and if he wanted to drown his worries with popcorn and Finding Nemo. But then you realized that you were the reason he was massaging his temples right now.

He opened his eyes to find you staring at him just before you averted your gaze to the old floorboards beneath you. He watched with sad eyes as you crossed your arms over your chest defensively. Percy quietly shuffled over to you, both hands coming up to cup your face and thumbs smoothing over the apples of your cheeks.

“Please… talk to me.”

You pulled your face away from his grasp, pushing him away from you silently and turning to leave. You couldn’t stay like this, your emotions were close to detonation and Percy should not be in range, he couldn’t be.

He reacted swiftly, reaching out to grab your hand in desperation, “Y/n at least look at me!” He cried out, “Just please… please.”

You halted for a moment, chest aching at the sound of his broken voice pleading with you to stay. You couldn’t stay though, you just couldn’t.

You jerked away from him once more without further interference, hand successfully wrapping around the doorknob. Then you were tugged back to him, his big hand wrapped around yours as you collided into his broad chest. You let out a growl of frustration, pushing him off of you almost immediately, effectively throwing him backward a few steps.

“What’s your problem, Y/n?” He yelled, his anger peeking through finally.

You retaliate instantly, ”The fact that you always choose your fucking backstabbing girlfriend over me who you've known since gods know when!”

His eyes flashed dangerously, “She's not my fucking girlfriend.”

You scoff and jerk your hand away from him, hating how much you longed for his touch. All you really wanted to do was to cling on to him, to cry out and ask him, beg him not to leave you behind, but you were so much better than that. “Might as well be,” your own voice was faltering now, ”I'm sure she makes you pretty damn happy.”

He shook his head, fingers trailing up to his scalp and tugging at the ebony strands, “Fuck Y/n, you have it all wrong!” You rolled your eyes, “I think it's crystal clear how you both feel so I'll just leave you both alone from now on.”

You turn to leave once more without anyone stopping you, but right as your hand was about to touch the doorknob you heard him yell in frustration, “Gods fucking dammit.”

Next thing you know you were pinned against the door of cabin three.

His ebony hair was in messy disarray, sea green eyes dark with lust, and hot breath fanning over you. His chest was heaving and occasionally brushing against your own. His eyes were searching your eyes for any discomfort before they trailed down to your lips and lingered there.

“Sometimes you really piss me off.”

You didn’t say a word back to him, still in shock that you were in this position, hands pinned above your head as Percy Jackson stared down at your lips with dark eyes. You gulped, waiting for his eyes to come back to your own, but they never did.

He smashed his lips against your own, teeth grazing your bottom lip causing you to shudder involuntarily. He withdrew for a moment, gauging your reaction before he continued, this time pressing his body against your own and wedging his thigh between your own legs. One of his hands let one of your own go, trailing down your side to your hip, massaging the skin there tenderly.

You gasped, his lips leaving your own and going towards your jawline and trailing up to your ear, “Percy…” You whimpered out, his lips attaching to your jugular and leaving what is sure to be prominent marks.

He growled out, pecking the marks he left, “I’ve wanted this for so long,” he mumbled while he moved to your collarbones, “gods I want to know what you taste like.” This caused you to groan out, freehand coming to the hairs and the nape of his neck, tangling with them.

He broke away from you completely and removed your shirt in haste, your polka dot bra didn’t faze him in the slightest. One hand went behind your back to unlatch your bra while the other played with your covered breast, “I tried to fucking tell you how I felt but you just didn’t want to hear it.”

You arched your back to accommodate him, scoffing and rolling your eyes at his words, “You can’t blame me.” Your bra came undone with a click, lowering your arms so that it tapered off into the floor. This was one of your many fantasies with him, his hands wandering over your skin, his mouth leaving many different marks of all shapes and sizes across your skin, showing everyone in camp who you were to the son of the sea god.

He bit his lip, hoisting both of your legs around his waist like it was nothing but a paperweight, “Shut up and kiss me.” He grunted, slamming his mouth back to your own, grinding against you so much that you began to feel his bulge rubbing against your core. A confident smirk slipped across his swollen lips just as he pulled away just long enough to find the button of your jean shorts, popping them open and dragging the zipper down quickly.

You leaned forward to capture his lips once more, your heart pounding out of your chest, you wondered if he could hear it. The sweet but salty taste of his lips was incredibly intoxicating, each taste you got only left you wanting more, wondering how anything could ever taste this good.

His slender fingers drifted underneath the elastic of your underwear and found their way to your core, his chilling touch leaving goosebumps across your skin. His kisses grew deeper as trailed his fingers over your slit, collecting all of your arousal and releasing a low groan. His forehead rested against your own, both of you panting from the lack of air. His eyes were hazy with lust, biting his bottom lip, letting a single digit dip into your heat quickly to test out how wet you really were, “Fuck baby girl,” he cooed at you, the pet name sounding so right rolling off of his tongue, “all of this for me?”

You watch with hooded eyes as he retracted his hand slowly, inserting the finger in his mouth and tasting you all while he looked straight into your eyes. You whined quietly, the sight shooting heat straight to your core, gods you needed some type of friction. You press your hips into his, collecting a hiss from him, his finger slipping out of his mouth with a pop.

He dropped you suddenly, your legs falling from their place around his hips and to the floor beneath. You probably would have fallen had it not been for the strong arm he had latched around your waist, tugging you upright and toward his chest. He cocked his head to the side signaling the bed which was a few strides away, “Go spread your pretty legs for me, huh?”

You did as told, almost running to the bed and leaping onto it because you were so excited. Your eyes connected with his approaching form, large hands removing his shirt and revealing a toned work of art. You bit your lip at the sight, parting your legs for the male before you. His hands then moved to the hem of his sweats, stepping out of them and casting them aside before he pushed your shoulders back into the bed, mouth coming to your nipples and sucking harshly.

