#or even Froot Loops

[shrimp-and-rice]

Oh the wonders of inside jokes

[mushroom-through-the-stargate]

no ok you know the little detail of the gift of the gods that has been sticking in my mind? when Daniel comes through the stargate and jack was like "how do we know it's YOU?" and Daniel goes "you settled for waffles this morning because the commissary was out of froot loops" and it FRICKING WORKED-

jack o'neill is obsessed with froot loops. in the timeloop episode he ate the same bite of froot loops for like 4 months straight and everyone was surprised when he was eating his spite oatmeal because you cannot separate this man from his froot loops even with, as teal'c would say, "undomesticated equines" and I'm in love with that little character quirk of his

[crystalmarred]

Send ❤️ for a TENDER, CUDDLY HUG- Hiroto to Kijin(Fruit for Stella ;w;)

MEME ( accepting! ) ⇢ send ❤️ for a tender, cuddly hug. ⇢ @oathofpromises

Before, it'd been rare for X'kijin to get a hug. He could, perhaps, even count the number of them on his own two hands, though it would dwindle drastically to one if he excluded the number of women that had tried to comfort him when he'd first arrived in Gridania.

Though they'd been more frequent since meeting his younger sister, he'd expected that to be the only exception. But through a strange stroke of luck, he'd found himself able to come home to another person, to someone who wanted him there.

And come home he did, through the front door to the smell of freshly baked... He paused, tilted his head back, sniffed the air. Bread, he determined. ... Garlic? No, no, he realized, the smell of it only lingering from last night's dinner.

An easy smile found its way onto his face as he set the bag down on the counter. The fresh herbs he'd bought for a few of the potions he'd been commissioned to brew nearly tumbled from the top of it, but he didn't much mind. X'kijin ventured further into the house, to their room especially where Hiroto lay.

It's an impossible task to kick off his boots normally, but the short heels he'd worn today are easy to peel off. He left on the stockings underneath as he made his way towards the bed, climbed onto it as the bed dipped slightly beneath the weight of his knee.

Had anyone told him months ago that it would feel normal to swing his leg over the waist of another man, he would've thought them a liar. Yet he did exactly that, swung his leg over and leaned into him, smiled as Hiroto jolted away with a jump so slight that X'kijin felt compelled to offer a sheepish apology.

"Sorry, did I scare you?"

Something in Hiroto's smile felt deliciously wicked. Hands touched his waist, slid up his sides. He had long ago molded to Hiroto's more flirtatious nature and the more physically intimate sort of affection that he offered, though X'kijin had ever favored emotional intimacy more than anything else.

"Stop," X'kijin said, though the upward twist of his lips and the fondness in his voice gave away that he didn't mind it in the least bit. His hands pressed to Hiroto's chest, held him there for a brief moment, prevented him from getting up or flipping them for that matter.

"Just lay with me..."

Gentle words are punctuated by X'kijin leaning down, drawn into Hiroto's delicate touch. Their arms wrapped around each other, X'kijin face pressed into the crook of his neck as a purr rumbled from his throat. A single word is whispered into his ear as a kiss is pressed to the shell of it.

"Cute."

So simple a word, yet X'kijin couldn't keep away the grin that formed on his face or the way he pressed further into him, the gentle sway of his tail a dead giveaway of his feelings, despite the bashful whisper that followed, "Shut up..."

[six-of-ravens]

successful errand morning:

went to normal grocery store (not pictured bc boring, except the Casper pumpkin I got to replace the decorative pumpkin that's already going bad)

went to Big Grocery Store, got 4 pie pumpkins and 5 ~decorative gourds~ for under $12 which is Fucking Amazing (also glad I went bc the pumpkins are starting to go a little soft so I bet they won't be there next week)

went to the farmers market, got a giant zucchini (part of it will be for making Mom's chocolate zucchini bday cake), brussel sprouts, barley on a whim, fancy coffee and honey scrub things for my aunt's bday present, fancy honey, pumpkin tea, probably the last raspberries of the year, annnnd elk! wanted to try my Hobbit recipe book's venison stew, but the farmers market didn't have venison (apparently they only get it in once in a blue moon), but they did have elk and that's just like a big deer right? (jk I will google before I cook)

[fatherxvincent]

At the Hyundai place with a pounding headache, no bra, no makeup because I’m a mess who slept in too long.

[kruxton]

hm. having frosties cereal after drinking fanta orange makes it taste like froot loops. and gives you a stomachache. very interesting

[lev1hei1chou]

A What?

Gojo x reader Genre: Fluff Synopsis: You ask for a baby out of nowhere Masterlist Requests open!

"Hey, Satoru, I want a baby."

The man choked on his cereal. Milk splattered across the table, and he coughed, looking at you with wide, incredulous eyes. "You what?"

You grinned, loving his reaction. "I want a baby."

Gojo blinked, processing your words. "Like...a human baby? With diapers and all?"

You laughed. "Yes, Satoru, a human baby. Not a cursed spirit baby or a baby goat. A tiny human."

He leaned back in his chair, still stunned. "You can't just drop a bomb like that while I'm eating my Froot Loops, babe. Give a guy some warning."

You shrugged, leaning over to wipe a speck of milk off his cheek. "I thought you could handle anything."

"Yeah, curses and evil sorcerers, sure. But this...this is a whole new level of scary." He ran a hand through his white hair, making it stand up in more directions than usual. "Are you serious?"

"Dead serious." You sat down across from him, your expression softening. "I think we'd make great parents."

He looked at you, eyes softening. "Of course we would. I mean, look at us. We're awesome."

You snorted. "Modest, as always."

"Hey, it's not arrogance if it's true." He grinned, then grew serious again. "But...a baby? That's a big deal."

"I know. But I want to start a family with you, Satoru."

He was silent for a moment, then his lips curved into a smile. "Okay. Let's do it."

You blinked. "Really? Just like that?"

He shrugged. "Why not? I've always wanted kids. Didn't think about it too much because, you know, job hazards and all. But if you want a baby, then I want a baby. Simple as that."

You laughed, feeling a wave of relief and excitement. "Simple as that, huh?"

"Yep." He stood up, suddenly energized. "Alright, let's make a baby right now."

Your eyes widened. "Satoru, we can't just...it's the middle of the day!"

"Details, details." He waved a hand dismissively. "I'm the strongest sorcerer in the world. I can make time for baby-making."

You couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm. "How romantic."

He waggled his eyebrows. "Oh, I can be romantic. Just you wait."

The next few days were filled with Gojo's attempts at being "romantic." You came home to rose petals scattered all over the living room (which the cat was now batting around), a candlelit dinner (where he nearly set the kitchen on fire), and a bubble bath for two (where he splashed so much water that the bathroom flooded).

"You're really trying, aren't you?" you said, toweling off your hair after the bath fiasco.

He pouted. "I'm trying to set the mood."

You kissed his cheek. "I appreciate it, Satoru. But we don't need all this. Just you and me, together. That's enough."

He smiled, pulling you into his arms. "You're right. As always."

That night, lying in bed, he turned to you with a mischievous look in his eye. "So, about that baby..."

You laughed, swatting his chest. "Okay, okay. Let's do this."

A few weeks later, you found yourself holding a pregnancy test in your hand, heart pounding. Gojo was pacing back and forth in the bathroom, looking more nervous than you'd ever seen him.

"Okay, okay, okay," he muttered. "It's fine. Whatever it says, it's fine."

You glanced at the test, then at him. "Satoru, you need to calm down."

He stopped pacing and looked at you, taking a deep breath. "Right. Calm. I can do calm."

You held up the test, a smile spreading across your face. "We're having a baby."

For a moment, he just stared at you, then he whooped, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around. "We're having a baby! I'm gonna be a dad!"

You laughed, holding onto him. "Yes, you are. And you're going to be amazing."

He set you down, his eyes shining. "We're going to be amazing."

Months passed in a whirlwind of doctor's appointments, baby shopping, and Gojo's over-the-top preparations. He baby-proofed the house, even the ceiling, "just in case the baby is super strong and starts climbing walls."

"Satoru, that's ridiculous," you said, watching as he padded the corners of the coffee table with foam.

He looked up at you, serious. "Safety first, babe."

When the day finally came, Gojo was more nervous than you. He held your hand in the delivery room, eyes wide as he watched the process.

"You're doing great," he whispered, though it seemed like he was saying it more to himself than to you.

Hours later, when the baby finally arrived, Gojo stared at the tiny bundle in his arms, tears in his eyes. "Hi there, little one. I'm your dad."

You smiled, exhausted but happy. "And I'm your mom."

He looked at you, his expression full of love and awe. "We did it."

You nodded, feeling a surge of emotion. "Yeah, we did."

[twinsunsintatooine]

every time i log onto tumblr i get the sudden urge to change my user because WHY DID I NAME MYSELF THEFROOTLOOPMAN IN THE FIRST PLACE??? I HAVE NEVER TRIED FROOT LOOPS???

[fabulouslygaybean]

im having an Experience on the couch eating froot loops at 2am

[yeorisanaxox]

ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ ➤ ᴄᴜᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋs

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ᴡ ᴏᴛ8 x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ ᴍᴏsᴛʟʏ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴɢsᴛ

. ➬sᴄᴇɴᴀʀɪᴏ: ᴄᴜᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴄʜᴇᴇᴋs

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs ɴᴏɴᴇ *ɪꜰ ʟᴏᴡᴇʀᴄᴀsᴇ ɪᴛ ᴡᴀs ɪɴᴛᴇɴᴅᴇᴅ*

ɴᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ sᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇs ᴏɴ ᴍʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴘᴏsᴛs! ɪ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛʟʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ɪᴛ :)

ღhongjoong. You knew when he was frustrated— the sound his pen made, scribbling aggressively over whatever was displeasing him before starting a new page. And the process would repeat until he was too frustrated to even look at his work and bury his face in his palms. Right now he was beating himself up and letting every doubt torment him until tears.

Your hand suddenly touches his shoulder while the other gently pries his hands away from his face and you're met with those glossy eyes. Another tear escapes them as your hands gently cup his cheeks, wiping them away.

“Take a break sweetie. Come lay down for a bit.” You say more like a question, hoping that he would agree. He swallowed down a sob that was burning in his throat, “but—”

“It will all be here waiting when you come back. I promise.”

It was a short moment before he gave in and let you pull him away from his work and onto the studio couch where he realized the second he was in your arms, how exhausted he really was and dozed off not even a second later.

ღseonghwa. The duality of this man was truly unreal. On stage he put on the persona of the most intimidating being created versus off stage and how he was now, curled up underneath your pink blanket that had my melody all over it with his nintendo switch nestled in his hands, playing animal crossing. You never did understand how to play but seeing him so immersed, you weren’t sure if he was aware how close the device was to his face.

“Hwa?”

He hums in response, still looking at the screen, leaving you to have to reach over and cup his cheek and turn him to you. His eyes widened at the action, taken completely off guard. You can only laugh at how adorable he looked and booped his nose.

