#probably will disappear for a few hours to read or whatever to get my mind out of this state

[generalllimaginesss]

"If the entire human population was in front of me, I'd still choose you” with Jack.

I can only imagine what it would be like to have fans attack you if you were publicly dating him. I feel like Jack is so conscious of this. And he’s just soft boyfriend Jack trying to block out the unnecessary noise.

Maybe they just went public and she’s getting a lot of hate and it’s making her insecure. And Jack reminds her that it’s just them against the world and the only people whose opinions matter are their family and friends who love her.

Warnings: self depreciation, insecurities, self image issues, etc. Please don't read if you're not in a good headspace!!!

This is probably my favorite thing that I’ve written. I hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!

plus size! reader x Jack Hughes

••

You knew that dating somebody in the limelight would have its challenges. Hell, dating an average person was hard. But nothing could have prepared you for the magnitude of hate that hit as soon as Jack went public with your relationship.

It wasn't like the relationship was new. The two of you had been dating for almost a year before he decided to post you on his Instagram. You let Jack set the pace since he was used to the attention. He could let things go in one ear and out the other a lot easier than you could. He was almost conditioned to be able to do that. You, on the other hand, took everything very personally. Every comment about your weight, about what you wore, about how Jack looked miserable with you, they all hit you like a ton of bricks.

You didn't understand why all of these people were coming at you saying so many horrible things, but Jack tried his best to ease your mind and remind you that at the end of the day it was you and him.

He did a really good job at this normally, but he was away on a roadie for a few days and things began to get really bad. This started when you saw a fan account for Jack post something about how Jack downgraded from Sienna to you and all of the comments agreeing.

It was like a rabbit hole...once you clicked on that post it led you to many others. They all made you feel like shit, but when people started commenting on your body, saying that they "didn't know Jack dated plus size girls," it hurt. Your body was yours. It wasn't like you could just zip it off and find a new one, but if you could you would, just to shut the comments up.

You spent the 3 days Jack was gone in a really dark depression. No laundry was done, you hadn't showered, and you barely could make yourself get out of bed to brush your teeth. Dishes piled in the sink, but you couldn't make yourself do them. You knew the signs of your depression, but you welcomed them in a way, almost like a coping mechanism. Not allowing people to see you was the only way the haters couldn't get new material. Was it a healthy way to cope? Obviously not, but it was what worked in the moment.

As soon as Jack walked through the front door, returning from the games, he could tell something wasn't right. You always kept up with the chores when he was away, normally making the house spotless before he got back. So when he saw the state of the kitchen and eventually the rest of the house, he knew something was off.

When he walked into the bedroom and saw that you were pretty much in the same spot he left you in he immediately dropped his bags and climbed into the bed with you, forcing you to look at him.

He gently shifted your body to face him, cupping your cheek gently with his hand.

"Baby, what happened," He made note of the streaks that stained your face, probably from countless hours of crying. He wanted to make them disappear immediately. You were his happy-go-lucky, carefree girl. You danced around the house all the time, singing whatever song was playing. This side of you was uncharted territory that he wanted to take away so bad.

"I just need you to hold me," You began to hyperventilate, worried that if he didn't hold you that he would leave you. Even though that would never in a million years cross his mind. But he did as you asked, and whether it was for 5 minutes or 30 minutes, he didn't know. He held you until you pulled away.

"Can we talk about it?" Jack asked, pulling the hair that crusted on your cheek from the tears out of your face. He treated you like you were fragile, and you hated that he felt that way.

"It's just the comments, Jack. I'm already insecure sometimes and these people come at me in so many horrible ways," You began to explain, loose tears streaming down your face, but you were composed otherwise.

"They compare me to Sienna, and God, I know I'm not as pretty as her. They tell me I'm fat and that they didn't know you dated "fat" girls. It's just insane. Do they not realize that I actually am a real person with real emotions? Do they know that I've believed, at some point in time, the things they are saying? I've worked so hard to get to this place where I'm at, to love who I am, and within the span of 3 days they just tear it all down," You let the words just flow from your mouth, whatever thought that comes to mind is voiced to Jack.

"Baby, they don't care. They don't care because they're jealous," He tries to soothe you, but it almost made you mad. Not at Jack, but at the whole situation.

"What the fuck are they jealous of? My thighs that I cover with leggings and pants so that I won't have to go through the pain of them chafing? Are they jealous of the fucking stretch marks that go up my stomach, so I refuse to wear regular bikini bottoms? I mean what the fuck, do they want my anxiety and depression? I will gladly give them that..." The tears were beginning to pick up, but Jack continued to rub your back, waiting to get the chance to speak again.

"I know you could have any girl you wanted. It makes me sick when I see some blonde walk past that looks like she stepped out of a magazine because I know that's what you deserve. You don't deserve this. You're Jack fucking Hughes," You looked at him, your lip quivering. You were going to say something else, but Jack put his finger on your lips, gently stopping you from continuing.

"You gotta stop that. I can't let you keep putting yourself down like this, not when I love you with my whole fucking heart," He began.

"First off, I had that. I had whatever you consider a girl walking out of a magazine is. Look how that turned out. It didn't, did it? You don't look like Sienna, and I'm so fucking glad because I don't want her kind of beautiful. I want your kind. I want to see all of the things on your body that show me that you lived. I don't want some manufactured cookie-cutter girlfriend. I want somebody that nobody else has," He pulled you in for a hug, continuing to talk while placing kisses ever so gently on your cheek and neck, looking out the window at the busyness that was the outside world. All he could think about was how you didn't see what he saw. Why couldn't you see it?

"Baby, I want you to realize something. If the entire human population was in front of me, I'd still choose you. Without a second thought, with no regrets. Every. Single. Time. You have such a special relationship with my brothers and that means the absolute world to me. They love you so much. My parents tell me I should marry you anytime that you come up in the conversation. The entire team has commented on how much happier I am with you. And if I'm being completely honest, at the end of the day I don't give a damn what anybody else has to say because it's me and you until the end. Do you understand me?" He broke the hug, cupping your face with both hands and wiping at the tears with his thumbs.

"I love you," You whisper, your voice long gone by now.

Jack pulls your forehead toward his lips, kissing it for a few seconds before letting your head go.

"I love you, too. More than you, or anybody else, will ever know. Now, I think we could go for some cleaning karaoke, yeah? I'll wash the dishes if you'll dry them," He poked at your side, trying, and succeeding, in forcing a grin on your face.

"Only if we can get a shower together afterwards," You bargained, taking in the beautiful boy.

"Deal," He says and drags you off to the kitchen, connecting his phone the the speaker and blaring Dierks Bentley's new song "Beer at My Funeral," occasionally twirling you in a circle.

The water may or may not have gotten everywhere since Jack decided it was a good idea to spray you with the hose that connected to the sink, but he enjoyed every second that he got chased by you around the island.

Once the dishes were put up and the shower washed away the remaining bit of your depression, Jack couldn't help but to just admire you. He promised himself then that he would remind you so often of how beautiful you were so that would be the only words ringing through your head, taking up any space that the hate may have. Because it was true. You were the most beautiful and precious thing that had ever walked into his life, and he'd be damned if anyone made you feel otherwise.

*

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*

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[appleblueberry-pie]

I just read your fic and my brain went into thinking mode again :(

Reader just being wholesome with children. Like using Mayday as a therapy method for self-trust issues.. Def babysits May to trust herself with touching other people 😭❤

IT'S 3 AM HELP ME.

What Isn't There To Love About You?

im just writing these for pure amusement now. HATE being formal with my own writing and realized i can literally have fun.

"So, this was where he was last night." Miguel pulls up footage from last nights fail at capturing some random universe's villain. It wasn't that doing investigation work was boring or anything. It's just that it's been four hours trying to get to the bottom of this disappearance into some other universe. And then trying to find the probability of capturing this villain and the whole shazam. You don't know how Miguel did it. Maybe it was the 6 coffees he had in one day or the random sass and anger fueling him to keep running, but you weren't made out of whatever he was made out of.

You kept your stone face as you watched the footage and leaned forward to point out his glitches here and other possible universes that had a strange pop-up weirdo at around the same time frame. "...because right here..." You zoomed in and before you could further explain, a childish squeal broke you out of your trance. You and Miguel look up and see the beautiful baby girl that was Mayday hanging off of her few webs from above.

You dramatically gasped and called out to her. "Now, who left you here hanging unattended?? Who would do such a thing??" You playfully placed your hands on your hips and she babbled back at you, lighting up your clouded mind. Miguel rolls his eyes. "Actually, she's been there for about 30 minutes." He grumbles. You turn around to glare at him. "You let her stay up there for that long?" "She's a distraction."

You scoff and hold your arms out to her. She wastes no time in dropping down to you, letting you squeeze her like the teddy bear she was. "There's my favorite girl! How've you been?? Aww, look at your hair, you messed it up again. Where's that brush I had, Miguel??" You held her on one hip, bouncing her as you dig through the drawers to find the comb that was no longer in the room. "......." Miguel tries to slyly steal glances at you as you handle Mayday like she was your own child.

Your loud and bubbly talking to her eventually calm down to you holding her to your chest as you calmly talk to her. "I wonder how you'll be when you start school. You're already so smart, swinging around the place like it's nothing." You laugh to yourself and instead comb your fingers through her hair. It was honestly such a breath of fresh air compared to staring at screens at hours on end. You stop leaning on the desk and hum quietly to her, looking back over to the monitors, only to find Miguel staring down at you over his shoulder.

".....What?" He sighs and turns back around, typing again. "......it's her nap time." You raise your eyebrows and look down to actually see the girl falling asleep in your arms. You wonder why Peter left her unattended like this. Speaking of the devil, the man comes swinging onto the platform before you can go down and sees his daughter asleep. "Oh my god, Y/n, you are a lifesaver. I was looking for her everywhere. And you are a magician to get her asleep on time. She usually makes a fuss...." He goes on to talk for the next few minutes, not before shifting her into his arms to take her back to his universe.

This time, you couldn't really pay attention to his long speech, instead staring longingly at the girl asleep in his arms. When he leaves, Miguel is already leaning back on his work table, staring longingly at you. ".....I've always wanted a little girl." Miguel smiles at you and walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face into your neck. "Yeah? Serías una madre increíble." (You would be an amazing mother)

You smile at his words. "Me vuelves loco con lo talentoso que eres. Y verte así con ella me enloqueció. Déjame tenerte." He almost seemed to growl the words, making your stomach flutter with butterflies. He holds you tighter and trails his hands to where your zipper began. "Here?" Miguel groans at the fact that he's still at work and stops himself from unzipping you. He removes himself from you entirely to angrily type up another report and you instead stand behind him and rub his back. "That's okay, you can just show me how you feel when you get home." A growl erupts at his throat and you laugh. (You drive me crazy with how talented you are. And seeing you with her like that drove me wild. Let me have you.)

Miguel looks over his shoulder and down at you to glare into your mischievous eyes. "Watch that mouth." "I'm serious." Miguel doesn't like hiding from you. Seeing him stare down at you like you were a piece of meat made you look away and he curses under his breath. He hated how restricted he was to just sit with his cock hard until he had the option to leave. And how it seemed like you were free to torture him with your bratty attitude and beautiful face and body. He hates this and loves you. The only angel he'll let fall into his arms down from what he calls heaven.

[libraryofloveletters]

I Spy With My Little Eye

Dominik Szoboszlai x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dom is so cheesy but he also disappeared and you're like ??, a bit plot heavy, so many random tasks, reader thinks dom has lost his mind, major sweetness at the end.

Word Count: 970

Author's Note: dedicated to my fellow dom enthusiast @curiousthyme <3

--

This Christmas was different. Dom made you work for your gift rather than giving it to you; following the clues through the neighbourhood to your final gift.

There was some time before Christmas and Dominik suggested a trip to Germany, the place you two called home for quite a bit of time while he played with Leipzig. You still had your place there as you bounced back and forth between there and Liverpool for work so you two were staying there for a few days.

You felt the mattress dip, your boyfriend's warm hand on your forehead. His lips by your ear, "I've got some errands to run, sweetheart. I'll be back later." he whispers, kissing your head.

A mumble and you feel around, patting his cheek before rolling over and going back to sleep.

It wasn't until an hour later than you got up, finding Dom's side of the bed still empty. There was a note on the pillow, you assumed it was just him reiterating what he had told you before he left, knowing you'd be too sleepy to really listen to him.

You unfolded the page, reading the words he had scribbled down.

check your favourite hiding spot for a gift - xoxo D.

The sun peeked through the curtains, you forced yourself out of bed to go into the living room. The ottoman sat on the rug, you smiled to yourself. Dom never used the ottoman, in fact he hated the thing; it was ugly and clunky but you liked it for some reason so he left it. Plus he knew you used it as a hiding spot because he often forgot it was there.

Pushing the top open, there's a box wrapped up with ribbon and a note tucked under it. The note was opened first.

get ready and head to Julie's for the next note - xoxo D.

You had no idea what he was up to but you folded the page again, taking the lid off of the box to find a dress you had been telling him about for weeks. You haven't been able to find it in stores or online. You're not sure how he did it but you're sure he used his 'connections' as he called it to find it for you.

As the note said, you went through your morning routine and got ready, your coat wrapped around you and boots on as you headed out and into the snow.

The bell rings on the cafe door, the smell of baked goods welcomes you back home. "Y/n!" Julie beamed, you weren't expecting to see her in, especially not on a Saturday morning.

"Hey!" You smiled.

"Here you go," she passed you your usual coffee order and an envelope. You reach for your purse to pay her but she shakes her head, "Dom paid."

You smile, opening the envelope and reading the note.

meet me where we had our first kiss - xoxo D.

It takes you a moment to think back, it feels like a million years ago but then it hits you, the park.

You thank Julie for the coffee and you're off again, making your way through the snow, cursing Dom in your head for choosing a snowy day to do whatever it was that this was. It's a short walk to the park, specifically to the park rangers' office; yes you had your first kiss outside of their office. You were on a walk and it started pouring rain, Dom pulled you there to keep you out of the rain and kissed you for the first time there.

It was more romantic in the morning, but thinking about it now made you giggle.

You looked around for your boyfriend, hoping this would be the last of the walking as your legs were killing you.

Someone pats your shoulder, a park ranger. "Are you y/n?"

"Yeah," you nod, the man hands you yet another envelope. You're a bit annoyed, knowing you'd probably have to walk some more but you open it.

follow the ranger. no more walking, I promise - xo D.

It's as if he read your mind. "Lead the way," you tell the man, he nods and leads you over to one of their little cars.

You knew this path, it led to the gazebo at the edge of the park that overlooked the water. You get out of the car, thanking the man as you walk over to the gazebo. There are candles and flowers everywhere. As you make your way closer, you're expecting to see Dom but you don't.

A bit confused, you look around but then feel someone tap your shoulder; Dominik is on one knee behind you when you turn around.

"Dom.." You look at the man, your jaw hangs open slightly.

"Y/n," he smiles, "the last 5 years have been the best of my life, as cheesy as it sounds. You've been through the good and the bad, stuck to my side no matter what and I can't thank you enough for that. I hope you know how much you mean to me and will always mean to me so," he smiled at you again, opening the small box in his hand.

"Will you do me the honour and marry me?"

You're in shock, nodding but then you remember you actually have to answer him. "Yes!" You lean down, hands on his face as you kiss him. Dom stands, still kissing you for a moment before he pulls away, slipping the ring onto your finger.

Your boyfriend- fiancé, pulls you back into a hug, kissing you as he picks you up, giving you a good squeeze.

"I know you've always wanted a Christmas proposal but not on Christmas." He laughs, forehead pressed to yours.

You smile, tears in your eyes as your hand presses to his face. "It was perfect, perhaps less walking would have been better but still," you giggled, Dom kissed you once more, hugging you.

[spiderlandry]

when the sun leaves me — quinn bailey

Description: Quinn finds herself often asking where exactly she stands with you. The problem is that she only ever asks herself, never you.