You arched your back and let out a low moan, fingers threading through his dark hair and gripping the roots for support. He playfully nipped at your sensitive bud, toying the other between his calloused fingers. He released with a pop only a few moments later, the chill air making sudden contact with the wet skin caused you to flinch slightly. He trailed his lips down your stomach, sucking marks into the skin above your pelvis as he pulled your shorts and underwear down your legs before discarding them to some unknown corner of the room.

As he raised his head to look down at the new bits of skin, he paused. He played with his bottom lip, licking it quickly before biting down, his gaze never leaving your slick lips while his hand continued massaging your breast. You began to feel nervous underneath his gaze, both hands coming down quickly to cover your most intimate parts up. He was shocked to say the least, glancing back up at you swiftly before removing your hands with own, intertwining one of your hands with his, “I want to see all of you.” He stated simply.

He leaned up and gave you a quick pick on the lips, taking you completely off guard. Before you could further question his actions he was between your thighs, lapping at your core hungrily. You gripped the navy bedspread beneath you, moaning out his name loudly between pants. If Percy hadn’t taken your breath away before this encounter, he was making absolutely sure that he was now. He traced a slender digit around your entrance teasingly just before he dipped it inside of your heat. Your breath hitched, stuttering madly as he pushed in and out of you slowly, outlining your clit with the tip of his tongue and attaching his lips to the bundle of nerves.

You hiss and sputter out curses, “Dammit Perce stop teasing me.” You were so needy for his touch. You hadn’t been able to touch him for weeks, thinking you’ll never get to see him again after Annabeth stole him from you, or she tried at least. In the midst of your actions you felt yourself grow smug because here was the boy, you two were fighting over, fucking you.

He chuckled, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body and eliciting yet another hum of pleasure from you. Your plea, however, did not faze him one bit as he only added in another finger, stretching you out while licking stripes over your core.

“You taste even sweeter than I imagined, damn I could get used to this.” He mused to himself, suckling on your clit and causing your mouth to form an ‘o’ shape. In goes another finger, curling up and brushing your g-spot in the most euphoric way, winding up the coil in your stomach. You couldn’t even get a word out, choking on your moans as he relentlessly thrust in and out of you, sucking and nibbling at your sensitive clit.

You were getting close to your climax, getting more and more vocal the more he pushed you to the edge. He sped up intentionally, wanting to get you as close as possible just so he could pull away and deny you your orgasm. Just as you whimpered out a warning, he pulled away with a lopsided smirk covering his tan features, “You’re not coming until I’m inside you, I wanna feel that pretty pussy around me when you come.”

HIs dirty words softened your anger towards him, still upset that he pulled away right when you were about to fall over the edge. You went to crawl towards him, fingertips brushing over the strained material of his black boxer briefs ad palming his length through them. He let out a hiss, hand catching your wrist and meeting your lustful gaze with a hazy but warning look.

You pressed on, jerking your hand free and pulling down the elastic to free his erection, springing free and slapping against his stomach. He let out a throaty groan, sea green eyes squeezed shut as the cold air of the cabin made contact with his throbbing member. You took him in your hands, spreading the precum leaking out over his tip, moving your hands up and down the member.

His eyes flashed open, pushing you back onto the sheets suddenly, he positioned himself at your entrance, connecting his lips with yours just as he pushed himself inside of you slowly. You whimpered and gripped onto his shoulders, legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his hips, urging him to keep moving. You could taste yourself on his lips as he kissed you, but you couldn’t understand what he was talking about when he was talking about your taste.

He started off slow and only began picking up the pace when you hissed at him to move faster, your hooded eyes flashing with need. You ran your hands over the panels of his chest, years of training has proven to work, all the proof is right under your fingertips. He ground into you, one arm supporting himself above you while the other slipped underneath your back, embracing you flush against him. You met each of his thrusts with your own, wanting more than he was currently giving you.

You growled and twisted your hips so that you were riding him, further turning him on when you started to bounce on him as fast as your body would allow. His hands went straight to your ass, fondling the skin while he assisted you in your mission to set the pace you needed. Your hands were stilling exploring his chest, one occasionally slipping up to his neck to his ebony locks.

He felt so good inside of you, brushing your walls in such a euphoric way it was intoxicating. You clenched around him, causing him to hiss and leave a stinging sensation on your ass. He spanked you a few more times, gripping the flesh and soothing it afterward, causing a stream of swears to leave your lips. When you began growing tired, slowing your pace and slowly slipping down to his chest, he halted your movements and pulled out momentarily.

He flipped you over, pushing your upper body into the mattress and lifting your backside upwards. He stood in his knees behind you, wasting no more time by slipping in and continuing at the original fast pace you had set. You let out a gasp, turning your head to watch him pound into from behind, his thick brows scrunched together while he focused explicitly on pleasing you.

He met your own eyes, watching you intently as he leaned forwards and snaked an arm beneath your stomach, fingers finding your clit once more and playing with it roughly. You couldn’t help the needy whimpers that escaped your mouth, “P-Percy, I’m getting--” He interrupted with his own grunts, the way you were squeezing him was bringing him to the edge as well, “Fuck, I know baby.”

His thrusts grew erratic as he began losing control over himself, wanting to reach that high alongside you. With a few more thrusts you came undone with him following shortly after, both of you moaning out the others names save for a few swears here and there. Percy hadn’t pulled out though, he was milking this feeling, the feeling of your walls contracting around him as his seed began to drip out of your entrance.

You pulled away from him, wobbly legs making the attempt to turn around so much harder. Once finally facing him you gripped his bicep, catching his attention right away, “Does this mean we can go back to talking?” He asked innocently, drastically different from how he was just acting. You were stunned and slightly hurt, thinking that he just slept with you to get you to talk to him.

“Go back…?”

He nodded, eyes wide as he reached out to wrap your naked body in his embrace, “I missed you so much…” when he noticed how tense you were he sighed deeply, “It was always you, y’know. I never even considered Annabeth as a girlfriend.” You relaxed a little, cocking your brow curiously, urging him to go on with a nod of your head.