“The screen was too close. Don’t want you to hurt your eyes.” You tell him and rest your hand back in your lap.

“Oh.” Is all he said but you noted when he lowered the device from his face and went back to the game with a fainted blush that he was trying to bite back.

ღyunho. It was just a prank you had seen on tiktok and wanted to try on him. Walking up to him at mid bite of him stuffing another spoonful of froot loops in his mouth, he pauses when you suddenly put your palm out in front of him. Wiping the trickle of milk off his chin, looking between you and it, trying to piece together exactly what you wanted. Your fingers wiggled around boredly in the air like they were waiting and him not knowing what to do, subconsciously leans forward and places his chin in your palm.

Your instant cooing startles him a bit before he’s nervously laughing at the situation at hand.

“Is that what you wanted?”

ღyeosang. Is the kindest, most gentle soul to ever grace mankind, sometimes you can’t help but to just stare in awe at how politely he’d covered his mouth while laughing or smile shyly whenever the guys would tease him. Sometimes even turning to you with a pout for help. You’d let him lean his head against your shoulder to hide his burning cheeks, gently cooing at him asyour hands would cup them and rub them with your thumbs to comfort him.

ღsan. Always did become a bit clingy when he was drunk. Needing you to be right by his side and clinging on to you by the arm as he nuzzled his face in your neck.

“I’m not even that drunk.” He mumbles, believing it was more so to himself but you still heard it, giggling when he then hiccups, shaking your body too.

“Oh yeah? Let me see.” Nudging your shoulder to help him sit up a little. He still hugs your arm and beams up at you, making his dimples pop out.

“See—” hiccuping again. You can’t resist cupping his cheek and plant a short but sweet kiss to his cheek.

ღmingi. You believe it was one of those days for him. One of those days where he just couldn’t seem to leave your side. Wherever you went, he was sure to follow, always whining out a tiny ‘wait,’ before latching on to your wrist and going with you. Sometimes just to tease him, you can’t help it because he always reacted too wholesomely when you try to pull away from him.

Those boba eyes seemed to glisten brighter as he pouted, feigning hurt all over. You’d cup his cheeks hastily, pulling his face closer to yours, thumbing over them lovingly.

“Sorry princess, you’re just too precious.”

ღwooyoung. If there wasn’t anything this guy loved more, it was having your attention. You just didn’t understand— on the outside, he liked to portray being unbothered and waving an accusing finger of, “you’re so obsessed with me.” When really on the inside, his heart felt like it was going to beat right out his chest.

And whenever you would cup his cheeks before a kiss, it took every muscle to not cripple at your feet. Such a gentle touch yet it made his head feel so dizzy.

“Kiss me.” He mumbles against your lips, causing you to giggle. “I am kissing you honey.”

“Good.” Pecking your lips again, and again, and again. “Don’t stop.”

ღjongho. As much as you loved your boyfriend, sometimes he could be a menacing little shit. Loving how riled up you’d get from his antics, not stopping until you’re huffing and puffing, and folding your arms at him.

Now he was the one who asked if you could help take his makeup off because he felt too lazy to do it but every time you brought the cotton pad near his eyes, he’d turn his head in the other direction.

First, thinking nothing of it until he did it again a second time and a third time, seeing him bite back a smile. By the fourth and fifth, you firmly grabbed underneath his chin and held him in place. *That went straight to his dick ngl* drawing a smirk of your own, seeing him shift below you uncomfortably.

“Be a good boy and be still.”

“Woof.” He responds clearly turned on.

written by yeorisanaxox. No translations or reposting. Leave a like and reblog w [feedback is much appreciated] ✨

[loggiepj]

illicit affairs

part 2 | part 3

YOU'D be a fool trying to convince yourself that Wanda was just some old hag sleeping on your bed that night. But god, she had never looked so peaceful and gorgeous than that very moment, as she was ten years ago. You didn't even know it was possible for someone to look so beautiful, it looked like a crime. As if the gods above blessed only those who were cruel. And cursed those who worshipped them.

Her creamy white legs were exposed from the blanket wrapped around her body. Her tiny soft snores filled the room as she buried herself deep into the pillows. It would take days before her scent would be gone from your sanctuary.

It tore you apart to look at her and feel these forbidden emotions, mad at yourself for feeling this way towards the old woman. You should hate her. You should have kicked her out for what she did.

You decided to go to the kitchen and make something for breakfast instead, preoccupying yourself from worrying too much, that the one nightmare you had always have had come true.

Even your hands were shaking as you beat down the eggs into a bowl, it was a miracle you had managed to cook food. The bacon almost ended up burnt when you jumped from her sudden presence in the kitchen.

"You're awake," you said, ignoring Wanda's gaze on you, her eyes glistening with a recognizable look. You knew that look. She used to look at you that way when you were wearing nothing but her white button down shirt as you made her a quick midnight snack whenever the twins weren't around. But that was ten years ago.

You don't feel anything for the woman anymore, right?

"I made us breakfast," you said before she opened her mouth to speak, stopping her. "You should eat first before you leave."

Wanda took small steps towards the dining table, looking at the food you made her. You wondered if she was touched, remembering how Wanda preferred scrambled eggs more than sunny side ups. But you convinced yourself you didn't do it for her. Because that would make you a martyr.

"This is good," Wanda softly said as you two began to eat in silence. You forced a small smile her way and went back eating.

"I haven't had breakfast like this for ages," she admitted, chuckling. "The boys mostly want cereals for breakfast, I ended up liking them, especially those colorful sweet ones, the . . . I forgot what they were called."

"Froot Loops?"

The skin around her eyes crinkled when she smiled. "Yes, Froot Loops. I swear I'd end up having diabetes one day."

You nodded, chugging down what remained of your coffee as you avoided the woman's gaze.

"What are your plans today? It's a Saturday," the brunette added. "The twins are planning to shop around Chinatown before the classes start. You might even have ideas where to-"

"I can't," you answered, "sorry, I am meeting someone today."

"Oh," she went on, a teasing smirk on her face, "a girlfriend?"

Your fork made a noise as you let it fall down your plate. "What do you want, Miss Maximoff?"

Wanda's smile immediately vanished as she stopped eating. "I . . . I'm sorry if I said something wrong. I didn't mean to pry if you have someone special-"

"No, I mean, what do you want? Why are you here? What were you thinking looking for me, for you to end up inside a sketchy bar?"

Wanda bit back a sob as she looked at you, her hand slipping to hold yours across the table. You tensed and abruptly took it away, ended up with her curling hers into a fist.

"I am so sorry, Y/n," she began, "I'm so sorry for what I did all those years ago, for what I said to you, for being so cruel. I . . . I have to live everyday regretting everything I have said to you. You didn't deserve those things. You were nothing but good to me, and I took you for granted. I . . . I just . . . miss you. I miss you, Y/n. There isn't a day in my life since you left that I haven't thought of you."

You scoffed, standing up as you began cleaning the dishes.

You heard the scraping of her chair against the floor as she stood. "I looked for you. After your graduation, I looked for you. I wanted to take back everything I said. I didn't mean those things. If I could only turn back time, I'd go back to that very day and I should've kissed you and chose you-"

"But you can't," you butted in as you turned to glance at the hysteric woman before you, "turn back the time, I mean."

Wanda was panting softly as her teary eyes stared right at you. She shook her head as she said, "No, I can't."

"That's unfortunate, then," you said back coldly.

Wanda swallowed, still frozen on her spot, and before she'd burst into more tears in your apartment, you went towards the doorway, grabbed your coat and keys. "I'm just gonna grab some coffee. Your clothes are freshly laundered in the bathroom if you want to freshen up before leaving. Please don't forget to lock the door when you leave."

"Y/n—" But you haven't heard the end of it as you closed the door.

Luckily, Wanda wasn't there when you went back home two hours after. But once you had ensured the whole apartment was empty, you broke down and cried.

TIME and absence would surely heal a wound. A couple of months had passed since that dreary encounter and you swore there were a few days when you had completely forgotten about Wanda. That was until you received a call late Friday night when you had only just arrived in your apartment.

It was a nurse from a nearby private hospital, saying that Tommy got into an accident. Before you argued why you were in his contacts in the first place, you drove to the hospital to visit.

Apparently, Tommy got into a fight in one of the fraternity parties he and his friends attended. With broken nose, cut lip and fractured arm, Tommy almost looked unrecognizable.

"Sorry, Y/n," Tommy said when he saw you enter the emergency room, "I didn't know who else to call. And I don't want to worry Mom-"

"It's okay, Tommy. Are you okay? What happened?"

And as you listened to Tommy and the nurse who attended to him, your breathing quickened, your hand hovering over the phone in your jean's pocket. Hesitant to call his mother, even if you knew you had to. Seeing the brunette was the last thing you wanted to do. But this was her son. Your feelings should come last.

Instead of calling the woman, you ended up sending her a short text message, to which she replied instantly, saying that she was already on her way.

You were getting a cup of coffee from a vending machine outside the hospital when Wanda arrived, hearing her voice inside the emergency room.

You decided to sit on the bench by the waiting area, thinking whether you should leave them or stay. You must have fallen asleep on your seat for a few minutes when you felt someone sit beside you.

"Thank you for being there for him," Wanda said.

"How's Tommy?"

"He's under some meds right now for the pain, but the doctor says he's going to be fine."

"That's good," you said.

"There's no available private room at the moment, so he has no choice but to stay in a ward with other patients," she went on, massaging her head. "Doctor said he'll likely be discharged tomorrow or the day after that."

"If you want, you can sleep in my apartment, take a bath or such, while waiting for him to get discharged," you offered. And you had no idea where such sympathy came from.

There was even a short moment where her eyes were at your mouth before she looked back at you.

"I don't want to impose—"

"Wanda, it's fine," you insisted. "For Tommy."

She nodded. "Thank you."

YOU VISITED Tommy in the ward first before leaving, while waiting for Wanda to finish filling up the papers in the hospital's admission room.

"You going to be fine alone?"

"I can manage," he replied, chuckling, showing off his cast.

"Will your father visit?"

The smile on his face disappeared, his fingers playing on the tape around his wrist. "Dad does not visit us often anymore. And I hardly believe he cared for us anyway, now that he has another family of his own."

That was news to you.

"I always tell Mom to find someone so she wouldn't end up alone," he went on, his eyes at the window where you two could see Wanda busy writing. "But she never remarried after Dad, maybe it was because she never trusts men like Dad anymore. But it's been years, you know. I know she's too scared to admit it, but I know she's lonely at home now that me and Billy are in college."

Your eyes were on Wanda as she talked to the Doctor. "I'm sure she'll find someone in the right time."

He laughed softly, making you look at him. "Come to think of it, they got divorced years ago, months after we didn't see you at the house anymore. There was one time Billy thought you were the other woman Dad has been cheating with. But I know you're not that bad of a person."