Pairings: Quinn Bailey x F!Reader (she/her pronouns, reader is referred to as a girl)

Content: fluff, angst if you squint, non-gf!quinn so it’s probably ooc but she’s my babygirl so idec, alcohol consumption (not by reader), kissing, use of y/n, unedited, lmk if i missed anything

Word Count: 1.5k

Author’s Note: if u recognize where the title of this comes from, u have my heart <3

Quinn wakes up first.

A weight is splayed across her body, and her eyes squint the the window, almost groaning at the lack of sunlight from its west-facing wall. The weight on her is not even, but it is you. Something weird is that none of you feels suffocating. You’re just there. It’s comforting, but she wishes you’d suffocate her instead.

Rubbing her hands up and down your arm, you stir against her side, instinctively burrowing yourself into her side. She fights back a smile.

Her eyes close for the next few minutes to relish in the silence of your sleeping presence.

Until, there’s an unintelligible mumble in her neck.

“What?” She asks, looking down at you.

“What time?”

She picks up her phone from the nightstand. “Too early.”

“An actual time?”

“It’s nine.”

“Shit.”

“Why?”

You get up, the warmth disappearing from her side and leaving the bed when you swing your legs over the bed and reach for your bag on the floor.

“I have half an hour to get ready for class,” You mumble, rummaging through your belongings to find your phone.

“You can stay here,” Quinn offers, resting against the headboard. You have your backpack from last night still in her room, so she doesn’t see a problem. “Do you need a shower?”

You’re gawking for a moment and she worries if she’d overstepped, but you reply quickly enough. “What about clothes?”

“There should be some of your clothes in my dresser.”

Your eyes narrow in confusion.

“It’s from when you stayed over while your building did renovations.”

“Oh,” You nod, recalling that week. It had been a long time since then, so the surprise is evident on your face when Quinn remembered. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Quinn situates herself on the side you slept on the night before, basking in the little warmth you had left. The shower starts running, and she hides herself under the covers.

She doesn’t realize she had fallen asleep again until you wake her up by pulling the comforter back, the scent of her own soap reaching her nose. Her eyelids crack open the tiniest bit and she mirrors the smile on your lips.

“I’m gonna make breakfast. D’you want anything?”

She shakes her head, “I’ll eat whatever you cook.”

When you exit the room, Quinn follows a minute after. You’re already making yourself home in the kitchen, and while Quinn comes out of the hallway she’s greeted by a smug-looking Tara. The ginger shuts that down with a stern expression and Tara subsequently backs off.

Quinn can hear the Carpenter sister holding back a snicker when she’s caught smiling at you like a lovesick idiot as you prepare a plate for both of you. You even ask if Tara wants food, and that’s when she politely declines and leaves the room, unable to hold back her laugh anymore.

“What’s with her?” You gesture to the hallway she disappeared into, taking a bite of your breakfast as the other girl does the same from across the breakfast bar.

“Nothing, don’t pay her any mind.” Quinn says a bit too quickly, but you don’t mention that or the slight panic in her voice that only you’d be able to read.

You leave a few minutes later, but not without kissing Quinn’s forehead, a tradition you started when you two got close.

She flops onto the couch with a soft sigh, hugging a pillow to her chest. She doesn’t see her roommate finally coming out of her room.

“So…” The voice startles her, and she spots Tara leaning against the wall adjacent to the sofa. “Y/N?”

“What?”

“When you said life is about variety…I didn’t know you meant girls.”

She groans, “It doesn’t.”

At Tara’s raised brows, Quinn is fast to clarify. “I mean—I like girls. But not her. She’s not a fling.”

“I didn’t say anything about a fling,” The brunette grins.

“You implied it.”

“So…she’s a girlfriend?”

“No!” Quinn threatens to throw the pillow at her friend by raising it up and aiming, to which Tara disappears around the corner. “She’s not my girlfriend. She’s not my anything.”

“Whatever you say,” Tara goes back to her room.

Now that Tara has brought it up, it begins to plague her mind for the next few days.

She starts closely observing how you interact with her.

‘Carpooling’ with you has been such a common occurrence—routine—that it’s never put her off, but now that she’s thinking about what she is to you, she fidgets uncomfortably in her passenger seat while you drive her to meet up with some friends.

“You okay?” You sense her reluctance, the way she’s practically curling into herself.

“I’m fine,” She brushes you off. “Why do you drive me around?”

“Well,” you purse your lips. “You ask me to.”

Quinn would be lying if she said that didn’t make her heart flutter just a bit. “Yeah, but you always agree.”

“It’s just—It’s the nice thing to do.” You shrug. Your hesitation to say that isn’t lost on her. At all.

“Is it?” She questions, more for herself than you. She regains confidence at the thought of you being nervous around her, too. “Do you drive everyone around?”

“You’re the only one who asks.”

The rest of the ride is silent, with Quinn contemplating whether that’s the truth, and you keeping your eyes on the road, a little more focused than usual.

She isn’t always like this. She’s never like this, actually. There has never been anyone who made her lose her typical flirty persona, not even an actor who had once hit on her at a bar, nobody except for you. There’s something about it that’s thrilling, to know there’s someone that can make her feel so differently than the others, but there is no coin without two sides. The other side to this—the con—is that she’s at a disadvantage. Feeling like this is to be vulnerable.

For the entire week, you continue daily life while Quinn is left to wallow in her own thoughts. She doesn’t think you’d ever notice until you actually corner her at a party and demanded answers.

You’re rarely at parties. But Quinn is here, so you’re here. You don’t physically corner her, but it’s basically the same thing when you catch her coming out of the bathroom in the random frat house.

“Hey,” you catch her by the wrist. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Throughout the night, it’s clear that she’d been making an effort to stay out of your way, and a heart constricts within her ribcage when she sees the hurt look on your face.

“What do you mean?” She squeezes between the mass of moving bodies against the pink and purple lights, and you’re desperate to follow her.

You don’t corner her. You leave an opening, a way out if she so diligently wishes. But she knows now, with how you are, that if she leaves, you’ll take it as an answer. If she leaves, she shuts you out indefinitely, but staying means to open her heart to you and though every fiber of her being says make me yours, it’s not that easy. The words are molasses on her tongue. It takes her a few minutes and a drink to get it out, and even if you’re patient, you won’t stay forever.

“This shit scares me,” She finally gathers the courage to face you, and it’s a breath of fresh air when you laugh. “You scare me.”

You don’t talk, you nod for her to continue.

“I don’t even…I don’t know if you like girls, okay? And you—you’re so…touchy with me. Like I can’t decide if straight girls really are just that affectionate and I’m reading into it, but then you kiss me on the forehead and look at me like—like…I don’t know! And—”

A pair of lips—yours—is on hers, effectively cutting off her ramble, and within the second she’s kissing you back. It’s the easiest decision she’s ever made, and when your hands snake across her back to pull her closer, the warmth spreads throughout her entire being. Deepening the kiss by tilting her head, she grabs your jaw to keep you there, and you smile.

But a catcall whistle interrupts the two of you. Remembering where you are, you make a suggestion.

“Wanna get out of here?” You smirk, less than an inch from her lips. She resists the urge to close that distance as to not give the others even more of a show.

“Oh, absolutely. Let’s go.”

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (8/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~3.6k

I'll be honest, I'm gunning for the most heart-wrenching soup scene in the Feysand tag with this one :)

Note that a couple lines are taken directly from ACOTAR book one.

Read on AO3 or you can find the eighth chapter below the readmore.

ch. 1 - the altar is my hips | ch 2. - an arrowhead leading us home | ch. 3 - by the way, i just may like some explanations | ch. 4 - can't not think of all the cost | ch. 5 - honey i rose up from the dead | ch. 6 - this mad, mad love makes you come running | ch. 7 - therein lies the issue, friends don't try to trick you | ch. 8 - it's not his price to pay

Rhys didn't stay long—we needed him upstairs, observing reactions to Lucien helping me and swaying Amarantha if it came to that. A quick clasping of hands and a whispered "stay safe," and he was gone.

I devoured another meal of stale bread and water and estimated a few hours passed before a pair of guards appeared to drag me to the throne room. I let them, not bothering to waste energy on struggling. Instead, I reached down the bond for Rhys.

She's making a point, and she wants you here to witness it. Stay as unassuming as possible.

That's all he said before his mind retreated again. I kept a crack open in my shields for him, and he didn't close his off completely, either.

When a guard threw open the doors to the throne room, I resisted the urge to look around for Rhys, even though I could sense that he was nearby. The room was crowded, but no strange music was playing. A gathering, then, but not whatever passed for a party Under the Mountain.

The guards threw me down at the foot of the dais, right in front of Amarantha. So much for remaining unassuming.

The rubies on her gown glittered in the torchlight, a perfect contrast to the rags I was still wearing. Even the servants here wore fine clothes. I'd looked pitiful scrubbing the floor, but here in this room, it was more than that. I'd never been more obviously a lone human surrounded by faeries, not even in the Spring Court.

"Rhysand was right. You do look dreadful," Amarantha said.

I ignored her. Tamlin was seated next to her, and I watched him for a reaction. It only occurred to me then that I hadn't even thought to ask Rhys what Tamlin had made of me disappearing for weeks, only to appear again and declare myself his champion.

Beyond not wanting him near me again, I hadn't thought of Tamlin at all.

From his vacant expression, I supposed he hadn't thought much of me, either. Other than the initial shock of seeing me alive, he'd barely even looked at me. Perhaps I was nothing more than a tool for him, to be used and discarded when the curse was broken.

"It's come to my attention," Amarantha said, crossing her legs and leaning against the arm of her throne, "that you had some assistance with the first of the chores you were assigned."

Maybe Rhys had been wrong and she meant to punish me, too. I pushed that thought aside before it spiraled into panic. "No one said I couldn't. Unless you're looking to re-negotiate our bargain?" I said with much more confidence than I felt. But still, I'd succeeded in bargaining with her once, and if she was inclined to do it again, I might win another advantage.

Down the bond, Rhys said, Be careful.

I am.

He went quiet again, probably to avoid distracting me. His mind hovered at the periphery of mine.

Amarantha laughed and turned to Tamlin. "Mouthy and difficult. She must have been such a headache for you," she crooned, clearly trying to get a reaction. Tamlin said nothing. I didn't, either. It's not as if I hadn't been called worse. "But no, I'm perfectly satisfied with our terms. The bargain didn't include a deadline to share the riddle I promised you, so in light of your recent behavior, I've decided to keep it to myself. We'll see if my mind changes before your first task."

She was letting me off with a warning—Rhys must have convinced her to. I wouldn't grovel, but I inclined my head slightly in recognition of what she'd done. "I understand," I said evenly.

Some of my fear drained away. There was still a path forward without the riddle, and it seemed I'd escape torture again today.

"There are still members of my court who have to answer for their behavior," Amarantha said, pointing at someone behind me and snapping her fingers.

I whirled around to see Lucien thrashing against the Attor as it tugged him forward by the collar of his tunic. I expected this, but my heart still sank as the Attor forced Lucien to his knees next to me. It smiled as it released him, and I felt sick.

Four red-haired males pushed their way to the front of the crowd. Lucien's fox mask made it impossible to know if they had similar features, but it was obvious enough that these were his brothers. Unlike him, they were all clad in the red and gold of the Autumn Court. They moved as a unit, a pack of wolves out for blood.

"Rhysand," Amarantha said, an obvious summons. Rhys strolled through the crowd, and I tried not to look at him as came to stand beside me and bowed at the waist for Amarantha. It was harder to be afraid with him so close, even as Amarantha flicked a finger in Lucien's direction and commanded, "Hold his mind, but don't crush it. I don't want to end this too quickly."

Mother above—there was a very good chance I was about to stand inches from Rhys as he shattered someone's mind. I understood he could do it, but that wasn't the same as watching it happen.

He didn't seal off the crack in his shields, which was a relief. I wouldn't let him do this alone. The blood will be on her hands. Whatever she makes you do isn't your fault.

There was nothing in response beyond a faint tug back. I dug my nails into my palms to curb the instinct to take his hand. The wild, irrational part of me ruled by the mating bond railed at any distance between us, even just a few inches.

"Yes, my queen," Rhys said, somehow sounding smug and deferential at the same time. A courtier through and through.

Lucien squared his shoulders and closed his eyes, clearly bracing for something. I let the dread show on my face.

Rhys cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, the only indication that he'd done anything. Having felt his talons in my mind, I suspected the movement was just showmanship, that all it would take was a half-hearted swipe and Lucien would be nothing more than an empty shell, even with only a scrap of Rhys's power available to him.

But the performance was clearly working. The crowd quieted as Lucien's entire body went stiff.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. He let out a groan. His brothers' smiles widened.

And then Tamlin—Tamlin—cried out, "Spare him. Please."

It was massively unfair of me, all things considered, but I couldn't help but feel a stab of betrayal at the sight of Tamlin pleading for Lucien's life when my running into danger for him hadn't gotten a thank you. Ruse or not, it was just a reminder that my growing feelings for him had been a one-sided means to an end. Thank the Cauldron I'd found Rhys when I did.

Through the bond, I felt the tiniest flicker of a distinctly fae, territorial satisfaction that could only have come from a mated male. Right. The crack in my shields. Rhys had heard my thoughts, and of course once they'd turned to him, he'd have an opinion.

I half-listened to Tamlin beg and used the opportunity to observe the reactions from the rest of the room. There were fewer horrified looks than I'd initially expected—Rhys crushing minds on Amarantha's orders must be routine here. If anything, the crowd looked bored, save Lucien's four bloodthirsty brothers.

The begging escalated to Tamlin kneeling at Amarantha's feet, and I caught a glimmer of lust in her eyes. If I'd noticed it from a distance, Tamlin must have picked up on it. But he didn't seem to see it for the opportunity it was.

I don't understand. Why doesn't he just hold his nose and fuck her, Rhys? His court might be safer that way.

Tamlin still has an intact sense of self-worth.

I understood the implications of that—Rhys had spent the last fifty years doing what Tamlin refused to because Rhys considered himself worthless enough to sacrifice. Ultimately, the Night Court was safer because of it. A sense of pragmatism does more good than a sense of self-worth. And you're a pragmatist.

Rhys didn't answer with words, just a pulse down the bond of something bittersweet I didn't quite understand.

The sound of Amarantha's voice dragged my attention back to her. "Because you asked so nicely," she said, every word dripping with a sadistic sort of delight, "I'll spare him as long as you're the one dealing his punishment."

"I'll do anything," Tamlin said. With his back to me, I couldn't be sure, but he sounded like he might be crying, or at least fighting off tears.

"Twenty lashes should do," Amarantha said with a shrug, so casual she might as well have been discussing the weather over tea.

That could be enough to kill a human; I wasn't sure if it would do the same to a faerie. Perhaps that was her plan all along—promise to spare Lucien, then have Tamlin mete out a punishment severe enough to kill him anyway. Then she could twist the knife and tell Tamlin that if he'd just controlled his strength better, it wouldn't have happened.

And worse, if I hadn't asked for help, this wouldn't have happened.

As Amarantha used her magic to produce a whip from thin air, Rhys's talons brushed my mind softly. This isn't your fault.

It was so much easier to believe that when I was the one saying it to him. The shame was deep enough to drown me. If only I'd seen this coming, figured something else out…

Tamlin took the whip and stepped down from the dais. Lucien dropped to his knees so abruptly that I suspected Rhys had forced him down. With a gentle hand, Tamlin brushed Lucien's hair over one shoulder and exposed his back. He murmured something to Lucien, probably an apology.

Before I was even sure what I was doing, I blurted out, "I'll do it instead. Don't force Tamlin."

Amarantha looked at me like I'd just given her a gift. And maybe I had.

The bond snapped taut, crackling with Rhys's fear as the crowd's attention shifted back to me. His worry was no surprise after he'd told me to stay unassuming when I'd first walked in. But as a human, my arms were weaker than Tamlin's—I'd injure Lucien less.

I think I owed Lucien that much.