“I distanced myself because I didn’t think you felt the same way, but when you got mad at me that day for putting you second… I was...stunned speechless.” He paused, nuzzling his nose into your neck, “I thought you’d never speak to me again.”

You sighed, hand coming up to stroke his hair comfortingly, choosing your words carefully, “I felt like I wasn’t important to you, Perce.” You closed your eyes as he peppered your neck with more kisses, the front of his messy locks brushing your neck softly. You never wanted to feel like you weren’t important again because you were just as valid as everyone else. There was no reason for him to make you feel that way.

“Let’s try out ‘us’,” You spoke slowly, watching as his head lifted up swiftly and his eyes twinkling in hope, “But I’m not a second choice, I won’t ever be second again, okay?”

He grinned widely, letting out a chuckle as he kissed you deeply, “Never again, promise!” You smiled at his words, pecking his nose softly as he continued, “You’re the only choice.”

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.

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-Day

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Widomauk Week 2019

Day 3- Tarot

Coincidentally, also a modern au! Because thats just kind of what I like to write

(Discussion of sex)

The day had been one of those achingly rare ones, the ones that were empty of any work, any responsibilities, any duties. A day where Caleb had been entirely at his own mercy with no classes or papers due in anytime soon. Just a long, yawning day for him to fill with whatever he liked.

Not long ago, the idea of a day like that would have set his nerves jangling and shrieking like alarm bells. He’d once hated having nothing to do, nothing to keep his hands busy and his mind from straying to places he didn’t want it to go. A year ago, upon finding himself in a position like this, he would have either scavenged some classwork or studying to do, desperately clawing for an assigned purpose, or sunk into a depression that he might not have got himself out of for a week.

But things were different now, so different that Caleb had to wonder sometimes if he’d woken up as someone entirely new one day and just not realised it. Someone who smiled and slept more than three hours a night, someone who talked with others and only spent a few days with a roiling stomach ache brought on by anxiety. And even then, when he did feel like that, he would simply go and tell one of his friends and they would sit with him and help him remember that it would only ever be temporary.

And then one of his friends had become something more, something he’d truly never thought he’d ever have.

On his one, rare day off, Mollymauk had woken him well past sunrise with gentle kisses pressed to the nape of his neck and arms wrapping around his middle. Sleepy, gentle sex had followed without neither of them having to say a word, only giggling and trading a good morning back and forth once the two of them were panting, rumpled and sweating slightly. A late breakfast, kisses that tasted of chocolate and coffee on the threadbare second hand couch, a shared shower that went about the way you’d expect, a movie down at the theatre that neither of them particularly wanted to see but still managed to laugh all the way through by whispering comments to each other, all this went by with no effort at all. Not a single second did Caleb spend as prey to his own thoughts, worrying about things he should be doing or why there wasn’t anything he should be doing. The day was warm and bright for the verge of winter, Mollymauk’s hand was in his own and there was no reason to be afraid.

Now the long, warm day had turned into a chilly dusk that felt like it had no end, just a cool purple haze the two of them had sunken into like flies in amber. The thick curtains in Molly’s room kept out the worst of the cold that came along with the settling night while not losing the thick, orange light of the sunset. It made the whole room, with its deep purples and dark blues and gold highlighting, come to life with some strange ethereal warmth like they were in the sunset itself.

Caleb lay sprawled on Molly’s bed with one of his pillows propping up his chin. Every so often he’d bury his nose in it and inhale as deep as he possibly could, smelling his boyfriend’s cologne and the mango shampoo he’d been favouring lately and the lavender oil he rubbed onto his horns before bed. Just as Mollymauk was half a hundred colours, he was half a hundred scents as well and Caleb was determined to memorise them all.

Molly was sat on the floor, his battered old keyboard across his knees, scratching idly at the marker pen scrawling he’d done and redone over and over so he’d know which key was which note. His journal was open and some notes were scratched into it but they were the first few hesitant steps into unknown ground, nothing that was really at a good, solid run yet. He was picking some little riffs out here and there but most of it was a lot of frowning and scrawling in his books. Caleb knew Molly’s process by now, it would be a lot of this, a lot of huffing and fussing and smoking joints and melodrama until he worked the song out of his system. But Caleb always got the sense that Molly rather liked this part, he liked playing the tortured artist. And in the end the song would be wonderful, his usual mix of bittersweet and esoteric and otherworldly. . Molly just didn’t seem to remember that part right now.

“You need to take a break,” Caleb observed from the pillow.

“Why?” Molly craned his neck back to look at him upside down, “Because everything I’ve ever written sucks ass and my dreams of being a musician are completely futile?”

Caleb tried to hide the fact that the corners of his mouth were twitching upwards, “No. Don’t put your writer’s block’s words in my mouth.”

“It’s true,” Molly grumbled, turning back to the keyboard and walking his fingers across it to make a frustrated, discordant tune.

Caleb shuffled forward enough that he could kiss the top of Molly’s head. His hair had been getting very long lately, growing out of the undercut he used to keep it in. He’d spoken wistfully the other night of having hair right down to his waist.

“You’re trying to force it and it’s getting you all knotted up,” he observed sagely, “It’s like when I learn a new spell, happens every time. You get so frustrated when it doesn’t work after a hundred times but once you let go of that and turn away from it, it takes hold.”

Molly grunted, leaning back into his embrace, “Quit being so wise or you’re gonna make me admit you’re right.”

Caleb laughed at that, reaching down to bat the keyboard off his knees, “Come up here with me. A watched pot never boils and all that.”

“Sounds like a good way to burn my apartment down,” Molly hummed but he clambered up on his bed all the same.