You stiffened. "You mean, they'd been divorced that long?"

Tommy hummed. "Yes, ten years ago, I guess. We eventually found out who the other woman was. Good thing we didn't curse you by mistake."

You forced to laugh at his joke, but your mind was running in deep circles wondering if the divorce really had something to do with you.

"COME on, don't be shy," your friend Steve invited Wanda, who looked as shocked as you were. "Any friend of Y/n is a friend of ours."

Somehow, when Wanda was returning the clothes you lent to her that time Tommy was hospitalized, there you were in your apartment with your friends, who held a surprised farewell party for Bucky, who was leaving for London the next day. As if Wanda knew perfect timing.

Kate hadn't left your side, even sitting between you just to eradicate any weirdness. The group's conversation went from talking about everyone's jobs, making Wanda let out her plans she was starting a flower shop business in New York and that she had just bought a spot particularly two blocks from the university. You tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, and convinced yourself she was only doing that to be closer to her boys. But you knew better.

Even Kate faked a laugh as she held another toast for the woman. "What about a special someone, Miss Maximoff? I heard you were divorced. Anyone you're meeting at the moment?"

Wanda's eyes met yours for a second before you looked away and drank whatever was left from your bottle of beer.

"No," she answered, chuckling. "I think I'm too old for that stuff anyway."

Bucky chortled. "No way you're old, Miss. If you want, I can set you up with people I know from work. I might even be successful on setting you up than Y/n here, whom I've failed a number of times."

"Why?" Wanda asked curiously.

Kate tried to stop Bucky. "Bucky, just give it a rest—"

"Oh, Y/n here has unknown high standards," Bucky enthusiastically added. "Believe me when dozens had gone down on their knees and Y/n has respectfully refused any advances."

"Shut up," you said, laughing, although you could tell Wanda's eyes never left yours all night long.

WHEN the party ended, all of the attendees slowly started to leave the apartment until there was only you and Wanda. Wanda helped you clean up the place, starting with throwing the empty boxes of pizza and bottles of beers into the trash bag.

"Y/n." Wanda broke the silence. Chappell Roan's casual was playing through the speakers.

"Mm?"

"Is it true?"

You stopped putting the dishes into the dishwasher to look at her. "Is what true?"

There was a small pause before she went on. "Have I ruined you for anyone else?"

You straighten your posture, frustrated as you glared back at her. "How dare you?"

"Then tell me," she challenged, approaching you with a sly smile on her face. "It's an easy question answerable by yes or no. Tell me."

"You infuriate me!"

"That's not a no—"

"You're nothing but a pathetic old slut who craves attention from someone who doesn't want her anymore!"

"Admit it then!" She leaned forward, closer to your face, her nostrils flaring. "Say it to my face that you don't feel anything for me anymore and I'll leave you alone for good! Tell me—"

You pushed your mouth against hers, effectively stopping Wanda from talking. She gasped upon the impact, with her back hitting the wall behind her from the force. And she welcomed you with as much aggression, her hands cupping your face to hold you.

With your arms on each side of her head, you pressed your bodies together, molding against each other. Her tongue played with yours, tasting what had been missed, wondering if each one of you were still as desperate as you were ten years ago.

"Y/N!" she moaned loudly a couple of minutes later as you pulled her hair, while roughly pistoning your strap into her from behind.

You had never thought you'd be able to do it. But there you were in your own bedroom with the woman you both loathed and loved so much on all fours before you. And it was driving you insane.

Mind filled with rage and lust, you tried to forget that this woman before you was the cause of your downfall. You tried to forget she hurt you, broke your heart to pieces as if you were nothing. Basking in the moment, you harshly grabbed the skin of her hips, nails digging, as you repeatedly and relentlessly pushed into her warm dripping entrance.

The tip of your strap hit your clit at the right angle, making you roll your eyes to the back of your head. And when you heard Wanda's whimpers before you, your hand slipped through her back then held her shoulder as you fastened the pace.

The brunette screamed as her body convulsed in waves, shuddering as she came. If it weren't for you holding her upright, she would've fallen straight face down on the sheets.

But her cumming didn't stop you from chasing your relief. The sweet nectar from her release dripping down both your thighs only made the action slippery and noisy.

"Y/n. . . ," Wanda moaned, her hand attempting to hold you back but you slapped her hand away before leaning forward as you held both of her hands behind her back. This rendered Wanda's face flat against the pillow before her, muffling her moans.

"Is this what you want, huh?" you demanded, eyes almost in tears seeing Wanda and pretending you weren't just loving every moment that was happening right now. "Is this what you want from me?"

"Yes!" she screamed, gasping when you spanked one of her butt cheeks. "Yes! Y/n! You're all I want! You're all I've ever wanted!"

And that snapped something inside you. The coil in your stomach exploded, making you press your front into her back as you lay on top of her.

"Wanda," you moaned into her neck, your hips stuttering as you came. She held your face behind her as your body shook.

"I got you, Y/n," she cooed softly as you panted, still trembling above her. "I got you."

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I truly appreciate your continued support in reading my stories. You can help me create more stories by supporting my writing thru this link. Thank you so much ❤🥰

[much-ado-about-exy]

Timothy Drake-Wayne, or “Business Tim” as Bart has dubbed him, is a force to be reckoned with. It’s not an iteration of Tim that any of their vigilante social circle is privy to terribly often, and part of that is intentional - he’s downright unnerving, not because he’s ruthlessly efficient (Tim always is), or because he’s basically a genius (ditto), but because he’s so- normal. So polished.

(Red) Robin’s merciless professionalism in the costume has always come with a hearty side helping of downright strangeness that had made his otherwise terrifying competency a little bit easier to tolerate. While it hadn’t watered him down any, it had at least added a layer of humanity to the whole child prodigy schtick - like, Kon and the rest of them could content themselves with the knowledge that, sure, Rob was already solving crime at the level of the literal Batman, but he also ate his Froot Loops with fucking orange juice, and had once watched an eight hour video essay on a German vampire show he’d never even seen before in one sitting and come out the other side temporarily unable to form complete sentences in English. It was all about balance.

Business Tim, on the other hand, is smart, hardworking, punctual, and impressively, horrifically bland. Business Tim greets coworkers with the sort of vacuously polite smile that belongs in a toothpaste commercial; Business Tim’s hobbies are reading books on empathic leadership and watching Jeopardy; Business Tim claims to have left his skateboarding days behind him, and instead drives an Audi A4 in Cobra Beige to work every day, and never, ever speeds. It’s like he’s managed to couple the unassuming harmlessness of Brucie Wayne with Tim’s own brand of “absolutely needing to be the best at everything he does, ever” and create the perfect storm of corporate soullessness.

[christinesficrecs]

Hi Christine, I know this is a long shot but long story short - lost my saves file a while ago and cannot find many of most favourite fics, I have countless quotes saved from them. I am sharing some with you in hopes people recognise the fics they're from if you post this. I will love you forever.

Derek’s first kiss in four years tastes like fresh-squeezed orange juice and makes his stomach flip like the drop in a rollercoaster. Stiles holds him close like he’s thanking him.

About the summer he spent in Ireland because there were pictures of his mom posed in various tourist sites at Dublin and Dingle and the Giant’s Causeway--places that he wanted to experience personally since he never got to ask her first-hand.

Derek looked at him for a moment, and wow, okay, this was why people wrote songs about love and painted pictures and wrote poetry, because he was pretty sure that he was falling in love with Derek Hale if only because of the guy's beautiful eyes and earnest expressions and his everything. God.

In some ways Stiles has done a lot of growing up since then, but a part of him thinks he’ll always be that scrawny, ridiculous kid at heart, whose greatest joys in life were Froot Loops, cheesy disco tunes, and masturbation.

Stiles gets back from his year abroad in Hungary with more muscles and the first of his tattoos, a knotted rope that runs the length of his spine.

Hey, Derek, can you do me a solid? Nothing serious, just, you know, screw my brains out, that’s all.

He meets Stiles’ gaze from where he's leaning against the back wall, his eyes catching glints of light amid the shadows. Certain people are just meant to live under the open sky.

Whatever he says afterwards, whatever happens between them, there will always be this, the long late afternoon with the sun skidding red in the west, and he will always know what Stiles looked like the first time someone filled him up to the hilt. There are no acrobatics. Nothing fancy happens. Derek feels like the ocean breaking helplessly on the shore, the tide rising, spilling him over.

there’s something about the shape of him, the way he’s huge and solid and beautiful and always thirty seconds away from admitting total defeat that rubs Stiles raw and tender.

“People are so exhausting,” he murmurs, and Stiles is glad to know it: that he isn’t people, that he counts as a kind of between places, maybe even as home.

Updating with the ones that magv1 found. Thank you!!!

Hot Single Dad Derek Hale by WhoNatural | 13.3K | Explicit

Wherein Derek is a Hot Single Dad, possibly with a little case of martyrdom, and Stiles is the newest client at his publishing house who really just wants to make him happy. Preferably while they're both naked.

^^^^^ #1 & 2

But Then What... by Stoney | 24.3K | Explicit

Senior year is almost over, and all Stiles needs to do is keep his head down to survive. A teacher calls in a favor, leaving him stuck tutoring Derek Hale, one of the most popular jocks in school and a member of a group of douchecanoes who have bullied Stiles for years. He's someone Stiles totally hates. Totally. Like, doesn't like him even a little bit. DEFINITELY isn't attracted to him.

Except that is a total lie. Fuck his life, seriously.

^^^^^ #3

My Life is not a Horror Movie, Derek by DiscontentedWinter | 38.9K | Explicit

Stiles keeps dreaming of people in robes with knives. With chanting. In Latin. And he mentioned the knives, right? That can't be good.

^^^^^ #4

i need your sway by thatworldinverted | 11.1K | Explicit

Stiles always figured it would be Scott who saw him through his first heat. They pinky-swore on it, in fact, when they were eleven and newly-presented. There haven’t exactly been an abundance of offers between then and now.

What there is now, though, is the pack, and pack takes care of each other.

^^^^^ #6

Sucker Love by whiskey_in_tea | 17.9K | Explicit

Kate sits up and narrows her eyes at him. “Page 72,” she says. “Why I Plan to Wait, by Stiles Stilinski.”

The spread is hilariously cliched: a full page picture of a pale, pretty boy with a wide-eyed blonde girl walking on the beach, the two of them holding hands and staring into the waves, probably thinking wistfully of the sex they aren’t having. Derek skims the text briefly. “Speaking up about the importance of virginity!” he exclaims. “Reclaiming chastity a a masculine virtue. Our friend Stiles sure is brave.”

“See, I was thinking he might make an interesting challenge,” Kate says lazily. “And he’s surprisingly attractive, don’t you think? Such long fingers. And that mouth.”

^^^^^ #8

[ameagrice]

Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-four | logical

They moved back to New York shortly before the summer breakup. In a letter redirected to Percy’s apartment for you, your stepmom wrote that things were getting better. Your dad sold up abroad and moved back to be closer to you, apparently, so you could visit more often. The thought of it made you uncomfortable. Moving back to be near you wasn’t the worst thing, though—Rachel having another baby, was.