"It's adorable how devoted she is to you, Tamlin," Amarantha said. "It's a shame there won't be anything left when I'm done with her. She'd make an excellent pet after a bit of breaking in."

At that, the anger I felt on Rhys's side of the bond was enough to bring down a mountain, but I couldn't turn and look at him. All I could do was trust his mask wouldn't slip.

Tamlin didn't come to my defense or even look me in the eye, just wordlessly handed the whip to me. Now that I was closer, I noticed shards of something white poking out from the rope, embedded right in the fibers.

Bone.

Amarantha had once served a king who sat on a throne of human bones—of course she'd use the same material to make lashings more painful. Taking a deep breath, I prayed my hands wouldn't shake.

I accepted the whip with my left hand instead of my right. With any luck, no one would have paid enough attention to know it was my weaker side. Using it might spare Lucien further pain.

Then there was nothing to do but grit my teeth and get to it.

Lucien didn't scream or cry out once, even as I made enough welts to crisscross his entire back. Instead, the only sound was Amarantha's gleeful laughter in between the numbers she made Tamlin count out. Somewhere in the distance, a woman sobbed.

I did my best to move my arm as weakly as I could without Amarantha deciding she was dissatisfied and adding more lashes. By the end, I wasn't sure it mattered—there was no exposed, unblemished skin left. Lucien's back was nothing but ribbons of torn skin running with blood. And all by my hand.

I was too numb for tears when I brought the whip down one final time. As I let it fall to the floor, I stared Amarantha down. Amarantha stared back.

"A human with ice in her heart indeed," she said, almost pensive but still loud enough for the whole room to hear. "You've already killed one of our kind, so perhaps this wasn't a difficult task for you."

That was when I truly understood there was no winning Under the Mountain. If she broke me, I was uninteresting enough to discard; if anything came too easily to me, she'd find some new, worse horror for me to endure. The riddle had been my best bet, and I doubted she'd offer it now.

With a wave of her hand, Amarantha dismissed me. I hardly registered it as the guards brought me back to my cell, and when the door slammed behind me, I expected tears to come. My eyes stayed dry.

I sat on the floor, not even bothering to move over to the pallet of hay, and stared at a spot on the wall. I hardly noticed the cold seeping into me from the stone floor. I barely felt anything at all.

Rhys arrived at some point, minutes or hours later. He held a bowl of soup, and it had been long enough since I'd smelled anything appetizing that for a moment, I thought I might be hallucinating it.

"Eat," he said, crouching to place it on the floor next to me.

"I'm not hungry," I said, though it wasn't quite true. I was hungry, but there was no food that seemed the least bit appealing. I had no desire to force myself to eat.

The darkness rippled around him, something I was learning was a sign he was angry. His voice went sharp as he said, "You do realize I can feel your pain through the bond, don't you? That includes your hunger pangs. Eat."

I narrowed my eyes at him and didn't touch the food. If he was here to give me a dressing-down for not keeping quiet in the throne room, I wished he'd just get to the point. "Why are you here?"

Rhys sighed and attempted to make himself comfortable on the pallet of hay. Dressed as immaculately as ever, he looked completely out of place as he crossed and uncrossed his legs. I waited for an answer.

"Because when you stared Amarantha down, your eyes looked hollow. Forgive me for being concerned."

My own irritation rose to meet his. It was hardly pleasant, but in a perverse way, I was glad to feel something. "And soup is supposed to fix that?" I snapped.

I was fully prepared for this to escalate into a full-blown fight, but the wind seemed to go out of Rhys's sails. The darkness around him faded. "I'd bring you hot food more consistently if it wouldn't make the kitchen staff wonder why I was suddenly eating double portions. I can manage this once without arousing suspicion, and you clearly need it tonight."

My own aggravation faded quickly, too. Perhaps it was another effect of the mating bond, but it was just as difficult to keep snapping at him as it was to let him go. I picked up the spoon, stirring the soup but not bringing a mouthful to my lips. I wanted to eat, but the thought of it also made me feel faintly sick. If I took a bite, I suspected it would just taste like ash.

When I didn't say anything, Rhys continued, "One of the more insidious things about this place is how we're all wasting away down here. I haven't wondered where my next meal would come from for the last fifty years, but my wings are so deconditioned from lack of use that I'm not sure I can fly anymore. Don't make the process any faster than it has to be. Eat. I'd rather not make you."

It was obvious he'd feed me himself if that's what it took, and I certainly didn't relish the thought of him jamming the spoon into my mouth. I forced down a few mouthfuls. Although it was well-spiced, the best I could say was that it was warm. I should have been delighted to finally taste a vegetable after days of nothing but bread and water, but I was still feeling too empty to enjoy anything.

Rhys watched me with a single-minded intensity that made the silence become oppressive. "You can give me your speech about how reckless I was," I said, just to break it. "I know you're dying to."

"There is no speech."

"No?" I said, raising my brows.

"I heard your thoughts and understand why you did it. Your choices are your own."

I double-checked that my shields were up and considered that as I ate. The ferocity in Rhys's voice told me he'd meant what he said. I just didn't know what that looked like in practice, not with the way the mating bond had shifted our worlds to revolve around each other.

One more thing to discuss later, then.

Perhaps it wasn't the time, but curiosity was getting the better of me. I changed the subject. "Do you normally take your meals with Amarantha?"

"Sometimes," he said nonchalantly. I still couldn't read him well enough to tell if he was putting up a front or if sharing meals was just such a small thing in light of torture and murder. Both could be true. "Just often enough to convince her that I enjoy her company. Tonight she's dining with Tamlin, and I'll be there to warm her bed when he inevitably rejects her advances."

It really shouldn't have surprised me anymore, but I nearly choked on the piece of carrot in my mouth. It made sense he'd go back to her tonight, though. "Don't run yourself ragged taking care of me when you have a long night ahead of you."

"Bringing you food is hardly a strenuous activity," he said, idly picking at a piece of hay sticking out of the pallet. His voice went softer as he added, "And it makes being her whore easier to bear."

I blinked. "It does?" I didn't see why it would—I'd felt his revulsion for myself. The mating bond made the act feel like a betrayal to me on top of being a violation. If anything, I'd thought it would be more difficult now.

"Knowing I've done something for you…it almost makes me believe I don't deserve what she does to me."

It might have been the most honest he'd ever been with me. I reached for him, but Rhys moved away faster than I could follow. He cast a significant look at the half-finished bowl of soup, a clear wordless order for me to finish before it got cold. I shot him a glare but didn't push, just continued eating.

We went quiet again, and I tried not to think about what it meant that we were communicating silently without even needing the bond.

Instead, I focused on finishing the soup as quickly as possible, so that Rhys would stop watching me as if there were nothing more important in the world. I didn't know how to handle it.

Not when it was a reflection of what I felt, too.

When I finished, I pushed the bowl aside but didn't approach him, as much as I wanted to. I wasn't sure it would be welcome. And more importantly, we might not have much time before he had to leave again. I spoke slowly and tried to choose my words carefully as I said, "If she doesn't expect you to stay long after it's over, come back down here. Wake me up if you need to. Or use the bond. You shouldn't be alone."

That was the worst part of being confined down here—Rhys could winnow in and help me on occasion, but I was trapped. More than ever, I understood just how his family felt about being unable to leave Velaris. I held onto that rage and frustration and hoped it would be enough to keep me from feeling empty again.

"I'll try," Rhys said, and it was the best I could hope for.

He waved a hand, making the empty bowl disappear, and stood. I got to my feet, understanding this was goodbye again. He couldn't linger when the role he played demanded that he'd be ready, waiting, and eager for Amarantha. I got to my feet.

Before I could say anything, he pulled me to him. Crushed against his chest, I felt his breath hitch. Being this close was like untangling a knot in the string connecting us. I hugged him back tightly.

But it couldn't last forever, and he stepped away all too soon. There was nothing to say, just an understanding that passed between us before he winnowed away. I managed to hold back my tears until he was gone.

And then I finally cried, and Rhys was the reason I was able to feel enough to do it.

I drifted off at some point, an attempt to get some rest before the inevitable nightmare ripped me from sleep. But it was a frantic pull on the bond that had me jerking awake and clutching my chest. Rhys's voice was in my head before I could ask what was wrong.

Change of plans. I'll explain later. In the meantime, do not drink anything unless it's been handed to you by me personally. And Feyre…I am so, so sorry.

[tea-moon-ster]

Punk librarian Finn

forgot about this one! have a Logan simping for a librarian Finn with tattoos and piercings. all characters belong to the wonderful @lumosinlove except for Lucy.

Logan stopped in front of the public library of their new neighborhood and just looked at it. It wasn’t a pretty building, grey and with fading letters on the front. But Logan now knew that it hid a lovely garden, soft armchairs, and the most handsome librarian he’d ever seen.

Finn was…funny. Smart. Beautiful. Probably too loud to work in a library. Most certainly Logan’s second husband.

It had been Leo to present them, two weeks ago, which made it all even better. He’d come home to their -their!- new apartment two hours after he’d left to explore the area, with too many books for his tote bag and arms. Blue eyes wide in shock and awe. Darling. Me. You. Library, tomorrow morning. Hot librarian. A deep breath, eyes closed. Knuckles tattoos.

So, the next day, they went. And that night, as they ate their dinner on the floor, they talked about Finn, and his smile, and freckles, and tattoos on his knuckles and forearms. Suspenders had never been sexier. Leo and Logan talked and talked and talked, holding hands as they stared at the freshly painted ceiling. They decided, around never enough kisses and smiles, that they wanted Finn. They’d try.

And that’s how the wonder of discovering a new, shared life with Leo had mixed with the magic of Finn being Finn. It was a casual, polite flirt, that Finn could get out of if the interest wasn’t there. But he wasn’t exactly backing out, making Logan snort-smile and filling Leo with books that, as the blond stated, were gay and bi declarations of love, Logan. “The picture of Dorian Grey”. “Orlando”. “Maurice”. “Love you two”.

So, Leo and Logan started visiting the library more often as the days went by. And the joys of living with Leo and getting to know Finn were second only to the electric wave of seeing them together. Logan felt invincible.

But today it was just him. Him and the muffins Leo had deposited in his hands as he got ready for his college classes. Go and make him fall with you and my banana muffins. Neither of you is hard to love, sugar.

And so, there Logan stood. Muffins in his hands and indulging on the library’s front door. Finn had mentioned a storytelling event a few days ago, and Logan just knew he had to go in there and listen to Finn’s sweet, smiling voice read something to him. And to other people, too, he guessed, but he’d pretend it was just for him. And maybe they could share the muffins later, and discuss whatever Finn had in mind.

Logan hoped that one day he’d get to say, and the rest is history.

With a deep breath, he finally stepped into the library. Finn wasn’t at the counter to welcome him with a flashing smile, and so Logan walked to the back of the building. From a closed room, he heard laughter, and one among all drew him towards the door. What he found inside was…well, unexpected.

The first thing he saw was Finn, of course. His smile was blinding, and his red mullet was styled in soft curls that day. He was wearing a pink and green jumper, with the sleeves rolled up -merci, mon Dieu, Logan thought. He needed the sight of those freckled, tattooed hands and arms. Finn beamed and waved at him, getting up from his impossibly small chair and making his way to him, careful to the many kids sitting on the floor.

Because the room was filled with kids.

It did make sense, Logan thought as he mentally kicked himself. Storytelling. The room was colorful, filled with toys and all kinds of chairs and pillows thrown around. A few parents were chatting in a corner. What was Logan thinking? What exactly had he pictured in his head, except for a Hot Finn lustily reading love poems in a candlelit room?

Logan wanted to disappear.

But Finn was now in front of him, and he looked excited. He didn’t seem to mind the chaos created by kids around them. Logan lost himself in between his smile and the silver nose ring that almost touched it.

“Logan! What a nice surprise, I didn’t expect to see you this afternoon! But come in!”

Logan felt himself blush as he stepped inside. “Er, hi. I thought I’d drop by to say hi. Hi.”

Finn’s smile grew. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds. When Logan realized he should have said something, a little sniff came from the floor.

“Mister Finn?” They both looked down, where a little girl was clutching Finn’s pants with big, shy eyes. “Will you, will you do the voices like last time?”

“Why else would I be here for, Lucy?” Finn answered with a wink that made the kid giggle and throttle back to her seat. Logan couldn’t hold his hearth from the little jump it made at that. They watched her for a moment before Finn let out a small laugh.

“So, er, yeah. I do Storytelling for kids on Fridays? It’s okay if you don’t want to stay.”

Logan found himself shaking his head before he knew what to say. “No, I want to. If it’s alright. I, huh, I like kids.”

Something sparkled in Finn’s eyes. “Do you?”

“Ouais. Oh, and—here. Leo made these for you. They’re—”

“Banana muffins,” Finn gasped as he took the box from Logan’s hands. He passed a reverent finger on top of it, and Logan found himself staring at the letters and flowers that covered his hands. A sweet, freckled smile was growing more and more.

“I mentioned last time that I don’t like chocolate and that these are my favorites and he—okay. Oh God. Wow. Well, you say thank you from me to him, yeah? Aw, man, he’s the best.”

“He really is.”

Logan saw Finn looking for something in his eyes, anything that could have passed as jealousy or possessiveness. But he soon relaxed into them and nodded. “Yeah.” He then turned to study the room full of kids and parents, a hand going to his hip. “So, will you help me do the voices?”

“I-quoi?”

“Please? It won’t be embarrassing, it’s just kids and they want to have fun. They’re great, I promise.”

“But I’ve never—and I’m not that good at reading aloud, especially in English, Leo usually—”

“I know, I know.” A hand squeezed his shoulder. “Nothing you don’t wanna do, of course. But it could be fun? You can try and see how it goes. Or you can sit in the back—or next to me, really. You decide.”

Finn’s expression was open, and calm, and serene. Logan knew he would be alright even without his words. He tried with a smile. “Leo won’t believe it.”

Finn grinned back. “He’ll be shocked.”

“Then let’s go.”

Logan accepted Finn’s hand as he was guided across the room, careful to all the kids on the floor, ready for the show to start. Logan felt a similar kind of anticipation as he squeezed back. A new part of his own story was about to begin, after all. Hopefully, Finn would be there to write it with him and Leo. Doing the voices and all.

[hemeruni]

Restless

Summary: An overworked fox finds comfort in someone she would’ve never expected… AT NIGHT!!!

Parings: Hemeruni (Hem/Uni)

A/N: So it’s been a bit, huh? Seriously I haven’t been doing so hot as of late, so I decided to finally sit down and get this piece of fiction sent out for… god knows who. When you want something, it’s best that you do it yourself.

Before Reading: This is my first time really WRITING something like this, so I hope the characters don’t seem TOO out of character, Uni is probably written off… and Hemera doesn’t really have that much dialogue… but I hope you enjoy it!!

Hemera is commonly known by her peers as 'busy.' It’s rare to ever see her doing anything in her off time besides her usual routine of garden work. This behavior stretches all the way into the late hours of early morning, as she works away at splicing new hybrids. It’s what makes her happy at the end of the day, so it’s wrong to assume that this behavior is a bad thing.

Tonight isn’t any different however, as she continues to use her few somewhat peaceful hours to work on her passion. That nightly silence would grind to a halt, as the sound of a few knocks ring at her door. The fennec is confused, but she brushes it off as a simple mind trick. After another minute the knocks would continue, only then she would hear a familiar voice from the opposite side-

"Hey, bro! I was wondering if you were still up for some local Co-Op!"

Their pattern of speech, the usage of the word 'bro', it could only be one person… Uni.

"I know that late hour exp grinding isn’t your cup of tea, bro. But we haven’t had a good bro-on-bro conversation in a good while!"

The fox would walk closer to the door, hesitant to let the dogcorn in. She’s right, they really haven’t hung out as 'friends' for a good while now, but the suddenness of it all worries her. Her mind drifts off, knowing that whatever actions she chooses next may lead to some kind of bad omen. But, with a heavy sigh, she unlocks the door, choosing to be a good friend rather than worrying about their safety.