For a little while all they did was enjoy their closeness, Molly’s hands on Caleb’s waist, Caleb’s face resting in the crook of Molly’s neck. He could remember a time when he’d flinch away from any kind of touch like this, like if anyone’s fingertips so much as brushed him, they’d see he wasn’t really there and the illusion would be broken. But since they’d found each other, he’d become a glutton for it, for feeling someone else’s hair tickling his nose, hearing a soft, gentle breath in his ear.

Until Molly broke apart, eyes shining in that way they did when he’d seized on a potentially wonderful, potentially destructive idea.

“Let’s play a card game to pass the time!”

Caleb tilted his head, “I kind of thought we were working our way towards a different activity…”

“Oh, we’ll fuck, don’t worry,” Molly laid a soothing hand on his boyfriend’s arm, “But this will make it even more fun!”

Caleb leaned back, curiosity sparked. Molly’s homebrewed card games were usually amazing and usually involved the revealing of scandalous secrets.

And after Molly had eagerly withdrawn his favourite tarot deck from his desk drawer and explained the rules, in a tone that made it sound like he was definitely making this up on the spot, Caleb saw that this one would be no different.

A question on the deck. Players withdrew two cards. Lower value card meant you had to answer the question. And from the way his red eyes narrowed and his tail lashed, Caleb knew the nature of those questions.

“Sounds fun,” he grinned, lying back on the pillows, letting the oversized shirt he was wearing ride up just a little. Two could play at that game.

“Nice easy one to start off with,” Molly declared, setting the cards, neatly shuffled, between them on Caleb’s discarded book like an island in the inky sea of his bedsheets, “Who was your first?”

Caleb snorted, “You already know that.”

“Hence why it’s easy,” Molly retorted, stretching out with an effortless laziness. He was wearing one of Caleb’s shirts as well, with boxer shorts that barely qualified as such given how small they were, showing off majority of his long tattooed legs.

“Okay, okay…”

Caleb drew the second card, Molly drew the sixth. He grinned wickedly as he showed off The Lovers.

“Appropriate,” Caleb smirked, “Alright. As you well know, my first was my roommate from boarding school when I was seventeen. Percy.”

“Come on, you can’t be that stingy with the details!”

Caleb huffed out a laugh, “There aren’t really that many! Pretty standard missionary under his blanket in bed, terrified the whole time that we’d get caught. It was the time after in the library that’s really good…”

“Wait, what?” Molly sat bolt upright, eyes shining, “Spill it!”

Caleb merely shrugged with exaggerated innocence, sliding his card back into the deck, “Not part of the question, is it?”

“Asshole!” Molly declared, surging forward into the next round with renewed eagerness, “Next question, where’s the wildest place you’ve ever had sex?”

“Don’t I ever get to pick the question?”

“I have decided no, on the grounds that you are an asshole.”

Caleb chortled when Molly drew the sixth and he drew the eighteenth.

The tiefling shrugged carelessly, “It’s fine. Weirdest place I’ve ever had sex…probably in the bathroom of the pizza place on Sixth street.”

Caleb had to splutter a little at that, “No way, really? And you go back there?”

“I never said I got caught,” Molly points out, wagging his finger, “And when the hot half elf you’re seeing takes you out dancing with a vibrating plug in you, you’ll have sex anywhere, believe me.”

“We are never going back there…”

“Why? It’s got the best pizza.”

They traded back and forth like this for a while, until their throats were raspy from laughing and their jaws sore from grinning. Caleb quickly realised his stories were never going to be as exciting or varied as Mollymauk’s but he did get to tell him the story of the time he sucked Percy’s dick in the book stacks of their school’s library. That had made Molly fidget and purr excitedly, pressing his thighs together as his ears picked up.

The two of them were teetering on the edge of scattering the cards to the floor and making a new story to tell later but Caleb was desperate to get at least one question in. Finally, Molly relented, admitting that the library study was good enough to earn him the right.

Caleb’s hand hovered over the deck, fingers twitching as he thought. What was the one thing he wanted to know more than anything?

Eventually what came out of his mouth was, “What does sex feel like? With the person you’re with now, I mean.”

Mollymauk blinked, his smile softening. He took a card gladly.

On the count of three, they turned them over and then burst out in bewildered laughter. They both held card number six. Though Caleb’s had a clearly different design from the other cards in the deck, they both held some image of two people entwined in each other, two sets of Lovers.

“This is what you get for having an addiction to buying tarot cards, I guess,” Molly shrugged helplessly.

“And for never keeping your stuff neat,” Caleb added, tucking some hair behind his ear, “You go first, though. Because it was my question.”

Molly nodded, thinking for a while, choosing his words carefully. He’d been fidgeting all the way through the game but now he was still, not even his tail twitching in its usual restless way. He looked out of the window as he thought, out into the nearly night.

The stars were coming out, one by one, finding their way through the sunset.

“Having sex with you feels like…it feels like I’ve finally found something I didn’t even know I was looking for. Something that was missing with everyone before. There’s just this piece of it finally in place, its whole, it’s complete…and that’s how I know you’re the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Caleb took a deep breath. He had to get through his answer quickly before he either burst into tears or pinned Mollymauk to the bed or both.

“Being with you makes me realise I deserve to be happy. Because you look at me and you touch me and you kiss me and…and even the parts of me that are small and sad and broken can’t deny how much you love me. And if that’s true then I must deserve it. I must deserve you.”

Molly’s hand had slid into his own after just a few words, holding tight like an anchor. Then it was his lips, as soon as the words left him. The pillows rushed up to meet them as Molly’s tail wrapped around his leg and his mouth found its way past the shirt he wore to the flushed, prickling skin underneath.

The cards fell to the floor, as unnoticed and unremarked as night finally taking hold outside. They forgot the game and left the points not noted, leaving their paper lovers to their own carefully inked embraces.  

It had been a very, very good day.

[bookworlders]

frustrations

note: This was inspired by @knuffled’s “The Roommate Agreement” fic! Is this fanfiction for their fanfiction? Their concept that I ran with: Percy and Annabeth are college roommates and have a friends-with-benefits agreement.