“The poor kid,” you stared, horrified at the letter.

Through a mouthful of Froot Loops, Percy raised his brows. “Huh?”

“I’m getting another sister,” you tilted your head, a flurry of emotions whirling. You’d love her like you loved Finn, but the thought of her going through the motions the way you did was not particularly pleasant. Would she be stuck inside, too? Would she be barred from leaving? Would she be judged on what she wore, or said or laughed at? Would she be in danger, too? Girls are always judged terribly. You wouldn’t worry like this over Finn.

“You don’t look…happy about that,” he chewed.

You hum softly. “I am happy. Just…I don’t know.”

Percy knew quite a bit about your unpleasant home life. He knew you had ran away last year to escape it, and he knew about the wilderness camp fiasco that felt so long ago. He knew you’d attended Yancy simply because your family didn’t know what to do with you, and it hurt. They were most certainly not equipped with the knowledge or the readiness to be parents to one, let alone three.

“They didn’t know what to do with just me,” you scoff, throwing down the letter in a stray spill of milk. “Why are they…?” Of course that always was the question—why? Why to everything they said and did. It made your brain hurt.

Cooking over by the stove, Paul Blofis flipped pancakes. You shared a table of them, Froot Loops and toppings, a feast fit for a king—and enough of it, too. Paul even let you and Percy flip your pancakes. You’d never been allowed to, before. Not because you were incapable—there was no reason at all. Your father just didn’t want you to, so you never did. But Paul? Patience. Of. A. Saint. Between the giant mess that was mixing the pancake mix with Percy, and actually scooping the mix from the bowl to the pan, burning your pancakes and flipping fresh ones, he was only smiles and encouraging (often strained) words. Percy found it all hilarious, of course, throwing the mix around and getting it on the ceiling. And once Percy did it you had to do it too, because what was being silly if not with your best friend? Sally had rushed to the store on the corner for more supplies and would be back soon with the promise of breakfast and then a visit to Central Park Zoo.

When another letter was redirected to Percy’s apartment, you discovered that your family had at last moved back. With the address scratched with a near-empty pen on a piece of scrap paper, Sally took you over while the boys sorted dinner. You didn’t want to go in, you explained. Only to check the place out. The address took you to a five-storey in a nice neighbourhood in the Upper East Side.

“You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” said Sally.

You stared, and tried to imagine your family inside. “It’s kind of a wasted trip, then.”

With the car parked up to the curb, you watched the street for a few seconds, Sally allowing you to collect your thoughts. “They’re having another kid,” you blurt. “They sent me away, but they’re having another kid. Is there something wrong with me?”

Sally reached out to you and took your hand in a surprising gesture. She did it to Percy all the time, laying her hand on his shoulder, or grabbing his hand when he struggled with something. You turn your head, to find her already looking at you. Your throat burned.

“No,” she shook her head. Percy had her nose, and her honesty. “Don’t ever think that. You’re one of the smartest, kindest kids I’ve ever met, and if they don’t see that, that is not your fault. Okay?”

Of course it wasn’t okay. You were more of a maid than a daughter, just something pretty to brag about in conversation and meetings. So how could you be okay with their new children potentially being brought up the same way, with a man who believed women were made for everything housework and then some, and that children were seen and not heard, made to abide by every rule the ‘man of the house’ sets?

“Can we go back to your house?” You asked.

She didn’t hesitate in turning around. Perhaps one day, you would tell her all about your thoughts in this moment, and of how despite them, you’d go right back again and again to be upset and humiliated. Human nature, and the want to feel loved. That’s all it ever was. And as a fifteen-year-old, setting boundaries didn’t come as second-nature.

The evening was spent playing Mario Kart, throwing Paul off-course with turtle shells and bananas. Percy beat you Every. Damn. Time. (but he let you win once, and that was enough). The evening ended on cheesy pizza and ice-cream, the radio blasting some recently released song, and Percy cracking jokes from the other room in the dark.

So…the tunnel was a dead end. Of course. You couldn’t have anything lucky. Gasping for breath after sprinting the whole way down, you leaned against the wall trying to catch some oxygen.

Percy keeled over with his hands on his knees. “Holy sh—”

“We’re dead!” Cried Grover. His hands flew to his hair hysterically. “We’re—oh, there’s another tunnel!”

Which, essentially, happened to be half your height and forced you to face the realistic possibility that you might have a fear of enclosed spaces. Crawling through on your stomach, monsters echoing, coming closer down the tunnel was not on the agenda. Something one-hundred-percent not human was too close for comfort, and just when you thought you were dead, the tunnel beneath you gave way, and you slid down a bright-red, plastic slide with a sudden scream, swirling around and around until you came to a stop, slamming into metal bars in a dark room. Percy came to a stop, slamming you once more against the wall with a yelp, and then Grover, screaming his way down the slide, and also colliding with the two of you.

“At least we’ve lost it,” huffed Percy, getting to his feet. He offered a hand down to you, and you took it. “There’s no way it can fit through…well, it’s closed up anyway. Fantastic.”

You offered a hand to Grover, pulling him up to his feet. He shakily exhaled. “But we’ve trapped ourselves, now. Look.”

You turned. The room was huge, a giant square space in which you were trapped, encased by metal bars from floor to ceiling. You approached the silver wall and tested the bars. They were cold to the touch, but moveable. Like jello, when you pressed your hand to it they wobbled but didn’t move apart. Taking the end of your dagger, you poked a bar tentatively. You created a dent in the middle of it that quickly closed up again.

“What the hell?…”

Through the bars were rows of what could only be described as cells, each with metal bars of different thickness and material. At least three stories of cells, except the two above yours were ordinary-looking and simple enough, joined by metal catwalks.

You hadn’t noticed Percy come to your side until he spoke. “It’s a prison,” he pushed on the bars. Though they wobbled, they bent ever so slightly. “Maybe we could…” he reached out for your dagger and tried sawing at them, creating little gashes that left dust floating to the ground. With enough friction, the bars would most definitely cut apart.

Grover approach the bars and tested them. “Someone take that side. If we pull on either side, someone can slip between the bars and get out.”

It might have been the most productive idea anyone’s had in a while. You take a hold of a bar just as Grover said and pull so hard that your arms are shaking. Percy shrugs off his backpack and throws it through the wider gap you’ve created before sliding through, breathing in dramatically with wide eyes. On the other side, he jumped around cheering. You might have smiled and joined him, if the chanting hadn’t started. A deep, low sobbing jolted Percy to shut up quickly, dropping his arms. High above in the building, a raspy voice came, words you didn’t understand.

“What’s that supposed to be?” You whispered to Grover anxiously.

He’d turned shaky, and nodded for Percy to take your bar. “Let’s keep moving. Like, now, Percy. I don’t like the sound of that.”

“But what is it?” The boy asked, pulling for you to slip between the bendy bars.

Grover didn’t reply. You held the bar for him and when he was through you carried on through the building. The ancient-sounding language had stopped, but the crying continued. The lights flickered, and you could hear the electricity running through them, clicking.

“I think it’s a prison,” you said, eyeing the cells. “A huge one. Ha! Imagine we’re in Alcatraz.”

“Be just our luck,” rolled Percy’s eyes.

It didn’t seem possible in the slightest that you could have exited the maze on the other side of the country far from camp, but realistically anything was possible these days. You’d nearly reached halfway through the room when Grover threw out his arm and hissed. “Stop!” You paused. “Can you see that?” He nodded above, eyes trained high.

You look where he did, and focussed on the shape of the second-floor balcony. Standing, if that was the right word, was a monster you’d only seen in books and history class at camp. At least twenty-feet long with the lower-half the body of a dragon and from the waist upward a woman, with constantly changing shapes and animals at her waist. Her hair reminded you of Medusa’s so long ago, snakes snapping and hissing.

“Get down,” Grover prompted, pulling on your arm. You hadn’t even noticed the boys had crouched in the shadows. The monster paid you no attention, and though the language was foreign to you, it was easy to understand that it spoke directly to whoever was in the cell. Everyone held their breath when the footsteps sounded on the stairs, descending. She spread wings you’d failed to see, and in a gust of hot, sulphuric-smelling air, disappeared.

Grover exhaled beside you. A glance at him provided you the sight of him sweating lightly, weary. “H-horrible. I haven’t smelt a monster that strong since forever.”

“Definitely an old one,” you agreed, leaning forward ever so slightly to peer up the floors, hands pressed to the cold ground for balance.

“What was that?” Asked Percy, shoes scuffing as he shifted.

“Kampê,” shook Grover. “When the Titans ruled the world, they imprisoned Gaea and Ouranos’s earlier children. Cyclopes, and Hekatonkheires.”

Percy spluttered. “The Heka-what?”

“The Hundred-Handed Ones,” you shivered. You felt a little ashamed of the disgust you acknowledge at parts of your own world, the unpretty parts. If the gods could hand down traits to their children, you were sure that liking and paying attention to only the nice things was one you had unfortunately inherited. Vanity, and ignorance. “They called them that because they had, like, a hundred hands. They’re the elder brothers of the Cyclopes. Grim, right?”

“Kampê worked for Kronos,” Grover continued. “She kept the Hundred-Handed Ones in Tartarus, tortured them and kept them imprisoned for years. Until Zeus came, I mean. He killed Kampê and freed them all. In return, they fought in the war, against Kronos.”

“And now she’s back.”

Grover nodded. “And now she’s back. So who’s in that cell?”

“Maybe it’s someone she’s captured before? I mean, why else would she be back and making someone cry?”

There was only one solution: checking it out.

With your dagger drawn, Grover on high alert and ready to indicate monsters, and Percy with his sword, together you crept up the metal steps, backs to the wall, scaling. As you grew nearer to the cell, the crying grew louder. You couldn’t help holding back when you saw the creature inside, because you weren’t completely sure on how you would react. It sat against a wall, the colour of milk and pale as anything, with long limbs. His chest sprouted more arms than you could count. His face was long and sad, and the eyes were dark brown with no whites to be seen. All in all, you felt a little sick. No wonder Aphrodite paid special attention to you; you only liked the pretty things in life. Despite the aversion to him, you couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. Somebody so sad didn’t deserve your hate.

“Either the sky isn’t so tall anymore,” uttered Percy, “or he’s short for a Hundred-Handed One.” Said creature looked up when he spoke. You jumped violently.

Grover’s voice shook when he approached the bars. “Hundred-Handed One, please help us.”

The creature wiped his face with numerous hands, and you had to turn around for a second and collect yourself. “Run while you can, Satyr, for I cannot even help myself.”

“But, sure you can! You’re a Hundred-Handed One. You can do anything!”

The false positivity did na-da. The creature’s hands twisted bits of metal and wood, building a toy boat, and pretend characters with swords and bows and arrows. As quickly as they appeared, they dismantled.