Hem opens the door, greeting the dogcorn on the other side.

"…Surely what you want is important, but the timing of this interaction could’ve been… better, to say the least."

"Well, bro, I didn’t think you’d be afk long enough for a dialogue exchange if I asked during the morning. So… is that a yes on the side quest?"

Now that Hemera had a clear visual of Uni, it seemed that her somewhat composed structure has mysteriously disappeared. It was awkward, and it seems like both of them knew this. Instead of mustering up a response, Hem would simply nod her head, as she would usher the puppycorn into her room.

————————————

Awkward silence flooded into the room as the two sat down. It seemed like the planned 'side quest' wasn’t properly thought out by the Dogcorn, which only made her even more nervous. It wasn’t like her to do something of this caliber, but the real reason she was here was eating away at her. She begins to speak, preparing for what potentially could come next.

"So uh, bro, I don’t know how to explain this without some sort of strategy guide, but I’ve been… uh… fuck, bro-"

The dogcorns gamer lingo was bleeding more and more into her speech patterns as she spoke, but what Hemera really took note of was her horn… it had changed.

"Well, bro, recently I’ve been seeing you as… more than a bro, bro. You’ve made some challenging levels a whole lot easier bro, like some sort of Game Genie. So, bro… I was wondering if… you wanna squad up sometime… as something more?"

What felt like an awkward silence slowly became a comforting feeling, as the fox quickly pulled the dogcorn into a hug, a sign that the feelings were mutual between the two. It was a rare sight, but for what felt like a long while… The fox had something to smile about.

The hug felt like a lifetime had passed between the two. What made the night even special for the dogcorn however was the direct aftermath-

Hemera had fallen asleep in her arms.

(A/N: Yeah! Of course it was kinda short, and yes this wasn’t the original concept for the story, but I finally had enough motivation to at least push THIS out! Once again, sorry if this isn’t the greatest, but I do hope you find some enjoyment out of it!!!)

[dyns33]

The Ending

Last Morpheus x Hob!Reader. A bit hard to read, and with spoilers from the comics, careful. 

Y/N Y/L/N couldn't die.

Not if she didn't want to.

Lord Morpheus repeated this to himself over and over as he continued to search for her everywhere. He refused to think that his sister might have changed her mind or that his immortal lover might have decided to leave without telling him.

Something else must have happened, and though it might be horrible, Dream told himself that he would find her, that she would be alive, and that he would help her get better, for as long as necessary.

She had told him about her long life, he had seen some of her nightmares. Y/N had experienced a lot of things, she was strong, smart. Everything would end well.

Her disappearance dated back to a few days now. If he hadn't learned to control his rage, Lord Morpheus would have punished Johanna Constantine for causing all this trouble. She had come to seek the help of Y/N and Hob for a dangerous mission, thinking that it would be better to be accompanied by people who could not die.

There are fates worse than death, Dream had once told Robert. You can be injured or captured.

It had happened to him soon after, like a premonition, and now Y/N might be stuck somewhere. Maybe she was being tortured, and if he didn't move fast enough, if she lost hope, then she might call his sister to end her suffering.

But no, she couldn't die, he refused that.

Despite his best efforts, traveling the waking world and dreams, dispatching Matthew and his most loyal subjects, he was unable to find her.

The Hecate didn't give him any help, answering with riddles and mocking him. Lost, he did something he hadn't even thought of doing when he was captured : he called his family. It wasn't as helpful as he would have hoped.

As always, Destiny couldn't do anything, saying whatever was supposed to happen would happen. 

Death only reassured him, promising him that Y/N had not contacted her, and that if she did, she would take him with her to save his beloved. She looked strange, but said nothing. 

Destruction didn't answer.

 The twins were a little surprised by his request, savoring this moment, happy to see him so weak in their domains, desperate and in love.

     "We'd be willing to help you just because we pity you and you finally seem to realize you're no better than us..." Desire began.

     "... But we can't do anything for you. An ancient magic seems to have taken your lover." continued Despair. "She's too far from us. Sorry."

It was out of sheer politeness, knowing how susceptible she could be, that Dream went to Delirium. Poor Delirium, his youngest sister would probably not achieve more than the others had already done.

She jumped up when she saw him, saying that she had missed him, before saying a lot of nonsense, but listening all the same to the reason for his coming. Delirium looked serious for a moment, thinking hard, before jumping up again.

     "I dON't KnOw wheRe Y/N Is. BUt I knOw whO I CAn Ask !"

     "Come find me if your friend brings news." sighed Morpheus who wasn't really listening.

     "He'S nOt MY fRIenD, BUt OkAY !"

A few hours later, someone showed up at the gate of the realm, and Matthew flew as quickly as possible to his master to tell him that Y/N had returned.

In an instant, Dream appeared beside her, hugging her, asking her if she was hurt, wiping the tears from her cheeks, touching her bloody hands.

     "... I'm fine." she whispered without looking at him.

     "Obviously not. If those who hurt you are not dead yet, I will find them and lock them in an eternal nightmare."

     "Forget it, Morpheus. I don't want to talk about it."

     "I cannot leave unpunished those who have dared..."

     "Nobody hurt me." Y/N said more firmly, but still avoiding his gaze. "It's not my blood. I lost myself, in limbos. It was impossible to find my way, I was alone, and I was afraid of arriving in hell, or of dying without doing it on purpose. Then he... I do not want to talk about it."

     "He ? Who is he ?"

Y/N initially refused to answer, continuing to cry, before falling to her knees and beginning to ask his forgiveness, as if she had committed a crime. The pleas came next, her love saying that she would understand that he hated her, that he never wanted to see her again, but that she had no choice. She was shaking, as if she was afraid of him.

     "He asked me... He was so tired, so kind. His voice... His voice..." she sobbed, taking Morpheus's hands. "He had such a beautiful voice."

Then Dream understood. And after having focused his attention only on Y/N, he contemplated the universe and whispered the name of his son who was no longer there. That was what his sister had hidden from him. What his brother had meant.

Y/N was alive, and Orpheus was dead.

Delirium had had the idea of going to ask her nephew for help. She had never thought of it before, but he was a oracle, so he knew everything, and he didn't have to keep quiet like their big brother. She wanted to ask him where her dear other brother Destruction was, but Orpheus had smiled, saying that his uncle didn't want to be found, that there was more important matters to deal with at the moment, and that he wouldn't be here afterwards.

Using his link with the Limbos where he had lost Eurycype, he had found Y/N and he had guided her to the exit. He had, however, asked her for a favor.

     "He said he wanted to join his wife. He couldn't stay like that anymore. He was already dead, or almost. He was staying for his mother, and you, even if he was convinced that you didn't love him anymore and that you would never come back to see him. He would have wanted to see you, and at the same time, he was afraid. Afraid that you would reject him, or that you would accept his request. He knew the rules, he knew what he would happen to you if you released him, so... He asked me. I didn't want to do it. I said there had to be a solution. I didn't want you to hate me."

     "My love..."

     "He said it would be fine. That you would understand. He sang to calm me down. A lullaby you made for him. It was beautiful. Oh, Morpheus, it was beautiful. Forgive me."

Unable to speak, he took her in his arms. His son was right, he didn't hate Y/N. He would never hate her, he was glad she was back, that she wasn't hurt. Yes, Orpheus was long dead, though none of them wanted to accept it.

     "My love..." he whispered again, continuing to rock her, trying to calm her crying, as he had done with this little baby that Calliope had given him. "There is nothing to forgive. You granted his wish, you did nothing wrong. You gave my child peace, something I could never have done. I wanted him to live, I was not here for him. At least he's with his wife now. He's happy."

Y/N continued to cry and apologize for several hours, hugging him and letting him kiss her until she was too exhausted to move.

It was not necessary to warn anyone. Once his partner was calmer, although still feeling guilty despite all his reassuring words, the family came.

Morpheus was afraid that they would be violent towards Y/N, that they would insult her, curse her, try to kill her.

The meeting was very strange.

Destiny didn't speak much, only repeating that what had to happen had happened. He quickly added that the other option would have been difficult, for everyone. Death hugged his brother, then Y/N, without saying anything, because it was not necessary. Destruction did not come.

The three youngest were the most surprising. Very serious, very solemn. Despair offered her condolences. Delirium apologized if she had made a mistake. Desire remained in a corner. It wasn't time for teasing, but none of them were mad at Y/N. Their nephew had been on the borders of their domains for too long, it was good that he was free.

Calliope arrived last, calm and serene, but with tears streaming down her cheeks. By stupid reflex, Morpheus stood in front of Y/N, but the muse smiled sadly at him, before passing and taking his companion's hand.

     "Thank you." she said. "Thank you for helping my son."

Not considering that she had helped him, Y/N just nodded trying not to cry again. She couldn't, and Morpheus took her back to their room as soon as everyone had left.

Of course, there remained the dreams and nightmares, curious and worried, who wanted to check that everything was alright for their creator, but also for his lover. They all adored Y/N, they didn't like to see her so sad, but above all, they wondered if their master might not blame her for what had happened.

     "I do not understand what you mean."

     "Well... She... She killed your son, boss." muttered the raven as if he had just said an insult. "Yeah, he asked her, and she's sorry, and I understand, but… You might be upset, and angry."

     "I am not."

     "Not even a little ?"

     "I'm not saying that the loss of my son doesn't cause me any pain. But Y/N is safe and sound thanks to him, and I've only felt joy since her return." he said, stroking the hair of the immortal, who was starting to wake up. "Excuse me, Matthew, but I don't want to leave her alone during this moment. I'll join her in the Waking World, tell Lucienne to watch over the realm while I'm gone."

     "Yes, boss. I'm sorry."

     "Don't be. If anyone is responsible, it's me. I had minimized my son's suffering. If Y/N had died today... Maybe I would have gone to hell for her. My sister would have laughed at me, saying that I was selfish. I could have helped him, I didn't. My brother is right, things happened as they were supposed to , and now I have to follow my own advice. Accept that he's gone, and savor every moment with Y/N, my Y/N, that he brought back to me."

The raven refrained from answering. He wasn't really satisfied, but he couldn't do anything. It wasn't a nice ending, like in the fairy tales, but it wasn't a bad ending either. Life like stories, their master well knew, did not always have happy endings. They had endings. And if in his Y/N was at his side, that was enough.

[monpalace]

@july-angel-wings

full disclosure, i haven't touched skyward sword or first's story ever in my life aside from secondhand fanfic knowledge and tauberpa's abridged vids more than 8yrs ago,, 😁

(this turned into informal general romantic hcs with first im sorry 🗿)

anyways, i imagine first would be more than apprehensive when it comes to you rescuing him. out of survival instincts, he doesn't know how you managed to find him? how'd you break in? why were you here in the first place? were you someone else who had been imprisoned, or did you want him for your own purposes?

he's thankful, don't get him wrong, but a man questions all intentions once you've put poison in his food, even the hand that heals.

following his rescue (and the establishment that you were friend and not foe), first would likely be more open to you assisting him in his goddess-given duty. most certainly to the point that there are no secrets between you.

time would feel as though it went in the blink of an eye when it came to defeating demise— and, in a sense, it did. it could have been months, or weeks, or hours, or seconds, and he wouldn't know any better.

first wouldn't be ashamed to admit that he's romantically interested in you. he'd be normal about courting you after he grows out of the "crush formed via trauma-bond" phase and evolves into the "okay, yeah, i actually like-like you" phase.

but me, personally? i think he's really fucking stupid and doesn't know how to properly court someone. i think he's seen people court each other to many times to count in his home village, but he doesn't have fond memories of the village so it kind of murks and muddles everything to the point he's confident enough to say "yeah, that wouldn't work at all."

assuming this is first after his character development, i feel he wouldn't be ashamed to act like his old self if that makes sense? like, less of a seasoned veteran and more of just some guy on the side of the road you drive past.

pushing my "most links are illiterate" agenda to say that link courts you by asking you to read to him, sometimes teach him if he's confident enough. he says it's because he likes watching you become so invested in the story if it's good enough (and hearing your voice if you're able to speak).

uhhh,, this is where my bullshitting abt skyward sword lore comes in,,

anyways, i imagine first is able to travel between skyloft and the ground using the ancient equivalent of a skywing made specifically for him by hylia because 1.) triforce of courage, hylia's chosen hero, and protector of skyloft be damned, he is afraid of heights and 2.) he already built a house for you and him he's not moving it.

yeah, that last part was def a surprise to you.

"why don't you want to go live on skyloft permanently again?"

"we already have a three bedroom, four and a half bathroom, full kitchen, full dining room house with an entire backyard and amazing view waiting for us? why would we want to live there?"

"we?"

"🧍🏼idk what you want me to say.. it's kind of like a gift? you didn't notice how i've been disappearing the last few months?"

"i thought you were out taking care of monsters?"

"i mean, yeah? i was taking bounties so i could work up enough funds to get the stuff to make an engagement ring?"

"who are you proposing to?"

"you? who else do i tolerate enough at this point of our lives? we can turn the house into a honeymoon spot, or a vacation house if you want?"

iirc after everyone and their mother moved up to skyloft, monsters started spawning more often and dangerously, so i dont think first would mind putting in more of an effort to protect you if they were to surround the house— but i also don't think that he'd be dumb enough to not make protective measures like a gate n whatnot.

(i'm being so fr when i say he probably dug out a moat.)

anyways, yh no first is def happy to surround himself with you and whatever animal companion y'all managed to find like you're in "i am legend" or whatever.

let me stop 🗿

[cookiesncreamlover17]

Yandere!Damian Wayne x Reader Pt. 14

⚠️Warnings⚠️: Mention if death. Kidnapping, Threatening, and Injury From Possible Concussion

🇺🇸Word Count🇺🇸: 1,637

👾Characters👾: 8,636

Eight hours. What was suppose to take five hours at MAXIMUM took eight fucking hours. You could never get those eight hours back. Damian had probably been wondering were you were. Would if he thought you were dead? Well now you knew that wasn’t the case when he saw you again and hugged you through the entire night. Tomorrow was the last day. You had one more day till it was all over. One more day till you might be dead. Tomorrow would be day 7. The final day. You needed to know who this person was. Though, you did learn that the man who might rob you of your life was named Grayson. Dick, Grayson. And that’s exactly why he went on your list tonight. And tomorrow Cass or Steph might be your last guess.

##############################

Fuck. That’s the only word you could think of. One guess. That’s all you had left. That guess would determine whether you lived or died this night. You couldn’t do it. There was about a thousand kids in this school and it could be any one of them. You couldn’t escape your death bed. But maybe you didn’t have to. Maybe you needed to escape the execution. Running came to your mind, but they would never let you leave. This was the end. You knew it. Today was the day you were going to die.

Deaths main goal is to make whatever it’s out for to disappear. You weren’t ready to go. You were only fifteen for fucks sake! What about college or your family or your friends?! That was all going to go away. You weren’t ready. You. Weren’t. Ready. If you weren’t ready, you weren’t going to do it. Death wasn’t going to take you. You had a plan. Kill or get killed. It wasn’t your time to go. You needed to kill whoever this was before they killed you. And you had a few plans in mind.

It was simple. You needed to stay in your room the entire time. No one comes in, no one comes out. You had all the safe food with you. You had safe cameras. You had weapons. You had everything you needed. You would survive this night. You weren’t going to die from murder. You were going to die as an old lady in her warm bed. Today was not the day. Though, a sudden knock woke you right out of your motivational thought. As you neared your dorm door a letter stared up at you from your dark red carpet. A letter? Who would send you a letter.

You hesitantly went to go pick it up. What if it was a bomb? No, it couldn’t be. Bombs would bulge out of the envelope. Maybe this was a hand written letter. As you opened it, your face turned pale right as your began to read the first words.