“Motherfucker!” Annabeth yelled as her blueprints slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor, the sheets unrolling in different directions in the hallway. Her fingertips felt the cool metal of her house keys as she rummaged around the bottom of her backpack, and she roughly yanked them out. She pushed the door to her apartment open, and threw her bag on the floor. Leaning her hip against the door so she wouldn’t get locked out, Annabeth gathered her scattered blueprints, before crumpling them up and shoving them in the waste basket next to the door. She let the door slam shut.

Annabeth didn’t bother picking up her backpack or the blueprints that missed the trash can and walked straight to the kitchen. “Entitled, misogynistic, little—” she muttered, pulling out a beer and chugging. Her Intro to Modern Design midterm had been due this morning, and they presented their plans in front of the class. Annabeth kicked off her heels, that dumbass of a professor had required them to dress business casual for the presentation, and collapsed on the couch, beer still in hand.

Her professor had the nerve to call her design “tasteless” and  “lacking uniformity”— the nerve! She finished off the rest of the beer, crushing the can and leaving it on the coffee table, an action she had yelled at Percy multiple times for, but whatever! Annabeth knew that professor had it out for her ever since their first lesson when she had corrected him about Manhattan’s changing skyline getting inspiration from Greco architecture.

She had been tense all week because of this presentation, taking it out on her roommate, snapping at Percy for mundane, petty things every time he crossed paths with her around their apartment. Annabeth glanced at the clock on their DVD player and groaned. Percy would be home from class soon and being the kind, thoughtful jackass he was, she knew he would ask about her presentation and her professor’s criticisms would sting all over again. Oh, gods, and she would lash out him when he was trying to be nice, and she would feel shitty about taking out her frustrations on him.

Annabeth’s eyes flew open. Yes. Taking out her frustrations on Percy was exactly what she needed. She stood up and immediately began stripping. A laugh slipped out of her mouth and she yanked her blazer off, and made quick work of the buttons on her dress shirt. She had never been more grateful for her and Percy’s handy dandy roommates-with-benefits agreement. All she needed was a quick, rough, hard shag from her gorgeous and hot best friend to release some of this pent up frustration and energy from a long week of college midterms.

She’d ambushed Percy like this before once when got home from a late night swim practice, his hair was still wet and smelled like chlorine, but she had already started drinking for the night and couldn’t wait for usual drunken fucks when they got home from whatever bar they met their friends at. She loved those nights, both of them riled up from sexual tension of not being able to touch each other all night while they partied with their college friends. None of their friends knew about their no-strings-attached, meaningless sex pact. It was especially awkward whenever one friends would hint about the two of them or tease about the chemistry they had, Percy and Annabeth protesting and insisting they were just roommates and great friends, that’s all, but blushing nonetheless.

Annabeth shook herself from the memory, she was getting distracted and Percy would be home any minute! She peeled off the last of her clothing, and paused when she got to her bedroom. Annabeth grinned to herself, and turned to Percy’s room instead. They rarely fucked during the day, let alone sober. He would come home and hopefully be pleasantly surprised to find a naked Annabeth in his bed, the thought brought a smug smirk to Annabeth’s face.

She pushed open the door and walked into her roommate’s bedroom. Whenever they did have sex, it was usually in her room and one of their rules was that they never slept through the night in the same bed, so it was interesting being in Percy’s room without him. He had minimal decorations besides a couple of pictures from his summer camp and vacations in Montauk on the wall and a plant his mom brought over once. Annabeth wandered over to his desk where a couple textbooks and notebooks were scattered and his swim meet calendar pinned above it. Annabeth winced and turned a framed picture of Sally and Paul away, they didn’t need to witness this.

Percy’s bed was unmade, his pillows scattered and his dark blue comforter twisted at the foot. Annabeth rolled her eyes and spread the comforter, propped the pillows up, and laid down. Ugh maybe this was a stupid idea, Annabeth thought to herself as she shifted into a comfortable position. She certainly felt stupid, butt naked and waiting for him. Should she display herself? Should she pose–

Annabeth heard the jingle of keys opening the front door and footsteps enter their apartment.

“Annabeth?” She heard Percy call from the hall. The footsteps sounded closer, right outside his bedroom door. Annabeth grinned, he’d find her soon enough.

She saw the door handle turn. “Yeah, your notes are on my desk, let me just—”

“-Oh my god, I am so sorry!-” “Ahh!” “Annabeth, what the hell!”

Annabeth shrieked, wrenching Percy’s comforter on top of herself when freckled redhead girl entered Percy’s room ahead of him. The girl immediately backed out of the room, slamming the door shut, “I’m so sorry!” Annabeth heard her yell through the door. “I’ll be leaving now!”

“But Rachel, your notebook—” Percy protested.

“That’s okay, you can just give them to me at class on Monday,” Annabeth heard hurried footsteps, “Bye!” And the front door slammed shut.

Annabeth’s wrapped his blanket around her tighter and sat up as Percy’s door opened again and he walked in, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Care to explain what the hell that was?” He chuckled.

Annabeth’s face burned and her fury sparked, “I didn’t expect ‘Rachel’ or whoever the hell that was to walk in!”

Percy was still laughing, “Sorry, I didn’t expect you to be laying on my bed naked.”

Annabeth chucked a pillow at him. He caught it with ease, tossing it on his bed, “So what-”

“I didn’t know you were going to bring a girl over,” Annabeth’s face flushed, both with anger and embarrassment.” There was nothing about sleeping with other people in friends-with-benefits agreement, but to Annabeth’s knowledge, neither one of them had since they moved in together at the beginning of the semester.

Percy rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling, “Rachel is in my bio class and she just swung by to get the notes she lent me.”

Annabeth grumbled, gathering his blanket around her like a dress and started to get up off his bed, “Fine, won’t try to surprise you anymore.”