“I cannot!” He denied, weeping sadly. “Kampê has returned. The Titans will rise and throw us into Tartarus once more.” You couldn’t argue there. The way things were going, chances weren’t looking good.

“Come on! Put on a brave face and let’s do this!” Oh, Grover, ever the positive. You couldn’t say the same for Percy and yourself—you looked at him, to find him jabbing his thumb down the stairs.

The creature’s face morphed. He now had a pointed noise, arched brows and a strange smile, but it quickly faltered and melted away, returning to the sad one. “No good,” he sighed depressingly. “My scared face keeps coming back.”

“How did you do that?” Percy gasped.

You coughed. “The Hundred-Handed Ones have fifty different faces, Percy!” You smiled to say please shut up.

He shrugged. “Must make it hard to get a yearbook picture.” You struggled to not laugh.

“Guys,” Grover interrupted. “We have to get out of here. Kampê will be back and sooner or later she’s going to sense us in here.”

“Break the bars,” you nod to the creature. His hands start playing rock-paper-scissors, making no move to escape.

“Listen, what’s your name?” Said Grover.

The creature mumbled sadly, deflating visibly against the wall, slumping. “I am Briares.”

Percy leaned down to whisper in your ear. “Why is he not breaking out?”

You turn your head ever so slightly. “He’s just scared, I think. Imagine being imprisoned and tortured not once but twice?”

“I cannot,” Briares moaned. “Kampê will only punish me.”

“It’s alright!” Said Grover. “You’ve fought the Titans before, you can do it again!”

“I remember the war,” Briares’s face morphed into one of reminiscing. “Lightening shook the world. We tried hard. The Titans and the monsters almost won, and now they are close to doing so again. Kampê said so herself.”

You wave your dagger around flimsily as you talk. “What, and you just believe everything Kampê says, now? Come on, man! Get up. You can’t change anything if you don’t try.”

“That’s the spirit!” Cheered Percy. “Come on, Briares! You’ve got this!”

He didn’t move an inch.

“How about a game of rock-paper-scissors?” Voiced Percy lightly. You gave him an ‘are you crazy?’ look.

Briares’s face turned hopeful. “I always win rock-paper-scissors.”

Percy clapped his hands. The sound reverberated. “If I win, you come with us. If you win, you stay and rot in this cell. How about that?”

He agreed. There came a series of hands on palms, three times, and thanks to Briares’s hundred hands, it was like thunder rumbling. On three, he came up with an assortment of rocks, papers and scissors, enough for a school set. He shook his head sadly again. “I told you, I always—what is that?”

“A gun. Gun always wins.”

“That’s not fair!” Briares protested.

“I never said anything about fair,” smirked Percy. Kampê won’t be fair if we hang around. Now, get up, and let’s get out of here!”

Briares sniffled, but climbed to his feet. In one swift move, he reached out with his hands and ripped the bars right out. “Demigods are cheaters.”

You felt relief at finally moving again. That is, until you took the steps frantically, only to walk straight into Kampê, waiting at the bottom. She snarled at you, waiting. You backed up right into Grover, knocking him over.

“The other way,” said Percy.

Briares was more than happy to do this. In fact, he ran ahead, arms waving frantically at the sight of Kampê. You took the lead next, lungs burning, Grover and Percy right behind. The sound of giant wings took to the air above, and though she spoke in her ancient language, you didn’t have to understand it to understand her intentions. Through a corridor, down the stairs and out into another prison block, facing doorway after doorway. You faltered, skidding to a stop.

“Agh—that way!” You dove left, the boys close behind. Now in the prison yard, surrounded by security towers and old barbed wire, the bright sunshine blinded you. People milled idly, taking pictures of the building you emerged from. You turned, and lo and behold—“Alcatraz?!” You fumed. Over the edge, San Francisco stood proudly, in the North, dark clouds gathered over Mount Tamalpais, where Atlas held up the sky. You had a sudden, scary thought that that must be where the Titans were preparing. After all, nobody else would dare approach the area.

“Keep moving! She is behind us!”

To the far end of the yard, right up as the far wall exploded, raining dust and hard debris. Coughing as it pelted you, holding a hand out to the closest wall, you tried to wipe it from your face. People screamed all around.

Percy looked to you. Even covered in dry dust, his eyes were furiously bright, just like the green of the ocean on a clear day. “It’s your call,” he said.

“Run.” That was the end of the debate. Out the gates, emergency sirens blared. It was like something from a movie. A group of tourists stood by the Wharf, where a boat sat. Grover said you should take it.

“Too slow,” said Percy.

“We should go back into the maze.”

Across the yard, where you tripped on stray bricks, the wall to the cell block stood ripped open. Through the messed-up conundrum, you located the entrance to the maze. Briares ripped off the bars of your previous cell, but upon searching the wall for the mark of Daedalus, it came up smooth.

Grover reached high on the wall, for a tiny dent. Upon touching it, the indent changed shape and glowed. The wall opened up. Down the cell block, Kampê roared. She charged, but came up slow. As you were the last to dive into the maze, you watched as the wall closed up, and not a second too soon. Hot air cut off as the wall shut. You dug around your pockets for a flashlight, flicking it on.

The group moved through the maze, through a room purely made of waterfalls all leading into one large, slippery pit. The steps around it were covered in moss and dew; one wrong move and you’d fall and drown. When you shone the flashlight down the black pit, all you could see was murky, dark water, and not the bottom of the pit. Percy looked unsettled.

Briares slumped against a mossy wall along the steps. “This pit goes straight down into Tartarus,” he declared. “I should jump in now, and saw you demigods a lot of trouble.”

“Don’t think like that,” you sighed softly. “It’s not right. You could help with what’s coming.”

“I have nothing to offer,” he shook his head. “I have lost everything.”

“What about your brothers?” Asked Grover, offering logic. “Surely they’re still here. You could find them again.”

Briares offered only sadness and the sense of giving up. “They have faded. They are gone.”

Percy, a little irritated, clasped his hands. “What exactly do you mean they’re gone? Surely monsters are immortal like the gods.”

Grover said weakly, “Percy, even immortality has limits. Sometimes monsters are forgotten, and they lose their will to stay immortal. They grow tired.”

You only thought of Medusa, and her sisters having left her. As awful as she was, nothing could be worse than being alone and forgotten in the world. How cold it must be.

“I must go,” Briares stood.

“Kronos is going to take over the world!” Grover protested. He went to move, but looked at the waterfalls, and thought better of it. “Help us!”

“I cannot,” he hung his head. It was like watching a dying animal with nothing to help it. “I cannot, demigods. I do not have a finger gun to win this type of game.”

“Maybe that’s why you monsters fade,” Percy glared. “Because you give up on yourself. Not because mortals forget you.” Ouch.

Shame wrote all over his face. Without a word, Briares turned up the steps, where different paths had appeared. He took one at random and disappeared down the dark corridor.

You sighed, shrugging your backpack higher on your shoulders. “Come on, guys. I hate it in here. Let’s go find someplace to sit; I’m starving.”

In a marble corridor, with bronze torch holders lit and hanging from the walls, you settled against the wall. It reminded you very much of an old Greek tomb, and felt somewhat comfortable for the soul, like reattaching with a piece of yourself after so long. Chewing on a cereal bar, you said, “We’re probably close now. Hopefully. We’ll get going again in the morning.” If it was even night time, now.

“How do we know when it’s morning?”

You smiled. “When we wake up, Grover.”

He pulled a heap of straw from his bag and ate some, making the rest into a pillow. He was out like a light before you could say ‘goodnight’. Percy took a place a little away from you, further down the corridor from where you sat keeping watch. You dug out a thin book from your bag and read in the glow light from the walls, keeping your ears open and looking up every few seconds.

There’s a shuffle of Percy getting up and sliding down the wall beside you. You lay your book down on your knees.

“You should really get some sleep,” you tell him. “You’ll be exhausted, otherwise.”

“I can’t sleep. Are you doing okay?”

You eye the wall opposite. “Hm. I mean, besides being down here for a ton of time and not making any contributive progression to the quest? Sure.”

“Hey,” he reasoned softly. “You’re doing great. We’ll get to the workshop, I know we will.”

You sigh deeply, crossing your ankles out in front. “I know. I just wish it all made some sense, really. I mean, I thought that we could have a system and stick to it and get to the workshop and back as quick as possible. But everything keeps changing and none of my ideas are working out so…I mean, how have we travelled from state to state in a day or two? It doesn’t make sense. I thought I could do this. But really, Percy, I haven’t got a clue what I’m doing. I took a huge bite out of something that wasn’t meant for me, I think. I was kidding myself.”

“Look, if that was the case, the Oracle never would’ve given you the prophecy. She gave it to you because this was meant for you. Don’t doubt yourself, B, you’re doing great. And, besides, when do we ever really know what we’re doing? Like when we got led astray by the wood nymphs in Central Park—”

You bark an echoey laugh. “That was your fault!”

“And the time you got us thrown off that ride at Waterland?”

“Again, your fault!”

“See!” He laughed, knocking an outstretched leg into yours. “We’ll be okay. I promise.”

You smile, but Hera’s words suddenly do a loop in your head. “Percy…”

“Yes, B?” He tilts his head, thinking you’re going to say something funny. His face falters at your serious look.

“When Hera said you know how to get through this maze, was she telling the truth?” He opens his mouth. “Because if you know the way and you’re not telling me—”

“I don’t know what she was talking about,” he denies. “Honestly.”

You lift your brows at the front, knitting together. “You’d tell me if you did, wouldn’t you, though?”

“Of course I would. Just, maybe if…”

“Maybe what?”

“If you told me what the last line of the prophecy was, it might help.”

Being so busy in the maze had you forgetting that you’d kept that part of your prophecy a secret, not only to keep your panic at a low level, but everyone else’s, too. But maybe he’s right; you’d be admitting to something big, for you, but at the end of the day, if anything were to happen which you could prevent…

“…’Lose a love to worse than death’. That was the last line. Super cheery, huh?” You pick at a thread on your pants so you don’t have to look at him.

He sits silent for a minute. “‘Lose a love’ could be anyone, though, right? I mean…”

Your heart hammers away. You can’t look up but you know just the look he’ll have on his face. You both know which type of love the prophecy talks about. If he’s worried about Travis being the one, Travis isn’t here. And it certainly isn’t Grover.

Percy sighs quietly. “Oh…”

You chuckle. “Yeah, oh.”

“Is that why you were upset, in your cabin? That’s why you…asked for me to come, but worried about it…”

“Now do you see?” You shuffle, bringing your knees up to your chest again. You’ve just admitted that you love your best friend, and he’s oddly quiet about it. Maybe you’ve done the wrong thing. Maybe you ought to have kept your mouth closed. “I couldn’t imagine doing this without you, Percy, and clearly you’re a big part of this quest. I just don’t want anything bad to happen.”