Dear my beloved,

Greetings again. You didn’t really think I would just give up on you, did you? Now, now, there’s no need to panic. I’ve told you before I’m not going to harm you. When you accuse me of these things it hurts N/n. I thought you would be smarter than this. My goal is to bring you home. With me and your brothers and sisters. I’m not going to kill you. I suggest you stop hiding in your room all day and come out. You’ve got one guess. But I thought maybe I could make this more interesting. Survive. If you can successfully keep me from you all night, if you guess incorrectly on your last guess, then I’ll let you go. But if you lose….. you come home with me! I’ll see you soon Y/n.

Sincerely,

Your secret admirer

No, no, no, no, no. It wasn’t suppose to end like this. How did he know?! It wasn’t like he was watching you from cameras or something, right? Right? This couldn’t be happening, but it was happening. This wasn’t a dream, this was real life. And it was happening to you in the broad daylight. But, maybe, just maybe, this was a good thing. You just had to survive. Katniss Everdeen survived the hunger games with a bunch of savages. She used her brain. You had a brain. You could do this. You might be able to see your friends and family again. You might be able to see Damian again. Speaking of Damian, you had shut him out all day. It wasn’t good for him to be near you. Whoever was sending you these letters was clearly dangerous in some sort of way.

You picked up the letter and plucked a hair strand from your head and put it into the envelope. People would need to know that you were here. They might even have officers involved to send an investigation for you. Then, it hit you. Officers. What were officers? People. What do people do? Help. Where could you find multiple people? A crowd. A crowd! That’s it! That’s all you needed! This person couldn’t take you if so many people were around! But there was only one problem. What event was happening today? A sunset! People would be there! It might not be a lot, but people would still be there. Maybe, just maybe, you could have people stay with you till it reaches midnight. That would being your get away. You just needed it to work.

The day awaited. The door being taped shut. Your computer being opened with you typing ways to lock yourself inside of your room. Studying what time the sunset would start. You were going to pull this off. That was what you thought as you walked town the hall way. You were prepared. You had two knives in both of your pockets and you had pepper spray inside of your small bag. You just needed to sit and watch.

The air had a nice breeze. It may have been near the end of April, but it still felt lovely on your skin. You couldn’t remember the last time you sat down to look at a sunset. If you had to die, you couldn’t wish for it to be any different than watching a beautiful sunset.

As you sat down on the gray, lumpy rock, you felt another presence sit beside you. You tilted your head and, too your surprise, Damian sat their. He was watching the sunset with that same cold glare you’d grown use to. God, was he probably pissed off.

“Why were you ignoring my texts and calls”, he crumpled out. Yup, he was definitely pissed.

“He’s coming after me Damian. It-it wasn’t safe for you to be around me. Not when he could jump out at any place”, you said miserably. You didn’t want to die with him angry at you. You wanted to kiss him. It might be your last kiss, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“So you decided to come out here? In public. He could also grab you from anywhere you know. It quite stupid, Y/n. I thought you were smarter than this”.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want things to end this way. I couldn’t- I couldn’t live with myself if my final moments would be with you hating me. Please”, you said as a tear escape your eye. You were going to die. You knew it. It scared you. Who wouldn’t be scared? It was the unknown, which most people seem to be afraid of.

“I’m not mad. I just want to help you, Y/n. I can’t- I can’t loose you. You’re the only thing I fucking have. Without you, I’d honestly go mad. You can’t leave me. I wouldn’t even let you”, he said with a smile creeping up onto his face. You’re rarely saw him smile. God was he just adorable. What would you do without him.

As you two watched the sunset you could only begin to remember. You remember watching the sunset on your first day here with Steph. You were going to miss it. All of what you’ve learned paid off. You would never forget these moments as your life would slip away from you.

The thing is, you knew you were going to die. It didn’t matter if they killed you or not. You would rather live dead and free than be imprisoned in some unfamiliar place. It would be your choice. Someway, somehow, you would escape one way or another. Whether you lived was the question.

As you walked back to your dorm, Damian began to speak. “I’m going to go grab something from my room. Put the note in your locker and then go back to your dorm straight after. ……. Y/n, we’ve got this. We can do this. I’ll be with you the entire time”, he said as he rubbed your arm up and down in a soothing motion.

You smiled at him before you both turned around to continue your adventure. As you neared your navy blue locker, you put the note inside that read “Stephanie Brown”. Your last guess.

As you walked back to your dorm you could only begin to realize something was horribly wrong. The pepper spray and your hand was tightened by your fingers. As you neared your dorm you could feel that feeling increase. You walked inside of your room feeling off. You looked under your bed, in your closets, and out of your window. Though, you forgot one thing. Behind you. The loud sound of a boom entered your ears. Looking up after you’d fallen down from impact you saw someone staring down at you. It was none other than, Stephanie? “I’ll see you soon, Y/n”, she said as she hit your head one more time with the object she was holding. As you collapsed you were unable to process what was happening. Maybe you’d understand tomorrow. Or maybe in the next few years.

Written: Wednesday, September 20, 2023

[sizzleissues]

Ladrien day 27 - Autograph

Read here on ao3

“You can have your signature, kitty-.” His ears perked up. “-If you catch me when you're civilian you.”

Or under the cut

Chat Noir was suspiciously quiet as they lazied atop the Eiffel Tower. Something had been bothering him since they met up but it wasn’t anything she could figure out from his lingering stares and solemn expression. Whatever it was she’d rather he’d spit it out then let it weigh on him like this.

“Go on, you want to say something.” 

She put the offer out there but didn’t expect an answer. It was much too hot and much too late to muster more than passing concern. She’d review this conversation in the morning when her anxious mind replayed every word to search for the rotten apple. 

“Would you-.” He cut himself off, sinking beside her.

“Yes?”

“Would you sign something for me?”

She waited expectantly for more, that can’t have been everything but no, it really was. Chat Noir stared at her with wide hopeful eyes and a rising excitement.

She probably shouldn’t have laughed. Forgive her, it was 3am, beyond past normal Marinette functioning hours. 

“Really? That’s it!”

“Uh-.”

“You made me worried there for a second.” She slapped his arm playfully, her laugh fading to a grin. 

“So will you?”

“Why? Autographs are for fans. You’re not a fan, you’re my partner. I think that’s better than a measly signature.”

“Civilian me is a fan though! Even my best friend who’s more of a Chat Noir fan has your signature, it’s getting embarrassing at this point.”

He was genuine then. Marinette chewed her lip, looking down at Paris as she tried to think. There wouldn’t be any harm to giving him a signature. If he promised never to show it to anyone or post it at risk of her recognising outside of costume- no, she couldn’t give it to him like this. She couldn’t know who she was signing it for.

“You can have your signature, kitty-.” His ears perked up. “-If you catch me when you're civilian you. I’ll stick around after the next few battles. Just don’t make it obvious.”

“Really? This is great. So great!”

Marinette nodded along, feeling a touch of concern as he spent the rest of the night even more distant. At least it was a happy kind? That was good, right?

—-<0>---

The next few battles had Marinette searching every crowd afterwards for someone vaguely Chat Noir shaped. She knew she shouldn’t, she didn’t want to know his identity but curiosity got the best of her. Chat Noir stayed tight-lipped on whether he’d gotten the autograph yet and she couldn’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach that she’d missed him. 

She squashed those feelings down and eventually her eyes stayed strictly on the fan in front of her, not ahead looking for blond and green. The brief flirtation with the possibility of figuring out his identity had only been interesting because of the danger it brought. She’d confused those feelings for intrigue and not fear, a definitely easy mistake to make. That was all safely behind her now.

So when Chat Noir disappeared moments after fist bumping her she didn’t even notice. There was the akuma victim to comfort and the press to shake off and the fans to satiate. A missing stray didn’t even cross her ray-dar.

“Will I grow up to be as cool as you?” A little girl asked, her adorable cheeks squished up in a huge gap-toothed smile. She gripped a ladybug doll in her hands but her eyes were entirely captivated by the real thing. Marinette kneeled down so they were the same height and held a hand out to her.

The girl tentatively reached for it, her eyes like stars as she touched her palm. Marinette smiled warmly, clasping the girl’s hand in her’s.

“You’ll grow up to be even cooler. I don’t have half as beautiful a smile as you.”

After a hug and photo she toddled after her grateful mother. Marinette’s gaze shifted from the girl to the pair of legs now in the spot in front of her. She had to crane her head back to look up at him, the sun silhouetting his body. It created a hazy halo-like effect around his face where she could only see a brilliant smile. 

“Do I get to be as cool as you when I grow up?”

That voice. So familiar yet just slightly not right. Not enough that a face sprang to mind but just enough she knew something should be happening in her brain besides slight embarrassment of still being crouched down. 

“Well maybe if- Adrien!” She squeaked. 

Adrien blushed, which was strange, as she stared at him. How could she not notice him approaching? She’d been too busy with the girl- This was a disaster. 

“That’s me?”

“Ohmygod- Sorry! I just wasn’t expecting you. But why would I expect you? I’m Ladybug, I’m really cool.” The word vomit spewing out her mouth didn’t seem to be off-putting to him but still she nearly sunk back to the ground to hide her shame. Ladybug didn’t stutter. She was cool. She shot finger guns.

Why was she shooting finger guns at him right now?

“Sorry if I’m bothering you- I just wanted to ask for an autograph.” He averted his gaze, scratching the back of his neck absently, yet she couldn’t understand why. He was Adrien, he- he was a huge fan of Ladybug. With an insane Ladybug wall to rival her Adrien one. Ladybug, who was also Marinette. But he didn’t know that.

“You’re not bothering me!”

“Oh?”

“In fact, I want to ask you for your autograph. In exchange for mine.”

She smiled, holding out the pen she’d been using to him. Adrien stared at it like it was a live snake before taking it from her hand.

“What do you want me to sign?”

That was a slight flaw in her plan. She had a matter of moments before he realised it too. 

“Here.” She pointed to her cheek, turning her head to the side so he could get a better angle. 

She tried not to catch his eyes as he leaned forward. That level of intimacy would have sent her straight to A&E. If she wasn’t totally insane she got the distinct impression Adrien’s heart was beating as quickly as her’s. He made the signing quick, snapping back straight once the pen left her cheek. 

“Does it look good?” She asked as she faced him again. She already knew what it looked like, this was not her first Adrien autograph.

His gaze was unfocused and he buffered, if that was even possible for a human to do, before answering. 

“Y- yep! So good.” His voice uncharacteristically strained.

“Coolio. Now, where do you want me to sign?” She forced herself to smile brightly and try not to think about the fact she asked Adrien to write on her face and he didn’t bat an eye. 

“Not on my chest! I want you to sign somewhere normal. Like my face- I mean this picture.”

He held out the pen and a framed photo of herself from a couple months back that had gone viral on the Ladyblog. 

Their hands brushed for the slightest of moments as she reached to take the pen, something electric shooting through her body. Adrien squeaked like a trodden on mouse and jumped back, dropping the pen in the process. 

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, I'm sorry!”

Adrien ducked down at the same time she did, their heads knocking together. Tiny stars exploded in her vision, though she couldn’t tell if it was from bumping her head or the sheer embarrassment nearly causing her to pass out. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” Adrien said, his face stricken with worry. 

“No, I should be sorry. Is your forehead okay?”

“I’m fine and don’t apologise! I dropped it, I should pick it up.”

“No, but really-.”

“Don’t even.” He held a hand up to stop her and bent down to pick up the pen. 

Marinette giggled as she tried to take it again. This time she made sure their fingers didn’t even so much as brush off each other. 

“I’ll have to make this extra special.” She said,

“You don’t have to-.”

“I’m your biggest fan too, I can’t leave you with a subpar signature.”

“Oh.” His face flushed a shade to match the setting sun. 

She signed the photo, adding a heart at the end. Adrien beamed down at it once she’d finished. 

“Love, Ladybug?” He parroted back what she’d written.

“Reserved for very special people.” She winked, surprising even herself. Adrien cradled the photo close to his heart, hesitantly looking up to meet her eyes. 

She would do anything for him to look at her like this when she wasn’t in spots. 

Adrien didn’t move and she thought for a second he was about to say something important, something that had threatened to spill out of him since their first interaction. Instead he said this;

“I think this pen is permanent. Will it come off your cheek?”

Her eyes grew wide.

“Sure it will, plus it’ll probably disappear after I detransform.”

It didn’t. 

–—-<0>-----

“So did you ever get the autograph?”

It was in the middle of an akuma battle that she’d even remembered the deal she’d made. Chat Noir paused, his eyes flicking to her cheek for the briefest of moments. It was easily brushed off as an innocent glance and she hadn’t been looking anyway.

“I did.”

She smiled. Even though she had no idea who he’d been, the fact the entire deal had led to talking to Adrien made it worth it. 

“Was it worth it?”

Chat didn’t answer for a second, dodging a well aimed blast from the akuma. Within moments he was back at her side. 

“I’d do it again a thousand times.”

She laughed, zipping away from another blast. “Don’t actually, I might start to recognise you.”

“I have a feeling that you wouldn’t even be able to tell.”

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Mona with a reader that's bluntly honest

characters: Mona x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: I know, I know. Me posting two days in a row has somehow become even rarer than a solar eclipse. But don't worry, this is still me, I didn't get replaced by a motivated, efficient writing robot yet.

This wasn't requested, I played Mona's story quest again and wanted to write for her, so yeah.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Mona

Mona may have been a great astrologer, never failing to surprise you with her research and prediction. But while she tended to be a bit too direct and honest the couple of times, she actually read other people’s fates, causing them to walk away way more bummed or annoyed than they had to be, most of her honesty vanished the moment the discussion shifted to any subject that she deemed to undermine her honour as the “greatest Astrologer in the whole of Teyvat”.

And while your— sometimes brutal—honesty made it so that Mona didn’t have to use her astrology on you in any way, she definitely wouldn’t mind you using a white lie every now and again.

Mona and you had been working on her research for what felt like hours now, and while you ought to have been tired by now, your unpaid work with the astrologist had made it so you sadly were used to it. You weren’t sure why the great Mona Megistus decided to pick you as her discipline when you didn’t have any astrology-related experience and weren’t even interested in the first place, but if you had to guess, it was probably your willingness to pay for her food, even if she’d never admit it, choosing instead to name your “potential” as her reason.

“Shouldn’t me take a break? I’m not sure if working for so long without one is good for someone”, you suggested, only for your “master”, or whatever she wanted you to call her in front of others, to let out a small laugh.

“Are you already tired? I’ll let you know that if you want to become as great of an astrologist as I am, you should get used to research for much longer”, she responded, seemingly enjoying herself, and while that was great and all, there was one thing she got wrong.

“I never wanted to become an astrologist, you just volunteered me for the position as your discipline-”, you barely managed to disagree before getting cut off by Mona.

“Let’s not get hung up on semantics-”, she responded, only to get herself cut off by the sound of her belly growling, causing her proud look to get immediately replaced by an embarrassed one. But before you even had the chance to open your mouth to say something, her glare politely dissuaded you from doing so.

“How about we take a break and eat at Good Hunter? It’s my treat”, you suggested once again, Mona seeming to be more open to your proposal this time around.

“Fine, while it’s not like I need you to pay for me, since you offered it so nicely, I accept”, she stated in her usual, proud tone.

“Oh, so you didn’t bankrupt yourself by using all of your money to buy a new tool this month?”, you asked, knowing the answer full well, but nonetheless enjoying every moment of her smirk disappearing.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”, Mona didn’t miss a beat to accuse you, only to turn even more annoyed when you simply nodded in response. “You do know that telling a white lie is the polite thing to do at times, right?”, she asked, causing you to nod once again.

“You’d see right through my lies, so there’s not really any reason for me not to be honest”, you responded truthfully. Mona on the other hand remained silent for a few seconds, choosing instead to stare at you with a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

“How did they survive so long in this world?”, she asked herself out loud before letting out a sigh and closing her eyes for a second, only for her thoughts to get once again interrupted by none other than you.

“You are the astrologer here, just use astrology to find out.” Mona didn’t even have to look at your face to know that you wore some sort of self-satisfied grin, so she didn’t, choosing instead to turn around and march to the door, only to then speak up in a defeated tone.