The look in Percy’s eyes changed, and Annabeth felt his eyes rake up and down her body. His voice was huskier when he spoke, “You were just gonna jump my bones as soon as I got home?”

Annabeth gulped, her confidence slowly returning, “Yeah, get started on the action before we go out tonight. If we are going out tonight. Grover texted and asked if we’re meeting at The Big House for drinks tonight.”

Percy tugged his t-shirt off and tossed it to the ground. He gently pushed Annabeth back down onto his bed and climbed on top of her with a searing kiss, “Tell him we’re not going to make it.”

[celtics534]

Natural Chapter 16

So, here we are. The second to last chapter of Natural. Get prepared for quite a ride! 

Read on: FF.net or AO3

Pregnant women are strange, Harry thought as he watched his wife dip a pickle into a jar of peanut butter. They were lounging on their sofa, the room filled with natural light as the wireless crooned in the background. It was comfortable, so comfortable that Harry had almost been lulled to sleep until he heard a loud crunch and saw his wife eating… that.  Now he may never sleep again.

 Five months into her pregnancy and Ginny had fully embraced its quirks. The unique eating habits, her increased body temperature (she had taken to casting cooling charms on whatever room she was in), the really odd dreams, and who could forget Harry’s personal favorite-- an increased libido. Just the other day Harry had been lounging on their bed studying the playbook Wood had created when Ginny basically appeared from thin air and jumped him. Not that he was complaining...quite the opposite, really.  

 Harry figured they were in the peaceful part of pregnancy. According to the books (because yes, he was actually reading them, Mum), this was the easiest part of the experience. Months seven through birth sounded like one of the layers of Hell and Harry was not overly excited for those months, but fuck he was excited to be a father.

 When they told his parents, his mother had cried and nearly hugged them to death. But when James took Harry aside and told him how his life was about to have a bigger meaning than he would have ever thought, that really hit him hard. Father and son had sat in the study drinking and talking, and honestly, it had become one of Harry’s fondest moments with his father.

 “Harry?” Ginny’s voice broke Harry out of his woolgathering.

 “Yes, Gin?” Harry sat up, ready for any task she had.

 “Could you please massage my feet?” Though Ginny had embraced the changes to her body, she didn’t like all of them. The heartburn and swollen feet were two of the worst. The number of foot rubs Harry had given in the last few weeks alone couldn’t be counted.

 He gestured for her to come closer. “Send them my way.”

 Ginny twisted her body so her back rested against the arm of the sofa and her feet were up in Harry’s lap. He tugged off her socks and took one foot into his hands. His thumbs pressed into her arch with knowledgeable precision.

 Harry moved slowly making sure to give every section of her foot plenty of attention. Based on the satisfied moans coming from Ginny, he was doing a good job.

 “Please quit your day job and become my personal foot masseuse.” Ginny arched her freshly rubbed foot, as Harry moved to the next one.

 “I don’t think Coach Cara will like that much.” Harry couldn’t help but smile at Ginny’s unladylike snort.

 “I’ll tell Cara where he can shove it.”

 “Now, now, no need to get violent.”

 Ginny shrugged. “I need a new way to vent. I can’t just go around knocking basic bitches off their brooms for the next few months like usual.”

 Harry paused his magic fingers and looked up at his wife. “You only did that to me once.”

 “And that was enough for you to be inducted into the basic bitch club.” Ginny took another pickle out of the jar and scooped some peanut butter with it.

 “Such loving words from the future mother of my child,” Harry said sarcastically as he dug the pad of his thumb into Ginny’s heel.

 Ginny looked unperturbed. “You knew what you were in for before you knocked me up. Besides, you love it.”

 Harry set her foot down gently before shifting his body so he lay between her hips. Their breaths mixed as Harry leaned in to kiss her. “More than I can say, even with your peanut butter and pickle breath”

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 “Have you seen this?” George flourished the paper at his sister and brother-in-law. The couple were resting on the Burrow’s sitting room sofa, Ginny enjoying an extra slice of pie and Harry a cup of tea. Harry placed his mug on the coffee table and took the paper.

 He quickly scanned over the article that George had folded to, scoffing at the author. “Merlin, they never think before they publish, do they?”

 Ginny leaned onto his shoulder. “They’re talking about my career as if it’s over.”

 George nodded. “That’s what they say on the next page. They say how your impending bundle of joy, who we all pray has his Uncle George’s good looks, will keep you home and off the pitch.”

 Ginny straightened indignantly, her hand naturally coming to rest on her six-month baby bump.  “Just because I’m having a baby doesn’t mean I’m done with quidditch!”

 “Tell that to Witch Weekly,” Fred suggested from his spot by the fireplace.

 “That wouldn’t be the only thing I’d tell those pricks at Witch Weekly,” Ginny muttered darkly. Over the course of her pregnancy, Ginny and Harry had been hounded by the press and it was Ginny’s greatest desire to Bat-Bogey the lot of them. In particular the ever attentive writers at Witch Weekly, who had been harping on about Harry not being the father of their baby, with no evidence whatsoever.  

 “As much as I agree with you, Gin.” Harry placed a hand on his wife’s knee. “I’d rather not have the mother of my child give birth in Azkaban.”

 Ginny raised a ginger eyebrow at him. “That would only happen if they caught me, and I’m pretty sure I’d get away with it.”

 George laughed, nodding his head. “That you could Gin-Gin. It would be just like that time you stole a biscuit from the jar, and you got mum to think it was Ron.”

 “Oh yeah!” Fred shook a finger at his sister. “You are too cunning for your own good. I still don’t know how you convinced mum of that one. Multiple times.”

 Ginny smirked at her twin brothers. “It was rather easy. I just need to send her one of these.” She batted her eyelashes in a way that Harry recognized all too well from the times he hadn’t wanted to do something, and in end had done them. “And then I picked a brother to throw under the bus.”

 Fred let a low whistle. “That’s it?”

 “I would have thought there was more.” George stroked his chin in thought. “What about that time where you made mum think we stole Percy’s favorite quill?”