“Nothing’s going to happen. To any of us. I promise.”

You smile unsurely. “You’re making a lot of promises, dude. That’s a bad idea.”

Running a hand through his dark, dark hair, Percy denies. “Not if I keep them. You should get some rest, anyway. You’re tired.”

You won’t say no to a bit of sleep, so you ball up a t-shirt from your bag and use it as a pillow, laying down with your back to the wall. Failing to fall asleep quick enough, you open your mouth into the darkness. “I’ve been having these dreams about Nico. I think he’s trying to raise the dead.”

He replies straight away. “Me too. I think he’s been using the tunnels for a lot longer than we have. That’s where he went in winter, when he disappeared. I think, anyway.”

You can’t imagine how scared he must be. You’re fifteen, and with your friends, but the terror down here is unlike anything else. It’s a constant, eery feel up your spine, like somebody really is walking on your grave.

You don’t think on it too heavily. You close your eyes, hand under your cheek, and sleep.

You began to grow agitated the more time went on. A quick breakfast of cereal bars and a small box of apple juice, and the three of you were back once again to rule the roost of the labyrinth. Or, you liked to think so, anyway.

Dead end after dead end, you eventually started to lose it. “Goddamn it! This doesn’t make sense!”

Grover, eating a roll of straw noisily, nodded in agreement. He watched you like he was watching a reality television meltdown episode. “My brain feels like it’s turned into water.”

You point at him with the end of your dagger unintentionally, making him yelp and scatter backward. “That. That is accurate. Now—why is it turning into wood?!” You followed the changing interior with your eyes, from stone into wooden beams and rock. “It should still be stone!”

Nonetheless, your group pressed on until the walls turned into a room full of sharp stalagmites and dark, dirt floor. Nothing stood out—besides the giant, silver foil wrapper just laying around. You leaned down to pick it up with the tips of your fingers, grimacing at the crumbs falling out.

“D’you think Nico was down here?”

Percy hummed. “Summoning the dead, still.”

“Smells like the dead down here,” Grover agreed, sniffing violently. “Definitely dead things.”

“Beautiful.” You crunched the wrapper in your hand. “Do you think we could use it to find Nico?”

“Like Hansel and Gretel?” Percy quipped, with a cheeky smile. Grover belched a laugh promptly. Boys. Irritation became you.

Despite their joking at the serious matter, you were grateful they’d managed to keep their cool, especially since you’d been slowly losing yours the longer you were down in the maze. You walked on ahead, footsteps oddly quiet with the vast nature of the space. Behind you, the boys laughed about some stupid to programme and Burger King, but their odd conversation was the least of your worries. Through the dark tunnel ahead, a single beam of light shone through from above, like the clouds in the sky would part and let light in from a distance. Something twisted in your gut, and the farther you grew from the boys’ jesting, closer to the grid of light, the stronger the feeling became. You’d guided the way on pure feeling, of what felt right and what felt terribly wrong. You couldn’t help feeling, now, that you’d made the right choice coming this way.

Standing under the pitch of light, looking up, your stomach lurched, and a full-body feeling that you’d done the right thing came over you. You could see trees, and bright-blue sky. No clouds, but a whole lot of sunshine. It felt warm. You were looking through a metal grate, and staring a red-color cow in the face.

A red cow?

You pulled a face, and pocketed your dagger in your backpack. Reaching as tall as possible on your tiptoes, you reached up for the grate, touching your fingers to the metal bars and pushing as far as you could. The cow moved along, thank goodness, because you were starting to think that the feeling in your stomach wasn’t that you were going the right way but actually because the sight of a red cow was ringing alarm bells (and mild nausea).

By the time Percy and Grover caught up to you, you’d managed to shift the grate over a little bit.

“What is it?” Percy breathed. “We thought you’d—”

“I think it’s a cattle-guard,” you cut him off. “Give me a boost, Percy. I’ve got a feeling we’re about to find Nico.”

“What’s a cattle-guard?” He asked, kneeling. Percy cupped his hands, and you placed your foot in it. As he boosted you up, you grabbed Grover’s shoulder and pushed, leaning to shove the guard out of the way. Your fingers brushed soft grass, and you almost melted.

“They put them at the gates of ranches,” explained Grover. “So the cows don’t escape. They can’t walk on them.”

“How’d you know that?” Really, Percy?

Grover huffed indignantly. “Trust me—if you had hooves, you’d know about it.”

Once your upper body is out, you shift your lower body out of the grate, elbowing your way out and across the grass. It’s warm and soft, and you could almost believe you were safe. If it weren’t for the bright-red cows, the color of cherries, roaming the place and eyeing you like you were a great source of minerals. For some reason, Hera’s visit plays on your mind. You reach down on your stomach for Percy, next, as he steps into Grover’s clasped hands and reaches for your arms. After he’s up, the two of you reach for Grover, who takes a jump at the opening while you both grasp his arms, yanking him out of the maze.

Grover wrinkled his nose, eyeing your surroundings. It might have been heavenly if not for the animals and the weird smell of manure. “Red cows? They’re sacred to Apollo, aren’t they?”

Percy barked a laugh. “Holy cows?”

Nodding, Grover clicked his fingers. “Exactly. But what are they doing out here?”

“Go ask one—”

Percy slapped a sweaty hand over your mouth. You almost gagged, and pried his hand away. He shook his head, and that’s when you heard it. Rustling, and tiny treads. Turning around, goosebumps rattling your skin, you came face-to-face with…

A dog.

But not any normal dog, because you weren’t that lucky. A two-headed dog.

You rolled your eyes so violently it hurt. Waving a hand to the dodgy dog, you sighed. “Just go back to the maze. Get in the maze. I can’t, really.”

"Hang on!" Percy held out his hand. "Didn't Hera say something about a farm?"

Ah. "I mean...she couldn't have meant one with freaky dogs and cows, could she?" Abnormal is normal in your world. Unfortunately, more likely than not, abnormal means you're on the right track. Its when things die down that you have to worry.

"Nico might be here," Percy reasoned. "Why don't we go ahead, take a look around, and if he isn't here we'll go back, inside the maze"

With a deflated sigh, you cast your eyes around the fields. Hills rolled, and rolled, and rolled as far as the eye could see, holding your hand up to shield your face from the sun. Cacti and boulders dotted around, and trees sprouted randomly, almost bare under the burning of the sun. Those red cows grazed on grass, mooing in the distance. You didn't like the feel of the ranch by any means, but you did feel that you were on the right track. Percy was right; Nico was here, at least nearby. What was the harm?

The dog growled behind you, you'd almost forgotten it was there. With a bark from both heads, it advanced, sniffing the air. It closely resembled a greyhound, thin and long with sleek, brown fur. It, obviously, did not appreciate seeing you on its farm.

And neither did its owner.

A tall, broad man came trudging from the same bushes the dog emerged from, wearing a straw cowboy hat and a tee that said 'Don't Mess With TEXAS'. He carried a huge wooden club sporting spikes bristling from the end against his muscular shoulder. His white hair lay messed from whatever work he was doing, and his mouth was curled in an impressed snarl.

All in all, a very good sign.

"Heel, Orthus," he grumbled. The dog whined but sat, paws held tight together.

You choked on your own breath. "Orthus?" You wrangled out.

Percy leaned in close, as if the man and his dog were not standing right there. "Is that a bad thing or just a really bad name for a dog?"

"This is Cerberus's brother!" You beamed shakily. "The lovely dog we met in the Underworld, remember?"

Gulping, Percy leaned back. "Ah."

The place really was a Greek past come back to haunt you. From ancient monsters to ancient greek ghosts, the party never ended. Maybe it was Luke's doing, releasing them back into the world Perhaps you just got unluckier the further you wewnt on this quest.

"What've we got here?" the man swung down his club. "Cow-pushers?"

"We're only passing through. Just travelling."

"We're on a quest," added Grover helpfully.

The man, who couldn't have been older than middle-age, raised a suspicious brow. "Oh yeah?" he said sardonically. You nodded your head frantically. Being under fire was the least of your concerns when the dog still sat there. "Half-bloods, eh?"

Percy scratched his head. "Could you tell?"

Dropping your hand on his arm, you back Percy up peacefully. Maybe an explanation will help. The man considers the three of you. "This is Percy, son of Poseidon. And Grover, the satyr. I'm a daughter of Athena-"

With a nod of his head, the man's mouth curved. "She the mediator?" He looked from Percy to Grover, completely blanking you. Humiliation pinched you. The man dropped all feelings of humour at your expense and glowered. The change was so sudden you couldn't help raising your hand to the strap of your backpack and feeling for your dagger, making sure it was still there. "I know what you are, half-bloods, because I am one. Surely if you know your legends you should know who I am, missy?" You were not offered a chance to guess. "Eurytion, the cowherd for this ranch. Son of Ares. And I'm guessin' you came through the maze like the other one."

"The other one?" questioned Percy. "Did he mention his name?"

"We get a lot of people come through the ranch," Eurytion uttered somewhat darkly. "Not a lot leave."

"Wow," drawled Percy. "I feel so incredibly welcome."

Eurytion looked over his shoulder like he was expecting someone. Then he turned back and lowered his voice. "I'll only say it once, demigods. You'd better get back inside that maze before its too late."

"Ha! Don't have to tell me twice." You make for the empty cattle-grid hole. A firm hand pulls around the strap of your backpack and stops you before you can jump down.

"We're not going anywhere," Percy said adamantly, "until we see this other half-blood you mentioned."

Eurytion grumbled. He set on past you, past Grover analysing him, and the move of Percy's grip from your bag to your hand, gently tugging you along after the man. "Then you've left me no choice. Should have listened to your girlfriend, here."

Percy spluttered, you stared mortified after the man. Grover shoved a hand at either of your back's to urge you along the way.

Despite his threatening nature, and unhappy expression, the dog at Eurytion's feet seemed relatively happy, diving in and out of bushes and around cacti, barking and springing around. Heat danced off the beaten path he led you down, going on for forever. A blister began to rub at the back of your heel, and before long you were shaking off your jacket, sweating like crazy. It dripped down your face and flies buzzed at your ears, so when you swiped them away every five seconds you closely resembled a crazy woman. At this point, it didn't feel far off. Every few yards, you passed by pens of the cherry cows, and weirder animals, like horses with zebra stripes in black and green, and lizards in cages with tiny little wings and bloodshot eyes that followed you. A fence held back horses in a pen, covered in spikes. At first, you wanted to take Eurytion's giant club and break them free, until you watched a couple breathe fire. The ground at their feet was dirty and charred somewhat, and their stack of hay was on fire.

Percy and Grover shared your reluctance for the animals. "What are they for?" asked Percy. Grover attempted to talk to them and recieved a billow of fire.

"We raise animals for lots of clients; The Lord Apollo, Diomedes, others..."

You draw your eyes to him. "Such as?" you drawl.

"No more questions!"