“Let’s go eat something, I’m too hungry to deal with you for even a second longer.”

[tsintotwo]

[My toxic trait is I’d get an unhinged fic idea for a niche fandom that maybe two other people want to read and STILL up and write it because it drives me crazy not to 🤦‍♀️...This is 59 Hours, Jake (Sweetbitter) x Reader. Snowed in and stuck in his apartment. Good Girl x Bad Boy, will be a few parts and will get lots saucier)]

Hour 01

You don’t know him, only that he’s called Jake. He’s pale, tall, slender, and casually handsome in a scruffy sort of way. You’re stuck in his apartment. And you have zero idea when you can leave.

‘You tried going to work in this fucking weather?’, he asks you. He’s looking out the window, but there’s nothing to see except pure white.  

‘I was already almost here’. News about this surprise blizzard arrived about the same time as the storm itself did. ‘Had to check out of my motel in the morning.’ you say from his single couch.

‘Not from here?’, he looks at you. An earring glints on his left ear.

‘No. But my firm collects data for neighborhoods all over the country. So I go all over.’

‘Data?’

‘Socio-economic stuff. Income, living standard, health.'

He eyes you, 'Aren't you too young to get stuck in a boring job like that?'

'It's not boring. You get to talk to all sorts of people.'

So much for that today, though. By the time you got there no one was out because FUCKING BLIZZARD, and you realized that the only thing you needed then anyway was to not be out in the open. 

You started walking- with no sense of direction and a mounting sense of helpless frustration. You couldn’t see two feet in front of you, and you were stuck in a shitty part of the town. To top it off, your phone ran out of battery because it’s just that kind of a day, isn’t it? Then walking simply became impossible, so you leaned against the wall you were walking along and let the stupid tears fall. As it turned out, the wall was opposite his building and that’s when he saw you angrily wiping the tears off.

'What do you do?' you ask. 'You were going out too.'

‘I bartend. And I wasn’t going out. I just opened the building side-door a few inches and saw this chick crying.’, he says with a smirk. It’s more condescending than jokey. This man doesn’t much care about being a nice guy, you think. But then, if he didn’t offer you shelter- be it out of sympathy, pity or basic decency- you’d be freezing to death right now.

‘Yeah.’, you say evenly, ‘I felt overwhelmed, and I cried.’ You see no point in being defensive. ‘Thank you, though, for letting me wait in your apartment’, you realize you forgot to say this until now. ‘You probably just saved my life.’, you add, earnest.

You don’t think he expected this answer to his dig. His smile disappears and he looks away. ‘Whatever’, he says, ‘It’s nothing. You said you had a flight?’, he’s got his phone in his hand, frowning, the blue glow lighting up the profile of his face- the sharp lines of his cheekbones, nose, chin and jaw.

You’ve found his power outlet, and are just plugging in your own phone, taking the charger out of your backpack. ‘Yeah, in the afternoon. As soon as my phone has some juice I’ll call for an Uber to the airport, and I will be out of your hair.‘

‘Yeah.’, he says, turning his phone around so you can see the news headline on the screen, ‘Good luck with that.’

All Outgoing Flights from NYC Cancelled.

Shit.

Hour 02

Jake's eyes are a vivid blue. He's from Cape Cod. He works at the Union Square Cafe. The woman who called to check in is not his girlfriend. This is as much as you learned about him in over an hour. He's not much of a talker. So far he’s largely ignored you- pacing about, fidgeting with items in the apartment, tapping his phone. You don't mind, but you mind that you're intrigued by him.

You're from a small town. When you're out working, you don't meet Jake's kind of people: people who give this edgy-cool vibe. It's effortless too. And he's hot. But you better not be interested, 'cause there's another current to the vibe you know very well: bad news. Jake is trouble. You don't have time for that sort of stuff.

He plops down on the bed. Lounges in a way that reminds you of a jungle cat. 'I’m almost out.’, he says, lighting another cigarette. ‘This is my emergency pack. That’s why I went downstairs to look. To see if I could get out for a quick minute and get a fucking carton or something.’ You guess he's starting to talk out of pure boredom.

You sort of claimed Jake's couch. It's big enough for two and very comfortable. Snuggling in there with your feet up, you look at him. Even sitting down, leaning back, there's some kind of restless, coiled energy in him. Under his thin white tee-shirt, you can tell his muscles are toned… okay, maybe not a good idea to notice that. But you can’t help noticing how the ones in his arm flex, because the elaborate tattoos keep drawing your eyes on there. 

‘Is that what's making life hard for you right now?’, you say instead, deadpan. The blizzard actually got worse, the news portals are reporting unprecedented bad weather, and not even a truck, let alone an Uber car, could get here now through the snow. And where would you go anyway?

Jake snorts, letting a stream of smoke out of his nose and mouth. ‘You don’t, do you? Smoke?’

‘No. Never have.’

He raises his brows slightly. ‘Never? Not even a drag in high school?’ He’s got a voice that you like- a bit gruff and guttural.

‘No.’

‘Stronger stuff?’

‘Nope.’

‘Ever?’

‘Nope.

‘Sounds fun, between this and the job.'

'I haven't had much time for fun.', you say. Then you curse yourself. That bit of info was too personal to drop on a stranger- that too this stranger. There's just something about two people in a tiny space, sitting in a growing haze of smoke, with the world out all white and non-existent, you guess. Creates an illusion of closeness that's not there. 

But you said what you said, and you don't look away as his eyes lock with yours. 'Family shit?', he asks.

'Shit family', you say in short.

He nods and raises the bottle in his hand. 'I'll drink to that.' He takes a swig and offers it to you.

You shake your head, 'I'd rather have some food. Would you happen to have anything to eat? Or I can cook. Unfortunately, it looks like we’ll both be here for a while.'

'See if you can find anything in the fridge’, he sweeps the air with his hand, again drawing your attention to his tattoo. You think it’s a mermaid.

You stand up, and before stepping away, say, ‘Hey. Thanks again. I know you’d rather not have a random girl in your apartment-‘

‘That’s what you think?’, he gives a wolfish grin, looking up at you.

‘Well,’, you’re a bit flustered, but you recover, ‘Not one like me anyway. A rescue project. Here for an indefinite time- can’t chuck me out, can’t get out. And boring. So…’

He acknowledges your sarcastic dig with a slight nod. Then he says, ‘You’re not so bad, for a random girl.’, blowing smoke towards the ceiling.

Hour 04

Like many things, you’re also the cook in your family and you whipped up a decent meal. Truth be told you were a bit nervous- Jake works at a high-end restaurant, and while you’re not trying to impress him here you’d feel bad if he didn’t like the food. It’s his food anyway. But he seems to not only approve but enjoy it. He actually says, ‘Thank you’.

This makes you smile and- damnit, girl. That happy warmth in your stomach’s gotta go ‘cause it’s not the food that’s doing it. Jake’s got a small table with two chairs and sitting opposite him in the low light, eating and actually having some sort of an adult conversation- with thorny back-and-forths sprinkled in that you find challenging but exhilarating- is feeding into a gap in your life. You always either eat alone or you’re the only real adult at the table, worrying about whether your younger siblings are eating what they’re supposed to and whether your mom is eating at all.

But playing house with a strange guy in a strange city is not the way to band-aid that wound. You start clearing out the paper plates.

‘Let me.’, he stands up, taking the plates from your hand. His fingers brush yours. It should be nothing, but it isn’t.

‘Nobody’s cooked for me in ages.’, Jake says, unexpected because it’s real, free of sarcasm or cynicism as you’re learning is his usual style.

He’s really close to you. Your eyes meet, his look dark and stormy in the low light, and then they drop to your mouth for a second, making your heart drop a beat.

The shrill ring of his phone breaks the moment. He goes to receive the call, and you catch your breath.

Oh, this is so stupid.

And dangerous.

And inviting.

Hour 07

You realize you fell asleep on the couch. Jake is sleeping too, he’s on the bed. You browse your phone for a while and your heart sinks. The storm is expected to continue through the night. The city is at a standstill. The cell reception has started glitching too.

You stand up, go wash your face, walk around the apartment, looking at things. Jake’s got some cool books, an expensive camera, photos he took (you assume) framed on the wall. They’re of the beach, the sea, a woman. Then you look at him sleeping, and there’s this liquid affection that churns in you suddenly- without the usual furrowed brows and the hard set of his mouth, he looks so innocent and vulnerable. The dark hair falling on his forehead, thick lashes, smooth cheeks, soft lips. He’s actually quite pretty when he's not scowling, you realize.

Okay, neither that affection nor this realization is helpful. Smoke still hangs in the air, making the room stuffy, and you think you can open the widow a crack and let in some fresh air. But what come in are a flurry of snow and a bone-chilling gust, waking Jake up.

‘What the fuck?’, he says, sitting up, groggy.

‘Sorry, sorry!’, you close his window as quickly as you can and hold up your hands. ‘Just thought I’d let in some fresh air for a few seconds.’

He shakes his head, then checks his phone, frowning at the slow internet. ‘It’s not looking good for you’, he comments after a minute.

‘Yeah’, you sit down on the side of the bed, ‘I’m really sorry, Jake.’

‘You should be.’, he stretches, his t-shirt riding up just a bit, revealing a sliver of his pale, flat stomach- God, that’s distracting- ‘because of course, you personally summoned the storm, made it snow, got stuck on purpose.’

You roll your eyes, ‘I’m sorry I may have to impose upon you much longer than either of us planned.’

‘We can find ways’- he leans in, a smile pulling up the corner of his mouth, the silver chain he wears around his neck dangling, ‘to make us both less sorry.’

You are young, but you aren’t supposed to be naïve. So you’re really annoyed at how this instantly speeds up your heartbeat. You swallow, and say, ‘Are you flirting with me?’

‘Why?’, he cocks his head, ‘Does Ms. Goody-Two-Shoes disapprove?’ This close, you can smell his slept-in smell, and that shouldn’t be attractive, let alone this attractive.

‘No,’ you say, ‘just surprised to see Mr. Broody-Two-Shoes be interested in less-sorry thoughts.’

He snorts, ‘Thanks to your terrible joke, I no longer am.’

‘The hours I spent with you must be already rubbing off on me.’, you quip back, and this time his smile is almost genuine. You’re both quiet for a moment, and you know you both feel the connection that’s growing between you two.

‘I’m gonna go take a shower’, he moves away abruptly, and you have a feeling he’s afraid of connections that are real. That would be in character. You don’t judge though- you have your own issues, he has his. Both come down to the same thing- you two shouldn’t… fuck.

Why the heck did I think about that?- you curse yourself. As if it’s already not hard enough to rein in your mind.

While Jake showers, you change too. You’re spending the night here, there’s no getting around it. You have to travel light, and outfit choices for when you were supposed to be alone are not great. You slip on your tank top and pj shorts with a loose cardigan.

When Jake comes out of the shower, he stares at you for a moment. You are showing a lot more skin than you had been all day, so you get it, but worse, you kind of love how his eyes sweep over your body, seem to get stuck on the red birthmark under your throat. Making the situation more problematic is: post-shower Jake smells really good and he’s already done that thing with his arm that makes his tee ride up and you’ve not only seen his stomach again but also the sharp beginning of his pelvic bones because he’s wearing the loose pants low.

‘You look at home’, Jake comments, walking towards you.

You shrug, ‘Thought I’d claim the land.’

‘What about the owner?’ He’s standing really close. And okay, maybe he's this older guy, slick, no doubt has lots more experience with women than you have with men. He clearly sees that, so maybe he's just teasing you. Just some fun- get under your skin, make you squirm. But you aren't blind, and you see that some of it is real interest. The attraction between you two right now, chemistry, whatever- it's both-sided. You feel heat gathering in your abdomen. And that almost catches you off-guard. Arousal, and just from the mere proximity of this guy. You should stop this now.

‘I don’t plan to claim him.’, you say, trying to keep your voice even.

‘Why?’, Jake's voice drops to a husky, gravelly pitch, ‘Not good enough for you?’ You can see he’s taken your words as either offense or challenge, but you’re not into lying games.

So you say, ‘Maybe too good for me to afford.’, and walk away towards your couch. You’ll be safer on your own.

(Update: Part 2)

[hellfirecvnt]

Because I love your stuff so much I’m gonna put in another request 😊

A smutty Eddie request where the reader is Steve’s sister and Eddie comes over to get something from Steve but he isn’t home and the reader is. She’s at the pool tanning in her little black bikini. She asks Eddie to stay and wait, meanwhile she teases him horribly.

Love you bb!💕

This has been months in the making lol. Sorry I took so long. ❤️

"Your Sister is Hot."

Eddie Munson x Fem!Harrington!Reader

Warnings: smut (+18, minors DNI)

"I want my vest back, Harrington. Took a long time to collect those patches," Eddie chats with Steve over the phone. His playful tone is a reflection of his mood. "I'll come by and get it in an hour." He hangs up.

"No, dude I won't be home-" Steve is cut off by the click of Eddie's phone returning to the wall. "Whatever, Y/N will be here." He mumbles to himself before heading out the door. Eddie smokes a joint or two and reads through his D&D adventure before finally deciding to head to the Harrington house.

Eddie approaches the upper-class home and rings the campy doorbell. A loud chime echoes through the house, alerting no one.

"Where the fuck are you, Hair?" Eddie peeks into the window and notices the sliding door is unlocked. Someone has to be home. He treks around back, jumping when he notices you by the pool. You're laying on your stomach with the strings of your tiny bikini undone to avoid tan lines. You relax with your head resting on one folded arm, the other holding a book.

"Oh, um. I'm sorry. Is uh, Steve here?" Eddie trips over his words, wishing he would've just ran off before you knew he was there.

"He left about an hour ago. He'll probably be back any minute. You're welcome to hang out here." You smile at him. "Just give me a sec to get situated if you don't mind." You gesture to your undone top with your thumb.

"Oh, yeah. Of course." Eddie answers, but he doesn't look away. He continues to stare as if he didn't hear you.

"So, can you turn around?" You giggle, a small blush rising on your sun-kissed cheeks.

"Oh, OH! Yeah," he spins on his heel, covering and closing his eyes like he doesn't trust himself. A few seconds pass and you grant him permission to turn around.

"Sorry 'bout that, but as I was saying, Steve shouldn't be gone long," your body glistens in the sunlight from the various SPF lotions and tanning oils you've layered on. Each of your curves catches the light, making you look almost like a painting. A masterpiece, Eddie thinks to himself. "Can I get you a drink or anything?" Your words shake Eddie from his daze, he blushes, unsure if he was staring. He was.

"That'd be great, thank you," he rebuilds his charismatic front, staring confidently into your eyes with a wide, toothy smile. You disappear into the house, feeling as his eyes shamelessly scanned your hips and ass as you gracefully walked away from him.

"I hope this is okay," you hand him a fruity mixed drink. "I made a whole pitcher, I'm... Not sure why." That was a lie though, you were gonna get day drunk. At first, Eddie chuckles at your girly little drink. It's hot pink with slices of orange and strawberries in it. It looks like Barbie threw up on a Bratz doll and someone blended it up with glitter. But the second he takes a sip, he's nearly knocked off his feet.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N. That's a little strong for a whole pitcher, don't you think?"

"No? This is lighter than I usually mix." You tilt your head to the side. "I thought you knew how to party." Your teasing elicits a dramatic reaction from him. He stares at you in mock shock, mouth agape with his hand on his chest.

"I am the party, doll," he quips, turning the glass of boozy liquid up like water. After a short while, the entire jug is empty, and you're both very drunk. The heat of the Summer sun only amplifies the alcohol.

"Eddie, you have a guitar pick on your necklace." You point a wavering finger at his chest.

"Yeah, I do," his words are almost giggles. He smiles cutely, watching your face as it scans his.

"Do you play guitar?" You furrow your brow. He widens his eyes again.

"I'm about to leave, what is this?" He laughs. "You know my band plays at the local venues. I know I've seen you there wearing almost nothing-" he blushes instantly after realizing what he said.