 “That was you.” Ginny reminded him.

 “Oh yeah. Okay, what about --” Over the course of the next three hours, Harry realized his wife was a nefarious mastermind, and he loved her more for it. But that damn article came back to nag at him throughout the rest of the day whenever left to his own devices.  

 Ginny seemed to still have it on her mind as well because she brought it back up while they finished their nightly routines. “Why is that women are expected to stay home and mind the children?” Harry had already tossed the excess pillows from the bed and crawled into his predetermined side while Ginny had changed into a comfortable pair of sweats and one of Harry’s old shirts. “Just because I want to continue playing after I have a baby doesn’t make me a bad mother.”

 “No, it doesn’t.” Harry faced his wife as she crawled under the covers.

 “Yet, that’s what people will think.” Ginny’s voice was filled with disgust. “I mean I don’t really care what people think, but I still find it fucking annoying.”

 Harry leaned across the small gap between them and pressed his lips to hers, which seemed to be what she needed after her rant. She scooted her body so it was tucked close to his-- well, as close as her extended stomach would allow. He felt her sigh as she pressed her nose into his neck.

 They lay in silence, arms around each other. Content just being there in their bed, where the rest of the world didn’t matter. It was just him and her.

 Harry took a deep breath, inhaling Ginny’s intoxicating scent, before speaking. “I’ve been thinking.”

 “A dangerous pastime, love.” Ginny murmured in a sleepy tone.

 “I know, but what do you think of me minding the baby full time?”

 Ginny shifted in his arms, leaning back so she could look at him in the bare light of the moon shining through the curtain. “What?”

 “Cara is retiring at the end of the year.” Harry guided his hand to rest on her stomach. “And I love quidditch and I do love playing, but not like you do.”

 Ginny reached behind her for her wand and lit the room with a quick wave. When she rolled back to look at him, her eyes blazed like the setting sun. “Are you saying you’re applying for the coaching position?”

 “I’ve already applied and I have it if I want it.” Harry kissed her lightly. “Ginny, I can take the baby with me to practices and what not. There is this little contraption that lets a baby sit on your chest while you walk around. And if the little bugger gets tired I can set up a bassinet in my office with a monitoring charm.”

 “You’ve thought about this a lot, haven't you?”

 “Since the day we found out you were pregnant.”

 Ginny’s jaw dropped. “Seriously?”

 Harry nodded. “I want to do this, Gin. I just need you to be on board with it.”

 “Why wouldn’t I be on board?” Ginny’s hand came up to rub his jaw. “As long as this is truly what you want to do.”

 “It is.” Harry felt like a weight lifted off his chest. “I’ll tell the owner I accept the offer tomorrow.” He took Ginny’s wand, which she had placed in the small gap between them, and turned out the lights.

 They resettled, Ginny turning around so her back was pressed against his chest and his hands could rest on the baby bump. Nothing had ever felt more right to Harry. This was him in his natural habitat. There was no doubt in his mind that he was doing the correct thing.

 The light fluttering pressure on his hand made Harry smile. His child seemed to agree and acknowledged it with a little kick.

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 “How’s the wife, Harry?” Sirius asked as he, Harry, and James settled in comfortable lounge chairs. They had put on the Wasps versus Catapults games on the wireless when they had entered Sirius’ ‘study,’ which was never used to study anything except old muggle motorcycle magazines.

 “Good.” Harry smiled at the mere thought of his seven, almost eight, months pregnant wife. “She’s out shopping with Luna today. Apparently, Luna thinks the baby needs some… well, I’m not quite sure what genre it is because Luna said a word I’d never heard, but a certain type of music.”

 “And Ginny’s all for that?” James asked with a raised brow.

 Harry shrugged. “Yeah, she loves Luna so she takes her suggestions seriously.”

 “What is this music suppose to do?” Sirius asked curiously before taking a large gulp from his beer. “What makes it so dire?”

 “Clear all the baby’s chakras.”

 Sirius blinked once, twice, and third time. “Oh good, I was worried about that.”

 James snorted but smiled. “Well other than chakra cleansing music, what else do you two need?”

 “Not much to be honest.” Harry took a sip from his drink. “Ginny’s already nesting. The last three weeks have consisted of us going out on random shopping trips to buy whatever item she’s thought of. But I think we have all the basics.”

 James placed his glass down and stood from his lazy chair. “Not everything. I have something to show you.” He poked his head out the door to yell for his wife. Lily hurried over from the kitchen where she had been talking with Sirius’ current bird (who had made it an unheard of six months).

 Harry accompanied his parents out of the study and towards the attic, Sirius following behind them like a dog. The old creaky stairs of Sirius’ old London house was the only sound between the group.

 Once they reached the door, James turned to Harry. “You know how I’ve been taking that woodworking class?”

 Harry nodded. He still found it odd that his father had taken up the old muggle art form. Though he did find it adorable when his father visited after a class and had wood shavings in his greying hair.

 “Well, I started this project as soon as you told me about the baby.” James opened the door and lit the oil lamps with a wave of his wand. A dark oak rocking chair sat in the middle of the room. Harry forgot how to speak as he moved over to the chair. He brushed his hand across the finished armrest up to the intricate headrest.

 “Dad --” Harry cleared his throat, hoping to dislodge whatever had gotten stuck. “It’s amazing.”

 “Your mother picked out the design and wood color.” James threw an arm over Harry’s shoulder. The headrest had outlines of two quidditch players. One held a quaffle under their arm and the other was speeding towards a snitch. With a bit of magic, the two figures flew past each other, and their heads turning to look back at the other.

 Lily pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek. “It will be perfect for you and Ginny to rock the little one to sleep.”

 Harry nodded, completely forgoing words as he pulled both his parents into a hug.