Your guide came to an end at the approach of a big, white house on an incline, all stone and beautiful windows. It might have been Victorian, judging by the porch trimming and the rose-tinted stained-glass front door.

"Don't break the rules," uttered Eurytion, quiet as ever. "No fightin'. No weapons. And no comments about the boss."

Up the steps, you snorted. "What's wrong with 'the boss'?"

Before he could reply, a new voice called out along the porch. "Aha! Welcome to the Triple G Ranch!"

Oh, sweet gods. At first glance, he seemed normal enough, if you took away the Sportacus-style moustache on his face. He had shiny black hair, and smiled individually at each of you. The wrong part of this was the three bodies.

You held back a gag. The nightmares would be neverending once you got out of here.

Eurytion nudged you. "Say hello to Mr. Geryon," he muttered.

Your voice failed you. Before anyone could do anything, the colored doors to the house flew open, a young voice calling out. After so many months, hearing him was like a breath of fresh air. You could breathe, because Nico was here. Black hair in flat tendrils brushed his brown eyes, a very pale face and small nose scrunching, eyeing the labelled jar in his hands. You forgot, almost, how young Nico really was, but he was here, wandering the maze alone.

You stepped forward, the porch creaking. "Nico?"

It grew silent, but quickly changed. Nico threw the jar to the ground, and it smashed to tiny, tiny pieces. Drawing his sword, he angled it almost instantly at your throat, a fierce expression on his face. The sword he pointed at you was short, extremely sharp-edged, and black, some sort of iron you hadn't seen before. Was it a gift from Hades, you wondered?

Geryon yelled when he saw it. "Put the sword away, Mr. di Angelo. I will not have my guests killing each other."

Nico's face dropped, eyes wide. "But..."

Geryon threw down the skewers he was holding. They clattered against the metal grate of the barbecue he cooked at. You jumped. "I know who they are!"

"They let my sister die! They're here to kill me, too!"

"Nico!" astonished, you reached out your hands, but he shoved away, a terrible hatred in his eyes. "We want to help you, not hurt you. Bianca was an accident—”

“Don’t say her name!” He yelled. There was such an act of anger in his voice. “You’re not even worthy of talking about her! You killed her!”

“Hey!” Barked Percy, approaching behind. “That’s not fair. It’s—hang on, how do you know who we are?”

Geryon winked. “It’s my business to know of everyone who passes by the ranch, sonny. Everyone who comes this way wants something, you see. Now, Mr. di Angelo, put away the damned sword before I have Eurytion take it from you.”

Very reluctant, Nico sheathed his sword. If he weren’t a hell of a lot shorter than you, the boy might have been looking down his nose to you. “If any of you come near me, I’ll summon help. And trust me, you don’t want me to do that. Got it?”

So demanding. To keep the peace, you nodded once. “Yeah. Sure. That’s fine.” If you looked compliant to Nico’s demands, you stand a better chance of him leaving the maze with you.

Geryon approached heavily and clapped a hand on Nico’s shoulder. You wanted nothing more than to pull the young boy away from him. “There, there. We’ve all made nice. Come along folks, I wanna give you a tour of the ranch!”

You weren’t sure what to expect when he said tour, but a ride in a small two-cart and car mobile was not it in the slightest. The carts were painted black and white in a cowhide pattern, a bell dancing back and forth from the ceiling of the car cab.

“Damn,” you huffed, climbing up after Grover and settling heavily into the seat. “I was hoping for a Mercedes.” He snorted after you. “Never-less, we ride in style.”

The dire cart lurched forward, its gold bell ringing above. Geryon pointed out different animals and pens, chugging along the hills. You couldn’t help enjoying it somewhat, able to take the humour from the situation after a stressful few days. You pointed out some sheep with shaggy black hair and eight pudgy legs, like spiders. They walked in a line like Capybaras, round and round the pen. Past horses with wings but not Pegasus. Their wings were scarlet, and fluffy.

“Do they lay eggs?” Asked Grover, leaning forward to squint at the animals.

“Once a year!” Geryon called over his shoulder. You couldn’t help feeling sorry; the animals didn’t look too happy. “They’re very in demand, lately. The omelettes are spectacular!”

“That’s cruel!” Cried Grover, sitting back with hunched shoulders.

“Gold is gold,” Geryon waved off, a mean grin taking place. “And, you haven’t tasted the omelettes. Hush.”

“That’s not right,” Grover muttered. Geryon continued his narrated tour with the sun beating down. You wished you packed sunscreen as your cheeks began to itch.

“Now, over here are the fire-breathing horses. You probably saw ‘em on your way up here. They’re bred for war, fightin’, if you couldn’t tell.”

“What war?” Asked Percy.

You didn’t like his sly face. “Oh, you know, whichever comes around. And over there are the prized red cows.”

“There’re so many!” Grover peered.

“Yes, well. Dear Apollo is too busy to see them,” he sneered. “He subcontracts to us. We breed them vigorously; there’s such demand as of late.”

“That’s not dodgy at all.”

“Demand for what?” Pried Percy tensely.

“Food, of course.” Duh, Percy, it sounded like. “Armies gotta eat.”

You hum. “So, if I’m getting this right, you kill the sacred cows of a god for burger meat? I swear that’s against some laws, man.”

“Lordy, girl! Don’t get so worked up! They’re just animals.”

Grover almost had a fit. “Just animals?!”

“Yes. If Apollo cared, he would let us know.”

“That’s if he knows,” you fold your arms, putting your feet up on the side of the cart. Geryon met your eye in the mirror—if looks could kill.

A little voice cried from the back cart. Nico. “We had business to discuss, Geryon, and this isn’t it!”

“All in good time, di Angelo,” he mused. He hooted. “Look over here; my exotic possessions.”

The field now was crawling with scorpions, the giant, creepy ones that originally backed you and Percy into the maze. They snapped and clacked, and tried pinching at the fence as you passed.

“Triple G Ranch! Your mark was on the crates at camp. Quintus got his scorpions from you!”

“Quintus?” Geryon shrugged. “Short, grey hair, muscular?”

“Yeah,” said Percy.

“Never heard of ‘im.”

Something cold spread in your chest. Realisation, almost. “Oh,” you shivered. “Hang on. Quintus knew about the maze the whole time, then. He’s been going in and out for who knows how long trading monsters. We’ve been trying to figure out how the maze works, but the loser’s known this whole time!” Grover whispered for you to quieten down, but you couldn’t. Because if Quintus knew about the maze, knew where the ranch was and how to get to it, and back out again, who could say he hadn’t done it before. Who could say he hadn’t led Luke and the army into the maze, and who was to say he wasn’t guiding them. He hadn’t protested your quest. Just what the hell was he playing at?

“Now, to your left you’ll see the very best the ranch has to offer!”

The ‘very best’ turned out to be a terrible state of a stables, containing horses just mulling around in their own…you know what. Sitting beside a giant, green-tinged river, the stables had to be the most disgusting display of very best you ever set your eyes on. From the back of the cart, Nico gagged loudly at the smell.

“What the hell is that?!”

Geryon smiled proudly. “My stables! Well, technically we house the horses for a small fee. Aren’t they just…” he inhaled deeply, “beautiful.”

Percy scoffed, and Grover yelled out. “They’re disgusting! How can you even keep innocent animals like that?”

Geryon slammed a palm down on the cart. You didn’t jump this time; you expected it. “Y’all are getting on my damn nerves. These are flesh-eating horses. They like these conditions!”

“Have you asked them?” You tapped your fingers on your thigh.

“It’s in their nature,” Geryon ground through clenched teeth. “They love it.”

“Plus, you’re too cheap to have them cleaned out,” came a voice beneath Eurytion’s hat.

Geryon snapped. “Quiet, now! Alright, perhaps the stables are challenging to keep on top of. Maybe they do make me feel nauseous. And what? I still get paid.”

There were many words you could have used to describe Geryon: cheap, distasteful, creepy, rude. The fitting word in this case, given his prideful and clearly narcissistic nature, was…

“You’re a monster.”

Geryon stopped the cart. Grover let out a sad sigh, watching the horrible man turn in his seat. He met your gaze. “What gave it away, sweetheart? Was it the three bodies?”

You rolled your eyes and looked away, slouching down the seat as if it would get the attention off of you. “Don’t be condescending. I’m only telling the truth.”

His nostrils flared, hot-tempered. “My clients appreciate it. I do good work, here.”

You let out a sudden laugh sitting upright. “Is one of these ‘clients’ Kronos, at all?” Percy whispered your name warningly. “You just supply his army, don’t you?”

Geryon shrugged and confirmed it without words. “I work for anyone who can pay.” He climbed out of the cart and took a leisurely stroll toward the stables, as if he hadn’t just confirmed he was working with Kronos. A tiny figure scampered after him, and a much bigger one—Eurytion—after him.

“We really need to grab Nico and get out of here.”

Grover nodded in agreement. “How, though? I might be wrong but he doesn’t really seem to want to come with us.”

“Anyone got snacks left? Maybe we can bribe him with food.”

“He isn’t a dog,” snickered Percy. “We just need to get close enough and then run.”

“We’re not kidnapping a kid, Percy.”

“I came here for business!” Nico screamed from the stables side. “And you haven’t answered me!”

Geryon reached out and plucked up a handful of cactuses like they were soft teddies. “You’ll get a deal, all right.”

Nico’s tiny figure got right in Geryon’s personal space. “My ghost told me you’d help! He said you could guide us to the soul we need.”

You groaned. “He has a personal ghost assistant now?” Laying your head back against the wood, you watched Percy, grappling with something internally. His face twisted, then he nodded his head.

“I think it’s Minos.”

Grover spluttered, hooves clattering on the cheap floor of the cart. “As in, King Minos? Dead Minos?”

“I haven’t heard of anyone else called Minos…”

You exhale slowly. “Damn, I thought I was the soul Nico wanted. Y’know, after what happened to Bianca.”

In a tiny voice, Percy murmured, “Me, too.”

“You thought Nico wanted my soul and didn’t say anything about it?”

“Apparently so.”

“Can you help me or not?!” Nico cried.

Geryon shrugged. “Oh, I could. Your ghost friend; where is he?”

Nico struggled, looking uneasy. “He can’t appear in broad daylight. But he’s around somewhere.”

Geryon nodded slowly, watching Nico’s reactions. “I figured. Typical Minos, always disappearing when things get difficult.”

Nico stepped back, right into Eurytion. “What do you mean by difficult?”

“You see, Nico, Luke Castellan is offering a bit of money for half-bloods, especially powerful ones like you and Percy, over there. When Luke learns just who you are, Nico, you’ll be priceless! He’ll pay…very well, to put it lightly.”

In a flash Nico drew his sword, but Eurytion grabbed it with a strong hand and threw it from his grip. You jumped up in an instant and pulled your dagger, only to be thrown down back in the seat by a strong force and a snap of snarling jaws. Geryon laughed heartily. “I’d stay in the car, you guys! Or Orthys will tear out your friend’s voice box! So, Eurytion, could you please secure Nico and take the sword. I do hate Stygian iron.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, you absolute fool!”