"Oh, is that what you remember when you see me?" You smile, narrowing your eyes, beckoning him to get naked right here with just one look.

"God, no that's not-" he laughs nervously.

"I'm kidding, Munson. I like that my outfits leave an impression. And of course I know about Corroded Coffin," you lean closer to him in your poolside chair. "I was just seeing if I could steer the conversation to your hands."

"My hands?" His chest is threatening to hitch as you lower your voice, eyeing him like a piece of meat.

"Well, your fingers, really." You bite your bottom lip softly. "I bet you're pretty quick with them."

"I mean, I don't like to brag or anything..." He's fighting for his life, uncomfortably hard against the denim of his pants.

"I guess I'll only know if I come see you play." You twirl a piece of your hair around your finger, blatantly scanning your vision up and down his body. His heart races as he does the same to you.

"I-I could play for you any time." He doesn't even realize it, but he starts lightly palming himself through his jeans as he fucks you with his eyes, taking in every angle of your oily cleavage as the sun reflects golden against you.

"I'd love for you to play with me."

"What?"

"I said I'd love for you to play for me?" You repeat, toying with his head as he fights himself to keep his eyes on yours.

"Oh, yeah. Sorry," he laughs nervously, a bright red blush spreading across his cheeks. You giggle at his disheveled appearance, he's normally so cool and carefree. It's such a fun power to have over him, and you're taking full advantage.

An awkward silence threatens to fall over the two of you. You bite your lip before reaching for your bottle of tanning oil.

"Eddie, could you help me reapply this to my back?" You smile devilishly, watching him squirm in his seat, desperate to hide his growing erection.

"Oh, of course. Sure." He rushes to your side, carefully smoothing the shining oils across your skin. As his hands work down to your lower back, you arch your spine, unintentionally giving him an almost perfect view of your ass. His pulse rises in his chest. He doesn't realize he's stopped moving his hands as he stares directly at the way your bikini bottoms have slipped between your cheeks due to their high waisted thong style.

"Eddie?" You notice his staring and "accidentally" shake yourself a little as you flip over to speak to him. Your voice tears him from his trance. "You look a little bothered," you tease.

"Oh, yeah?" Eddie finally catches on.

"Yeah. If I were bothered, I think I'd do something about it."

"Yeah? You want me to do something about it?" With a wide grin spread across his face, he climbs on top of you in your lounge chair and slams his lips into yours, hungrily. His hands glide across your oily skin, drowning the both of you in the smell of coconuts.

"It's about fucking time, Eddie."

"What do you mean?" He chuckles, gripping at your curves like he isn't ruining his clothes with your tanning oil.

"I don't wear those outfits to the venue for fun." You smirk. He releases a gutteral chuckle and reconnects his lips to yours.

"Well isn't this cute." Steve's voice alerts both of you, returning you to reality. "Jesus, Munson. Just take the vest and leave next time." Steve averts his vision and stalks away sassily. You and Eddie look at each other in shock before busting into laughter.

"Why don't we..." Eddie looks you up and down yet again. "take this back to my house?"

"I'll meet you in the van." You spoke quickly, like this was something you'd been waiting for. Just the thought made Eddie's erection strain against the fabric of his pants. In his van he grins ear to ear thinking about the very second he gets you through the front door of his trailer.

All he can think about is the way your skin ignites his fingertips. He's startled from his thoughts when you yank the door open and climb into his passenger seat. His breath catches in his throat as he drinks in the image of you in yet another skimpy, barely-there outfit.

Eddie tightens his jaw before suddenly grasping at the nape of your neck, guiding your face to his belt buckle. Your hands eagerly free his throbbing cock and you take his full length into your mouth. Eddie presses harder on the gas pedal. You bob your head rhythmically, earning several sensual moans from Eddie. He throws his head back and goes even faster, arriving at his house in what feels like minutes.

"Get inside. Wait for me." Eddie smirks wickedly. Your stomach flutters with anticipation, but you do as you're told. He likes that. You step inside the door and close it softly behind you. Scanning the room, you try to imagine what position he'd want you in and where. A dull light glows from a room at the far end of the trailer, Eddie's room. You only know that because you see the smoke still casually leaking out into the living room.

The door knob begins to turn, and you realize you're out of time so you bend down, ass facing toward the door, like you dropped something and await his reaction to your all-too-short skirt.

"Jesus-" Eddie gasps as you slowly rise from your bent position. You lock eyes with him immediately, softly gliding your hands up your legs as you straighten out your posture. "I remember this skirt." He chuckles.

"You and half of the men in that bar on main street." You wink, looking over your shoulder at him. Just as you're about to turn to face him, he grips the waist band of your skirt and pulls you against him.

"I doubt any of those old fucks could handle a babe like you."

"Probably give 'em a heart attack." You giggle, patiently waiting for him to snap. His soft chuckles rumble against your neck as he drags his lips against your skin, grinding against you all the while. "Eddie," your patience quickly wears thin.

You're cut off by his swift, agile movements. Before you realize, you're being tossed onto the couch. Eddie looms over you, admiring your sun kissed body. Your top malfunctions, exposing one of your breasts as you prop yourself up on your elbows. His eyes seem to flutter back into his skull before he dives down to you, roughly running his hands anywhere he pleased.

You moan loudly as his fingertips dig into your breast. His thumb teases your exposed nipple as he locks his lips with yours. His hands finally find the tiny string of your thong. He swiftly removes them and tosses them aside, desperate for more contact. You reach to remove your skirt next, but he stops you.

In one quick motion, he flips you on your stomach.

"Eddie?" You expected a bit more foreplay.

"Shh," you hear his buckle jingle as he unfastens his jeans. "You've been teasing me for hours, Y/N."

"E-Eddie?" You grin ear to ear, biting your lip with excitement. Longing to be punished for your relentless teasing.

"Not a fucking sound." His warm, low voice rumbles like thunder down your skin. You barely have time to register his command when he slams his entire cock into you. Your first instinct is to let out a loud moan, even a scream. But you catch yourself at the last minute, releasing nothing but a small squeak.

Eddie continues to slam into you, grunting and growling behind you, gripping your hips for leverage. Each thrust sends a lightning bolt through your body. The pain and pleasure build up in your abdomen, and staying silent feels nearly impossible.

"Okay..." He huffs between thrusts. "You can talk now." With his last syllable, he slams into you as hard as possible. You scream and writhe beneath him, orgasming. Eddie doesn't let up, he fucks you as fast as possible, basking in the sounds of your pleasure. Smooth, deep laughter escapes his lips as he fucks you out.

He grabs your hair at the back of your head, making you stand before him. You face him and he lifts your legs around his waist, slipping inside of you easily. His strong arms hold you steady as he bounces you up and down his twitching erection. Your arousal drips down the two of you.

"Oh my God, Eddie-" your breath hitches in your chest as you near your climax. He laughs, continuously drilling into you as your orgasm. You rife out your high, begging for a break as he reaches his peak. He tosses you back onto the couch and cums across your chest and stomach.

He stands over you, bracing himself on the wall behind the couch. His sweating skin glistens in the warm, yellow light of his home. The curls and waves that frame his face drip small droplets of sweat onto your just-as-sweaty body.

You excuse yourself on wobbly legs to clean up and return to find Eddie waiting for you in his room. He seems to have shoved the "mess" into any corner he could find, clearing a space for the two of you on his bed. Hes holding an old band tee out to you and that's when you realize your hoe-clothes are a bit disheveled. You shed the skimpy outfit and dawn the comfy, worn in shirt. It's soft and smells just like Eddie.

[domaslut]

I WON’T CRUCIFY THE THINGS YOU DO (PART 2).

Part 1.

Pairings: Chester Davies x reader; Felix Rosier x reader

Warnings: angst, language, bits of fluff, references to cheating, Chester showing his dark side, possessive behavior, alcohol, cigarettes, manipulative behavior, some mention to sex, morally grey reader, post Hogwarts, the characters are in their twenties. Felix is kind of toxic in this one.

Plot: the day of your ‘date’ with Felix has come. You fill up Chester with the news and he gets lost into the depths of his mind. Apparently, your caring boyfriend has some secrets, but he is careful not to let you know about it. A few hours later, you find yourself at the Rosiers Manor and Felix does anything in his power to bring out the worst in you. Will you give in to the dark side?

[Please, read the first part of this short fan fiction on the following link: Part 1. ]

His owl had two piercing yellow eyes and shiny black feathers. You did not even get the chance to pet it, or let it rest. The rapacious bird flew away, leaving you with a piece of paper in your shaking hands. You watched it disappear into the white, fluffy clouds in the sky, your gaze followed it until all you could discern was a tiny black dot. Apparently, Felix was dead serious about your date.

Back in Diagon Alley, you thought you had lost Chester forever though. You were ready to risk it all, whatever was the price you had to pay. Now, however, Chester was back into your life, he had forgiven you. Were you still one hundred percent sure about going all the way down to have your friend back?

You hopped onto the counter, opening the letter with your heart thrumming into your chest. It was just a fake date, right? What could possibly go wrong? Hundreds of what ifs haunted your mind, depicting tragic scenarios before your eyes and the urge to scream became unbearable second by second. You were so lost into the depths of your mind that you had not noticed your boyfriend entering the kitchen and, when his hand settled on the top of your shoulder, you shrieked in fear under his gentle touch.

Chester frowned, shooting an apologetic glance at your shaking frame “Hey, it’s me. Are you alright, love?” he quietly asked.

You gulped nervously and fidgeted with the piece of paper in your hands. He knew you had met Felix, he knew those marks on your neck were his unrequired gift. You had told him that he had probably did it to provoke him, it was his message for Chester, a wicked game he had come up with to torture his former friend, rival and, nowadays, enemy. The thing was you did not tell him about the date. As long as a part of you knew it was best for him and your relationship not to reveal that little secret, you were conscious that lying about the contrived meeting with the dark wizard would have just been detrimental to your relationship.

“It’s Felix. – you feebly spoke out, folding the piece of paper in half – I have omitted a few details about our encounter in Diagon Alley” you admitted, eyes downcast as you heard Chester’s breath hitch at the mention of his name. You hated putting him through Hell, once again. The perks of being your partner consisted in misery and agony, didn’t they?

Chester nodded absent-mindedly “I’m listening” he just said, propping his hands on the edge of the counter, right beside you.

“He was all over me. I had to figure out a way to decline his avances without screwing up my plan… – you said, glancing at him to assess his reaction – I agreed on going on a date with him. Tonight” you blurted out, cheeks heating up in shame. Was he going to change his mind? He knew right from the start that you were going to be a spy, yet he did not know that you had been that idiot to sell out your body to the enemy. You were his girlfriend and, before the war broke out, he was planning to ask your hand.

A deafening silence swallowed you two for a few minutes. If it was not for the steady sound of the clock ticking, you would have thought time was frozen. None of you two dared to speak, or move. You felt numb, legs tingling and heart aching. You feared Chester’s judgment just as you feared his heavy gaze.

“Where?” he said then.

You frowned, taken aback by his simple question. You did not expect him to make a fuss about it, but certainly not to be that calm and collected.

“Chester…” you breathed out, discarding the letter on the counter to grasp his hand.

Your boyfriend stared at your hand, a small smile tugging the angles of his lips up “Tell me, have you ever taken your ring off?” he inquired then, caressing the back of your hand with his thumb.

You smiled back at him, half-lidded eyes locking with his ones “I would never take it off. – you whispered, blushing slightly – When we broke up, this ring was the only trace of your existence you had left behind. It reminded me of the time we spent together and that, maybe, there was still hope for us. Further more, it’s a sapphire, it’s blue… It’s such a ravenclaw thing, you know” you said, washing away the saddness engulfing your stomach with a light laughter. You remembered the day he had gifted you with it and he did too.

It was almost Christmas and you had finally moved into your lovely apartment with your boyfriend. You heart was filled up with joy, you still could not believe the stressful days spent in picking up the forniture and sleeping on the floor, beside the fireplace, were finally gone. You were decorating the Christmas Tree, when you heard Chester clear his throat from behind you.

“May I have your attention, please?” he asked, dangling a small silver bag in front of him.

Your eyes grew round and you clasped a hand over your mouth “Oh, Chester, you really shouldn’t have…” you ranted, cocking your head to the side in distress. You both had spent way too much money on your home, it was not necessary to buy a gift for Christmas. You both had agreed on it, but your boyfriend would have rather died than leaving you without a present to unwrap.

“But this is not exactly a ‘Christamas present’! I had bought it months before we found this flat” he declared, pursing his lips in satisfaction.

You rolled your eyes at his remark and ambled towards him with curious eyes and a disapproving look plastered over your face. Why did he have to be so stubborn? Why did you always feel like he gave you more than you deserved? You had messed up countless times in your life, but he always had your back. Chester Davies was truly Heaven sent.

You grabbed the small bag, and dived your hand in it only for your fingers to meet what you assumed to be a box. When you pulled it out, you felt colors draining from your face and Chester chuckled in response, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“You know, the ribbon is not going to untie itself. It’s not cursed, or enchanted, for what can matter… – Chester softly said, patiently waiting for you to open the pearly golden box in your hands – I have visited the Muggle London and I got to say that muggles have good taste, along with an extraordinary talent in manufacturing” he noted, earning a corncerned glance from you.

“What did you do?” you murmured, pulling the corner of the silky fabric and watching it sagging down at your feet. Chester smirked, he did not say a word, yet he encouraged you to lift up the lid of the box with a wink.

Back to the present, Chester nodded his head and cupped your cheek in hia calloused hand, leaning in to plant a tender kiss on your lips. You shivered when your mouths connected and the urge to disappear into his embrace became impellent. Still, you could not escape reality. There was something you had to deal with or, better yet, someone.

“And that’s enough for me, darling” he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours.

“What do you mean?” he asked, batting your eyes closed.

“If you haven’t taken this ring off, it means you love me. – he explained, nuzzling his nose against your cheek – And as long as you do, nothing could break us” he said, pulling your closer to him. You obliged to his request of physical touch, your arms were loosely resting around his neck and your legs were parted to allow him to settle in between them. A comfort hug.

You bit down your lower lip softly, not to let a pathetic whine of despair to escape your throat and clutched the fabric of his shirt in your fists “Does it mean that you trust me?” you hesitantly asked him.

The former ravenclaw prefect ran his fingerd through your hair, eyes staring outside the window to wipe away the horrific scenes playing on repeat in his tormented mind. Felix Rosier was not going to stand between you two anymore. You never truly belonged to that bastard anyway. You meant nothing to your slytherin ‘friend’ and a part of him was glad he had hurt you through the years. However, did Felix meant something to you? Jealousy, rage and hatred filled his heart to the point he had planned to get rid of him, once and for all, if he had dared to touch you in any inappropriate way.

“Of course I trust you” he eventually answered, his fingertips digging into your waist and making you stiffen up. It was true, indeed. He trusted you. It was him he did not trust.

It happened almost one year ago. When Chester had entered the speak easy that infamous summer night, he did not expect to lock eyes with Felix Rosier. Neat hair, high cheekbones, a cigarette hanging from his lips and his typical smug grin greeting any lady passing by his table, the former Slytherin prefect was enjoying his day off from work.

“Where’s she?” Felix inquired, smoke flinging all around him as he exhaled through his nostrils. He truly resembled a dragon. It was true, then. The crest on the letters belonged to the Rosiers.

Chester slumped down onto the chair, a dreadful look in his eyes “That’s none of your business”.

Felix pouted, rolling his eyes in annoyance “Bloody hell, I was literally dying to see her! It’s your fault, isn’t it? I mean, she would have never turned down a reunion with her ‘best friend’… – he ranted, venom dripping from the words rolling out of his tongue – Let alone an order from her former prefect. She is a good pet, Chester, you know? She obeys, I like it!”.

He had crossed the line.