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 “I swear I’ve become a beached whale,” Ginny moaned as she adjusted her position on the bed. Her bum had become completely numb. Being eight months pregnant had led to an array of unexpected uncomfortable things. The amount of gas she had for starters…

 “The prettiest beached whale I ever did see.” Harry leaned over to kiss her cheek.

 Ginny snorted. “First of all, you shouldn’t agree with the description of beached whale. As the husband, it’s your job to find an alternative comparison. Secondly, if I hadn’t just found the most comfortable position, I would totally hex you for your impudence.”

 Harry smiled at her threat. “Now you wouldn’t want to hex the father of your child, would you?” Ginny just raised an eyebrow. Harry tried again. “Father of your child that wears glasses? Would that deter you?”

 “You know,” Ginny let her voice drop, becoming sultry. “There is something that could, as you put it, deter me.”

 “Oh?” Harry smile slid into a dirty smirk. He adjusted his body so he was on her side of the mattress, his lips an inch from her ear and his fingers at the hem of her shirt. “What might this interference be?”

 “A big bowl of that vanilla ice cream we have.”

 Harry blinked owlishly for a moment, before chuckling. “Out of everything I had to offer, you pick ice cream.”

 Ginny smiled at him. “I think we both know what your preferred distraction would be, that’s what got me into this mess of hormones and cravings.”

 “And wasn’t it a great diversion. It made me forget about losing to the Tornados.”

 “A pick me up wasn't the only thing you got that night.”

 Harry laughed, pressing a final kiss to her lips and her stomach before rolling off the bed. “Right, because it’s my fault you ambushed me while I was in the shower and you were on a faulty potion.”

 “Obviously.”

 Harry smiled to himself as he headed towards the kitchen. He paused in the doorway when Ginny called his name. He spun to see his gorgeous wife propped up on her pregnancy pillow. He still couldn’t get over how amazing she looked while carrying his child. Merlin, his child, who would be born in a month or two...

 In all honesty, Harry didn’t feel prepared at all. He knew all first-time parents felt like this, between talking with his parents and Ginny. Merlin, he was scared. But then he looked at Ginny and couldn't get it out of his head, how their child will be with them in mere weeks. Her freckled nose with his eyes on their baby’s chubby cheeks. Being able to lay in that very bed and just snuggle their baby as they fall asleep. No, Harry wasn’t prepared at all, but he couldn’t wait.

 “Yes, darling?”

 Ginny gave him that look. The look that she only gave him. Her eyes seemed to melt his brain into a puddle of goo, all the while making sure his body knew he was alive. “Don’t forget about the chocolate sauce and cherry.”  

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 “Only one week until the suspected due date of Ginny Potter.” Mothers reminded the listeners. “Dan, what do you reckon the baby will be? A boy or a girl?”

 “I don’t know.” Dan tapped his chin in consideration. “Witch Weekly claims it’s gonna be a girl because of how she’s carrying, but honestly I’m sensing a boy.”

 “Me too. Harry actually told me last week, after the Puddlemere versus Portree game, that they've decided to wait to find out the gender, so they don’t even know.”

 “Did he have a preference?”

 “No. He just wanted his wife and child to be happy and healthy.” Mothers paused for a second. “Though, he did say he would love to have a daughter that was just as beautiful as her mother. And if that isn’t the sweetest thing you ever did hear…”

 “Harry Potter, star seeker of Puddlemere United, the closet romantic.” Gregory laughed. “If everyone didn’t love our star couple, the birds would be flocking to him.”

 “Ah, here come the teams now.” Mothers tuned the listeners back to the game. “This is Puddlemere versus The Harpies. It will be a different game without Ginny Potter.”

 “This is the first time these two teams will have met this season.” Gregory reminded everyone. “The Harpies’ main driving force last year was Ginny Potter and without her talents… Well, we’ll have to wait and see what the Harpies have up their sleeves.”

 “You can tell Captain Gwenog Jones is thinking along those lines. The glare she just sent Harry Potter.” Mothers chuckled.

 “That’s what he gets for impregnating his wife.” Dan joined his fellow announcer's line of humor. “An angry captain.”

 “Though Ginny is here to watch the game.” Mothers pointed her out in the crowd to Gregory. “She’s here with at least two of her brothers. I think it’s the twin owners of Weasley Wizard Wheezes.”

 “The captains have shaken hands and the balls have been released.” Gregory tuned everyone into the action they were paid to talk about.

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 George waited for Ginny to open her eyes before speaking in a low voice. “You’re in labor aren't you?” Over the last hour, George had seen his sister wince three times before shutting her eyes.

 “It’s fine.” Ginny met his gaze. “They’re still far apart. It’s when they come every four minutes that I need to go see Padma.”

 George gave her a skeptical look, but he didn’t know enough to truly argue with her. “Fine. But you’ll tell me as soon as it’s at the four-minute mark?”

 “Of course.”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Harry took a large gulp of water from his water bottle. The game had been brutal, neither team willing to give any leeway. The number of bludgers Harry had already avoided in the last hour was remarkable.

 He threw the bottle back onto the bench and ran his hand against his forehead, wiping off sweat.

 “Alright, lads.” Cara came over to the squad after talking with Devlin. “The Harpies have come to kill, but we won’t let them. Love, I need you to focus on Hawkins. She’s on point today, and we need to ruin her day.”

 Cara listed off a bunch of plays to help the chasers cover more ground. Finally, he turned to Harry. “Potter, you --” He stopped mid-sentence as a silver coyote ran into the pit.

 “Harry!” The patronus spoke in George’s voice, but with a slight nervousness that was wasn’t normal for the prankster. “Ginny’s in labor. I’m taking her to St Mungo's now.”

 There were ten seconds of stunned silence between the entire team, before Bastille shouted, “Well? Get going, Potter.”

 Harry ran a hand through his hair as the team joined in the chant. His brain couldn’t catch up. Ginny was in labor... Devlin gave him a little shove and finally, Harry’s feet got the message. He ran… straight towards the fireplace in the coach’s office, and to his wife.