Eurytion picked up Nico in one strong arm, kicking and flailing, and the sword in his free hand. Geryon turned and clapped his hands, pleased. “So, let’s go back to the house, hm? We can have lunch and send a message to our friends in Kronos’s army. Once Nico has been delivered, you three are free to go! I have been paid for your safe passage, which does not include Mr. di Angelo, I’m afraid.”

“Paid by who?” Threw Grover.

“Never you mind!” He snapped, then calmed. “Let’s go, then.”

“Wait!”

You wanted to tell Percy to shut up and let you make the plans, because you’d gotten this far. But the dog still had you pinned down, and smelled so bad you could scarcely breathe without wanting to heave.

“You said you’re a businessman,” said Percy. “So make me a deal. I’ve got something better than gold.”

Geryon mulled over this. “Mr. Jackson, you have nothing.”

“You could have him clean the stables,” offered Eurytion not-so-helpfully.

Percy jumped at the chance. “I’ll do it! If I fail, you get all of us. You can give us to Luke.”

“That’s assuming the horses don’t think you’re a bite to eat.”

“Either way, you’ll get my friends! But if I succeed, you have to let us all go, and Nico!”

“No!” Screamed Nico ungratefully. “I don’t want your help, Percy!”

Geryon laughed mirthlessly. “Percy, the stables have not been cleaned in years. Though I could probably sell more space if they’re cleaner…”

“So what have you got to lose?”

Idiot boy.

Eurytion stared at the sun and nodded. “Okay. I’ll accept your offer. But if you fail, your friends are sold off and I get rich.”

“Deal.”

Eurytion rubbed his hands together greedily. “I’ll take your friends back up the hill with me. They can wait for you there.” He whistled, and the dog on your lap jumped away from you and onto Grover’s feet.

Percy climbed out of the cart and rounded to your side, sitting up. He was red in the face from the heat of sitting under the sun in jeans, and the pressure of making a terrible deal. He locked eyes with you.

“I hope you know what you’re doing, here.”

“I hope so, too.” His hand slipped from the edge of the cart.

“Sunset!” Geryon instructed. “No more time after that.”

You left Percy by the lake under the hot, hot sun.

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[comatosebunny09]

fun-sized | leon k.

summary: somehow, musing about being short lead to an obsession with leon’s boobs.

genres: romance, humor

cw: suggestive themes, reader is short, leon is a cheeky little sh!t, stream of consciousness, not proofread

music inspo: if - r5

Being short isn’t all bad. Sometimes, it has its perks.

Strangers pity you in the supermarket, for example. Watch with fond smiles and swelling hearts while you struggle to fetch a box of Froot Loops from the topmost shelf—it would be the last box with marshmallows, too. 

As your poor little calves sting and your fingers strain and you whimper pitifully for added effect, a leggy gentleman often swoops in to save the day.

You don’t have to duck beneath low tree branches when jogging through the park, either. Not at all fazed when your taller coworkers play limbo to avoid a splinter to the face.

Being fun-sized also comes in handy when dodging chainsaws and blades on a mission. Helps that you’re an agile little spider monkey, but you don’t have to do some fancy footwork to avoid having your head lopped off. You can simply duck.

Sure, you have to climb onto your countertops to reach the spice rack. Need a step ladder to retrieve plates from the cupboard. And maybe you have to put a little more oomph into your jumps to reach the pullup bar at the precinct. But the best part of being petite is, well...

Having the best view in the house.

That view being Leon S. Kennedy’s bodacious tits.

They flex invitingly in your peripheral whilst he reaches overhead to fetch a coffee mug. Doesn’t help that his shoulder rigs cup his bosom just right. And, of course, his dress shirt is tapered, accentuating the shape of his Adonis-like pecs.

Yeah, you could be a little more subtle with your ogling. Nearly scorch yourself with piping coffee, too preoccupied with Leon’s nipples that pebble in the cool air conditioning. But, he’s warm-bodied and virile beside you. Exudes the heady aroma of gun oil and cashmere. Stubble dapples his chin, and the golden slither of collarbone playing peek-a-boo with your vision beneath his button-up, well…

It takes every bit of you not to bite your lip, grateful the break-room’s free of any other occupants. It’s embarrassing enough eying your superior like a piece of prime rib.

Leon’s Adam’s apple bobs, causing you to instinctively swallow. Don’t even know when you stopped breathing, static filling the space between your ears. The definitive click of the cupboard being shut brings you back to the present. And you would nearly leap out of your skin, caught like the proverbial child rifling through the cookie jar.

His chuckle tinges the air, warm milk and honey to your ears. Tingles in the tips of your toes. Sparkles in the crown of your head whilst your cheeks flood with heat.

“Think you dropped something,” Leon drawls on the edge of your ear. Incredibly close, the heat radiating off his torso, branding your arm as he reaches around to pluck the coffee pot from your shaky fingers.

“W-what’d I drop?” you sputter, scanning the floor like a fool. Your gaze settles on Leon’s chest when another chuckle cascades from his lips. When a battle-worn finger creeps beneath your chin, angling your head back. His eyes swim with mischief, glittering like sea glass.

“Your jaw, sweetheart,” he croons as if taking part in a naughty secret.

You glimpse Leon’s crow’s feet before he draws away. Miss the warmth he emits, your voice corked in your throat. You watch pathetically, rooted to the floor whilst he ambles towards the break-room’s entrance, a hand stuffed in his pocket.

Before he crosses the threshold, Leon jests over his shoulder, “Gonna watch me like that; you should buy me dinner first.”

It’s out before you can think, hopefulness prickling your limbs. “W-what do you like to eat?”

It serves its purpose, stopping him in his tracks. The smirk he dons when he faces you again siphons your breath.

He stalks towards you before you can process things, soundless as a feline. Places his mug on the counter, spilling over you like liquid fire. Your back collides with the wall; didn’t even notice how close you were to it. Shiver as he sweeps an errant lock of hair behind your ear, suddenly caging you in with brawny arms on either side of your head.

You shrink beneath his power whilst he leans in. Jerk when he gathers your cheek into his palm, leaning down to whisper obscenities against the pulse point behind your ear.

Your knees buckle, and your lashes shutter from the absurdity of it all. From the sodden promises murmured against your skin, causing your tongue to loll about in your mouth.

Leon departs after whittling you down. Leaves you boneless, every egotistical ounce of him filtering from the room alongside him.

“So, dinner at seven?” you quip to his retreating back in the hallway, battling the thundering of your heart in your rib cage.

[writingoddess1125]

Texas State Fair

TF 141 + Alejandro going to the Texas State fair with Gigs

Just me on my Crack Head Shit again! Don't take anything seriously

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• After a far too hard of a mission you decided the guys all needed to lay low and get a fun treat- So you took them to your home to stay till their flights back over the pond.

• Back at your home you had them set up in your guest rooms and livingroom.

• Of course treated them with the upmost hospitality you decided to let them have a little fun.

• Starting of course with a hearty breakfast for the bunch

• "Fucking Hell-" Simon grumbled as he saw the damn platters of food. Eggs, Hashbrown, Grits, Biscuits, Pancakes, bacon, sausage, sausage gravy and some fruits you had lying around.

• "This is a scone-" Gaz said as he held the buttermilk biscuit in hand, Earning a hard glare from you.

• "Just eat the dam' thing" You shot back at him with a glare, the man grumbling before taking a bite and freezing.

• A hint of a smile going over his lips as he finished off the pastry quickly-

• Fucking thought so-

• Each one of them tucking into the hearty breakfast at hand and clearly had favorites.

• Alejandro enjoyed the hashbrowns with over easy eggs

• Price enjoying the grits quite a bit with scrambled

• Gaz dogging out the Biscuits and Gravy.

• Soap ate his stack of Pancakes in delight along side the mountain of Aunt Jemima syrup

• And Simon ate essentially everything but you noticed he liked to make sandwiches with his food using the biscuits.

• "Alright boys, ready to be tourist today?"

• You say cheerfully and watch their eyes get big-

• This was going to be fun - For you

• Maybe lucky was just on your side but you'd taken them to the Texas State Fair. Getting them civilian clothes from Walmart which they had a trip going through.

• Ending up at the Fair after a nice drive in your old truck you smile as the guys get hit with the wave of people and games laid before them. It was absolutely massive

• Deciding to just get the christening over with you take them to the Pits- Getting them to try that years contestants and pit masters specialties from each stall.

• Them almost losing their minds when they saw the prices-

• You of course needing to flex your home so it wasn't a problem as you handed them the paper plates.

• Simon took a peice of the meat and slipped it under his mask first. You see his eyes widen at the taste as he continued to pick through the damn thing at quick speeds. The rest following suite.

• Price Having a damn good time with the smoked sausages as he acted like he hadnt had breakfast. Even if you knew the poor old man would have some heartburn after this.

• Drifting through the fair you showed them all the fusions in for the big contest- which had defiently been hit or miss by your guys standards.

• Alejandro speaking to some stall members as they gave him some stuff to try free and trying different fusions of some things he grew up on.

• A Froot Loop Shrimp doing Gaz in as he damn near lost his Breakfast and BBQ after a bite.

• The favorites among the men being a smothered Torta which they all demolished.

• Which you were greatful for since your wallet was defiently starting to burn-

• Soaps eyes however handed on the Funnel Cake stand and you of course bought him one.

• Soap had the biggest sweet tooth out of the bunch and looked at the Funnel Cake like it was the second coming of God.

• "Ay Fuc ya thats good-" Soap said as he took a bite of the Funnel Cake and gave laugh. You could practically see the sugar rush setting into the Scotsman.

• After a few hours of running you get to the drink stands, Deciding some liquor was in order.

• "Bitc' about it an I'll clock y'u" You warned pointedly at them. Which made him shut up and drink the beers provided.

• From some shots, to Margaritas and then of course a river of beer ready for you all.

• " 'merican Beer is disgustin" Soap grumbled as he looked at the light colored liquid set infront of him by you.

• After the drinks, the alcohol clearly getting to the men as they went to play some games.

• Releasing highly trained soldiers out to kiddy Fair games was probably the worse decision ever- Like setting a Olympian to a athletic competition.

• Winning time and time again each game, getting the biggest prizes or even cash at times.

• By the end of night the men were full and ready to sleep for the next 3 days. You driving them all the way back to your home and smiling as you saw the pile of hardened soilders passed out in the back of your truck like children.

• Sharp shooting, Darts, Ring Ross, Test of Strength-

• Every. GOD. DAMN. GAME.

• By the end each man had a clear plastic bag full to the brim with shit and most was offered to you. The giant bull stuffed animal as big as you being as much evidence-

• This leading to more drinks of course-

• When the rides came however they were well drunk- You feeling like you were watching a group of 6ft+ Toddlers wreck havoc over the fair as they dragged their prizes and went on Faris wheels and mini rides.