Chester launched himself towards him and grasped the collar of his white shirt, his face dangerously close to the other male’s one “Don’t give me the chance to fuck up your face, Rosier. I should have done it ages ago” he practically growled at his face, letting go of him abruptly.

Felix leant back on the backrest of his chair and bursted out laughing, a devious smile crossed his face as he pushed back some strands of hair fallen over his forehead “Woah, chill, Davies! It’s not like I get the chance to hang out with her that often. You throw my letters in the trashcan at the Ministry, she doesn’t know I’m looking for her”.

He knew then. How could he even think he was a step ahead of him? Felix was a snake, slithering undisturbed in the shadows and getting what he wanted without much effort.

“Screw you” Chester barked, through gritted teeth.

“If it was not because I do not want get kicked out of this nice place, I’d have the perfect comeback for this one! Something like ‘I’d rather have her do it for me’… – he jeered at him – Despite that, I am eager to know why you do not want us to meet. She is my… Uhm, friend, I guess. We have a lot to catch up with!” Felix innocently stated, taking a pull at his cigarette.

“Stay away from her. You are toxic, she is still recovering from your bravados back at your manor. You are just an arrogant, spoiled brat who can’t control himself. I am not going to let you ruin her” Chester spat, slamming a hand on the small table.

Felix grinned, putting out his cigarette on the silver ashtray “Tch, she’s already doomed, Davies. – Felix noted, glancing at his interlocutor briefly, before focusing on the ashtray again – You think I have ruined her and that, if we ever meet again, I am going to finish what I have started, don’t you? That’s bullshit, mon ami. She does have a dark side, I have seen it before. All I ever did was helping her to embrace her nature. Perhaps, all it takes to unleash the beast roaring inside her heart… Oh, oui, maybe it’s me! You don’t trust her around me, huh?” he blurted out, staring down at Chester as if he was trying to mess with his head.

Chester stood up, his hand twitching as he tried to resist the urge to draw his wand and kill him. He could feel it in the air: Felix was no good, he affected every human being standing on his path. He was bad for you, he was a menace.

“It’s quite the opposite. It’s not her I don’t trust. It’s you”.

The House Elf welcoming you in the majestic yet gloomy Rosier Manor looked depressed. Big, wary eyes staring at the marble floor, small and trembling frame the little creature had told you that Felix would have been there any minute. Your heart broke at the sad sight before your eyes and you bent down on your knees to give him a little comfort.

“You don’t have to bow your head. It’s okay, really. If you want, you can take a break” you whispered, smiling weakly at her.

The elf flicked her gaze up at you and was about to say something, but no sound left her lips. Her eyes opened wide and she hastily scurried away, disappearing in a dark alley on her right. He was there, right behind you. His presence was suffocating. You remembered the feeling it gave you, when he walked into your common room back at Hogwarts. All eyes on him, people did not dare to cross him.

“Bonsoir” he purred.

Your breath hitched and you whipped your head towards him, switching off your fear to act on your best behavior. Red painted lips curled up into a sardonic smile, you cocked your head to the side and let your eyes travel up and down his lean frame. A deadly poison, the perfect incarnation of a belladonna. Handsome, yet venomous.

“Ah, flawless as ever, I see” he complimented you, shooting an approving look at you.

You would have lied, if you said his words did not crawl underneath your skin. He perfectly knew how to act and what to say to fool around with you. He had done it countless times, he had played with your heart for years. Despite that, you owned a special place in your heart. Was he not your greatest weakness?

“And you are the full of yourself as per usual, I see” you countered back, mouth dry as he slowly stalked towards you. He smirked at your remark, cold sweat running down your bare shoulders as you fought back the urge to run away. The red flags were hanging from his back as a cape, but you could not simply leave. His dark eyes were magnetic, his presence alone prevented you from taking a false step.

“Then you are aware that I still always get what I want” he pinpointed, his breath suddenly fanning your lips.

When did he get so close to you? Did you zone out again? You shivered, fluttering your eyes closed not let his ones inspect yours. Your heart thrumming in your chest, you swallowed the limp in your throat and clenched your fists at your sides. Crescent bloody moons would have surely surfaced on your palms, if it was not for the black gloves separating your nails from your skin.

“What is it that you want?” you quipped.

A dark laughter rumbled in his chest, right before his forefinger and thumb grasped your chin and forced you to look back at him, straight into his black pitch pupils.

“Oh, sweetheart, isn’t it clear? – he paused, taunting you – It’s you, your heart, your soul, your darkness. Yeah, give in to me, just like you did in the good old days… Will you? We used to have so much fun together!” Felix Rosier, the villain in your story asked you.

Did you have fun with him? He did, no doubt about it. You could not talk about ‘memories’. Most of the nights you two spent together were just blurry bits of what you recalled once you sobered up. Yet, why could you not remember even a whole event.

“Strip out of your clothes for me”.

“Drink”.

“Good girl, you are the best”.

He was alluring you to enter the darkness once again. Your boyfriend was trying so hard to let you stand in the light. What were you going to do?

AUTHOR NOTE.

Hello there! I have finally posted the part 2 and, if it is even possible, I’m happier than ever. I guess that, if you are up for a third part, I’m down for it too! Let me know what you think about it!

And I guess I am a slave for “dark Felix” 😭❤️

[justabooknerdposts]

Hey! I think you've been taking prompts recently which made me very happy (if not, then totally fine) I'd love to read one where Percy and Annabeth sleep tgether for the first time in the Poseidon cabin (not in the sexual way, but wud still be a huge moment for them kind) for sm reason, ive always felt Annabeth wud bethre shyer one in this scenario xD also a moment of them in uni as they're maturing and their relationship is getting more serious (cud be in a physical way too?) would be awesome.

I'm lovingg reading all the other prompts, immediately canonizing them in my mind. Hope you're doing grt <3

Hi! Happy Annabeth's Birthday! Here are the responses to the two parts of this prompt. If you go to Fanfiction.net or Ao3 (which is working again, yay!), they're two separate chapters in my Tumblr Prompts fic, if anyone would rather read them that way. Hope everyone is doing well!

In the Poseidon Cabin

I DO really like this prompt because they're so calm in MoA when Frank catches them in the stables that it definitely feels like it’s not the first time they’ve woken up together.  Like, they were kind of embarrassed about getting caught, but neither of them acted at all embarrassed about having fallen asleep together, which I thought was interesting.  So, yay for this prompt and the opportunity to explore that lol thanks!

The guilt was stupid.  Annabeth knew that.  But still, two days after Percy’s disappearance, she couldn’t help mentally beating herself up.  They’d been searching for him night and day with no luck.  She’d hadn’t initially been too worried—he occasionally disappeared for a few hours, or even half a day, on random quests or to help sea creatures.  He’d never been gone this long, though, without alerting someone.  But Sally hadn’t heard anything and neither had anyone else.  There were no leads.  He was really and truly missing.  And, Annabeth had to admit, she hadn’t been holding out much hope.  It was the way his bed looked—the covers weren’t tossed back or rumpled like they normally were when he climbed out.  They were just limp and crumpled, still pulled up as if he’d simply disappeared out from beneath them.  Which meant that something worse than a random small quest was going on.  Annabeth just couldn’t figure out what.  The lack of information was infuriating.  To be honest, that felt better than the guilt, but the guilt kept creeping back.

She should have stayed in the Poseidon cabin that night.

There was no logical reason for her to be feeling this way.  Percy hadn’t asked.  She hadn’t offered.  And it probably wouldn’t have changed anything if she’d been there.  But what if it had? 

That was the thought which kept threatening to drive her crazy, like a pesky gnat she couldn’t swat.  It was possibly tied to her fatal flaw, thinking that she could have prevented whatever this was.  But she couldn’t help it.  She felt as if she had failed Percy at a moment when he needed her.  And that hurt.

After scouring the forest again for any sign of him (there was none) and then checking in with Tyson and Rainbow at the beach to see if there was any update from under the sea (there wasn’t), Annabeth felt herself start to crumble.  And it wouldn’t do any good for the other campers to see her like that.  So, needing a quiet place to get away from everyone for a few minutes, Annabeth went to the Poseidon cabin.

She perched on the edge of Percy’s bed and closed her eyes.  Maybe, if she listened very hard, the room would whisper to her what had happened.

But it didn’t.  She was just there, alone.

Tears burned Annabeth’s eyes.  She took a deep breath, fighting them down, because if she started crying now, she wasn’t sure she would stop.  And that wouldn’t do any good.  Instead, trying to distract herself, she thought of the first time she’d fallen asleep in the Poseidon cabin.

In the four months that she and Percy had been dating, they’d accidentally fallen asleep together a handful of times.  Usually, it was on the couch at Percy’s apartment while watching a movie, and once at her dorm.  But the first time had actually been in the Poseidon cabin, about a week and a half after they’d started dating.  It wasn’t anything scandalous.  They’d just wanted a few minutes away from everyone else.  So they were lying side by side on Percy’s bunk, watching the hippocampi swim across the ceiling.  It had been a long day.  There’d been a very intense post-war Capture the Flag game.  Everyone had seemed eager to throw themselves into a battle that wasn’t actually life or death.  Clarisse, in particular, had been spoiling for a fight.  Annabeth’s shoulder was still aching where she’d taken a hard hit from the daughter of Ares while doing guard duty near the creek.  Of course, Clarisse hadn’t come away unscathed.  Percy had drenched her in a wave of creek water.  While she’d been shouting at him and threatening him with her spear, Malcolm darted across the creek with the flag and the game was over.  Clarisse had been even less happy about that.

“How’s your shoulder?” Percy asked, probably because Annabeth had just winced when she shifted it.

“Sore,” she admitted.  “But I’ve had worse.”

“It was the shoulder where you took that knife, though, wasn’t it?”  Percy’s brow wrinkled with concern.  “That’s a low blow.  Clarisse should have known better.”

Annabeth rolled her eyes.  “Percy, that was almost two weeks ago.  The wound is completely healed.  Plus, you’re assuming Clarisse is observant enough to even realize that.”

He made a face at her, but didn’t argue.

Annabeth slid her fingers along the inside of his arm until she could take his hand.  “Besides, you got her back pretty good.”

Percy grinned.  “Yeah, that was fun.  Reminded me of old times.”

“At least you didn’t get me, too, this time.”  Annabeth nudged him with her good shoulder, remembering one of his first days at camp, when he’d drenched Clarisse and her cronies (and Annabeth) in toilet water.

“My bad.  That was friendly fire.”  Percy turned his head to kiss her cheek and Annabeth felt a flutter run through her.  “Plus, I had literally no control over my powers at that point.  I’m still not actually sure how I made those toilets explode.”

“Maybe you should practice?” Annabeth suggested sweetly.

Percy considered this.  “I could probably hit the Stolls the next time they steal something.”

“I like that idea.”

They both laughed.  Annabeth scooted closer until she could lay her head on Percy’s shoulder.  Golden afternoon sunlight made the bronze hippocampi shimmer against the stone ceiling.  Everything felt warm and calm and peaceful.  Percy squeezed her hand, but didn’t say anything.  Annabeth felt her eyelids getting heavy.  Outside, campers’ voices rose and fell, the usual sounds of talking, shouting, swords clanging from the arena, the climbing wall rumbling.  Inside the cabin, the only sound was the rush of their breathing.  Eventually, they’d both fallen asleep, only waking up when the conch horn had sounded for dinner.  Annabeth had been a bit embarrassed at first, and Percy’s face had been red, but after a few moments, they laughed it off and headed to dinner.  After all, they’d been sleeping beside each other on quests for years.  It wasn’t that different.  Except, Annabeth thought when Percy took her hand as they crossed the green, it also kind of was.

Now, sitting alone in the Poseidon cabin, Annabeth looked up again at the hippocampi, but sunset was nearly past and the cabin was dark, the stone walls reflecting a pale gray light.  There was no wind, so the bronze figurines just hung limply on their strings.  Everything felt darker and dimmer than that memory, which made everything hurt worse.  Annabeth bit her lip, forcing herself not to cry.

The cabin door swung open.  Annabeth jumped.  For one moment, she felt a disbelieving surge of hope, already imagining that it would be Percy in the doorway.  Her heart plummeted, though, when she realized that the figure standing there was Tyson.

“Sorry, Annabeth,” he said.  “I did not mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay,” Annabeth said, trying to hide her disappointment.  “I mean, I’m sorry about being in here.  I didn’t mean to intrude.”

Tyson shrugged.  “It is okay.  I don’t mind.”

“Thanks.”  Annabeth wondered if she should get up, but she couldn’t seem to find the energy.  Plus, it appeared that Tyson really didn’t mind, as he came over and sat down beside her on Percy’s bed.

They were quiet for a few moments. Then Tyson said, “I miss him, too.”

Annabeth crumbled.  She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and buried her face in her hands as the tears fell.

For a while, they just sat there, tears dripping from Annabeth’s hands onto her jeans as Tyson patted her back.  Finally, though, Tyson said, “We will find him, Annabeth.”

Annabeth couldn’t understand how he could have so much confidence in his voice.  But still, she raised her head enough to look at him.  “Do you think so?”

“Yes,” Tyson said without hesitation.  Annabeth almost believed him.

A gust of sea breeze blew through the open windows and a last glimmer of gold from the sunset broke through, gilding the bronze hippocampi now gently twirling above their heads like weathervanes unsure of which direction to point.

2ND RESPONSE: SOCKS

Set during either their freshman or sophomore year of college.

As she flipped through her textbook and shuffled her notes, Annabeth felt a pounding headache start behind her left eye.  It was nearly midterms and she’d been studying for what felt like hours, sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed in her New Rome University dorm room.  Her roommate had gone home for the weekend, so Annabeth had the room to herself, which was a rare treat.  And Percy was on his way over with dinner, so that was good news, because on top of developing a headache, she was starving.  She’d skipped lunch to keep studying.  Which was starting to feel like a huge mistake. 

A knock at the door signaled Percy’s arrival.  Annabeth bounced up from the bed.

“Hey.”  She smiled as she opened the door.

“Hey.”  Percy grinned back as he held up the takeout bags from their favorite Mediterranean restaurant.  “Dinner is served.”

“You’re the best.”  Annabeth kissed him, then shut the door behind him as he walked in and kicked off his shoes.

They ate sitting cross-legged on her bed while her laptop, balanced on top of the stack of books on her nightstand, played reruns of a TV sitcom.  Annabeth tried not to groan as she bit into her falafel pita, but it was tough.  She hadn’t realized just how hungry she was until now.

“Oh gods, this is so good.”  She poured more tzatziki sauce over her pita and took another bite.  “Magnus would be so jealous right now.”

Percy laughed, then frowned thoughtfully.  “Wait, can’t he order whatever he wants from that hotel?”

Annabeth shrugged and took another bite of falafel.  “According to him, there’s nothing like falafel from a real Earth restaurant.  Apparently there’s a specific one in Boston that’s the best.”

Percy’s frown deepened, a furrow appearing between his brows as he tapped his index finger against his own pita.  “I bet New York has a place that’s even better.”

“Getting a little competitive there, New Yorker?”  Annabeth nudged his socked foot with her own. 

Percy’s frown melted into a grin.  “New York City over Boston every time, baby.”  He nudged her foot back, then took another bite of his own food.  She returned his smile, even as she shook her head.

Suddenly, for no obvious reason, the easy intimacy of the moment hit Annabeth.  Just the two of them hanging out in her tiny college dorm room on a Saturday evening.  Nothing special, just cozy and comfortable.  A frisson of tension buried between her shoulder blades loosened as she took a deep breath in and allowed herself to relax.

Reaching out, she put a hand on Percy’s knee, giving it a light squeeze.  He met her eyes with another smile, then put a hand on the small of her back, leaned over, and kissed her cheek.

“How was your day?” he asked her.

“Ugh, so much studying.”  Annabeth crumpled up her falafel wrapper, tossed it into the brown paper takeout bag, then scooted closer to Percy, laying her head on his shoulder.  “How was yours?”

And with that, they settled into the familiar, contented ease of the evening.

*Thanks for reading!!*